Second Chances

Part 13

Posted: March 2004
Author: Larien Elengasse

*****

Thranduil drove his sword deep into the chest of a warg as its dark rider clutched at his robes. Arrows rang out and the orc howled as it fell from the body of the dying beast. He withdrew his sword in time to fight off another foe, and he dropped to his knees as the orc fell dead. Exhaustion nearly took him, but he heard a sound that struck fear in the hearts of all in Mirkwood. A shadow fell over him as he turned his indigo eyes up to see the spindly legs of an enormous spider planted on either side of him.

He turned, instinctively thrusting his sword upward into the beast's belly, striking a fatal blow, but not before he felt its sharp stinger penetrate his abdomen. His howl of pain was choked off as the paralyzing agent began to flood his body, and he crumpled beneath the shuddering bulk of the great spider. He heard the whizzing of arrows as if from a distance, as the great beast lurched sideways and fell dead upon the ground.

* * * *

Erellont stood beside the healer at his master's bedside, looking down on his wounded King. His arms were crossed over his chest, his hands buried in his robes, fingers slowly twisting the travel worn fabric. "Any word from the Prince?" he asked in hushed tones.

"No, my Lord," the healer answered quietly. "We have no word of where he may be, none has come since his departure from Imladris."

Thranduil mumbled quietly and the healer stepped forward, touching his forehead with the back of his hand. "He stirs," the healer whispered, "and his fever is broken. This is a good sign."

"How much can one elf bear?" Erellont whispered. "This is the second near-fatal injury he has suffered in a year's time." He frowned as he looked down upon his King. "Where are the other captains? I must know how the spiders were allowed to get to him."

The healer replied, "Agladir was himself wounded, but he can be found in his quarters. Lenwë fell in battle. Many were wounded, my Lord. They were set upon by orcs with wargs, the battle was fierce. It is clear now that the intent was to destroy our kin and ransack the caves."

Erellont nodded. "Aye, the Dark Lord grows desperate. Lórien was attacked while I was there as well. He is indeed bold to launch an attack upon the Lord and Lady of the Wood. Both armies were sent forth from Dol Guldur." He sighed and shook his head. "Our King is stubborn, he should not be fighting on the front lines. If he were lost, there is no one to lead with the Prince gone." He patted the healer on the back. "Continue your good work, mellon. We will need him whole again as soon as you can manage it."

The healer nodded as Erellont left the King's quarters in search of Agladir.

* * * *

Legolas sat astride Arod, he could feel the horse's nervousness building, like a bowstring stretched too far. His ambling gait had grown choppy, then turned springy as he ceased walking and began to jig. He whispered quietly to him, stroking his neck and trying to reassure him. Roheryn also whinnied nervously and tossed his head, the large stallion could sense the danger ahead.

The closer to the Morannon they drew, the more unsettling the visions became that Legolas had. He could sense the presence of the Úlairi tracking their northward march, and the whispered murmurs of the Dark Lord haunted his resting moments. He had a dream some two nights previously, in it he saw his father fall in battle beneath the thick canopy of Mirkwood, and try as he might to ignore it, the vision continued to haunt him.

**Dead…** the black voice whispered, **He is dead and his fëa will never find rest as it belongs to me now, as will yours…**

Something strange was happening inside him, his constant companion was growing stronger, trying to shield him from the evil words the Dark Lord would have him believe.

**He is a liar, Greenleaf,** Fëanor whispered to him, **A deceiver, Thranduil is not dead, we would feel it if he were. Do not listen to his lies. He lies because he is afraid, and he should be.**

Legolas nodded to himself as they pressed onward. He had faith in Mithrandir and Aragorn, as well as his companions, and he had faith in himself.

* * * *

Thranduil sat up in his bed as the healer handed him a bowl of soup that contained healing herbs. He grimaced as he sipped from the bowl and grumbled to his healer, "Can you not make the concoction more pleasing to taste? This is most foul."

The healer chuckled and gathered his things. "I will see what I can do, my Lord," he replied. The healer met Erellont at the door.

"How is his majesty, this day?" Erellont asked quietly.

"Well on his way to full recovery," the healer answered. "His temperament is exactly what I would hope for considering his condition."

Erellont smiled wryly and nodded. "Excellent. May I speak with him? I have urgent matters to discuss."

The healer nodded and bid him enter. "He is well enough to meet with you now."

Erellont closed the door behind him as the healer made his way down the hall. He approached the King's bed and knelt upon one knee as he greeted him. "Mae Govannen, my Lord," he said quietly.

Thranduil smiled as he set the empty bowl down next to the bed. "Mae Govannen, Erellont. You missed quite a battle, meldir."

Erellont rose to his feet and motioned to a chair. "May I?"

Thranduil nodded. "Please, be comfortable."

Erellont pulled the chair next to the bed and sat back in it, crossing his legs as he rested his hands upon the arms. "I hear you fought bravely, your majesty. Bringing down a large female ungol is no small feat. Particularly after slaying a male warg."

Thranduil grimaced as he shifted upon the bed. "I do not remember much, but I do not believe it was I who brought down the Ungol… rather your regiment of archers."

"I am thankful they were able to assist you. If they had not, we would not be speaking now," the Captain replied.

"Aye," Thranduil answered, "true enough. But surely you have not come here to lecture me again about the dangers of my engaging in combat."

Erellont raised an eyebrow and answered, "Not entirely. Lórien was under attack before I left the wood. Thankfully Lord Celeborn and his regiment were able to turn back the army that came from Dol Guldur."

Thranduil nodded. "I hope their losses were not too great."

"No, my Lord," Erellont answered. "The Galadhrim are very adept at stealth attack; many orcs fell before they had to reveal their positions. However, the Lord and Lady of the Wood have ascertained the strength of the Dark Lord's army from the south, and they maintain we must go on the offensive."

Thranduil nodded and looked at his captain. "When do they propose we attack the fortress?"

Erellont answered, "On the night of the next full moon."

Thranduil looked at his captain. "If the Lords of the West are not able to defeat the Dark Lord, you realize we will all die? There is no breaking of Dol Guldur while the beast lives. We do not have the White Council this time to aid us, and our own forces are dwindling. My warriors fall faster than I can replace them, Erellont."

The Captain nodded and leaned forward. "Better to die in battle than to wait for death upon our doorstep."

Thranduil closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, his Captain saw in them a fire he had not seen in nearly an age. "Gather our people and send those who wish to sail west with an armed escort. This may be their last chance. If our attack on Dol Guldur fails, if the One Ring is not finally destroyed, Sauron's hoard will roll over us and leave nothing. We cannot withstand another direct assault, Erellont; our defenses will fail, and my realm will fall into ruin."

"Understood, my Liege. I will do as you ask." The Captain stood and bowed his head, covering his heart with his hand.

* * * *

Legolas stood beside Gimli and Mithrandir as the wizard rejected Sauron's terms. All fear had left him and he was as one who saw the inevitability of his own death and accepted it; he only prayed that it would come honorably. As he looked into the eyes of those he would fight beside, he saw the same; he saw the grim determination of men who had been given no choice. In this, Sauron had made a fatal mistake; the Dark Lord may yet be victorious, but he would not break the spirit of these brave men.

The shrieking cry of the Úlairi split the air and the men beside him fought to hold to their resolve. The great gates opened and the roar and stench of death was upon them. It was in that moment that he thought of his father, of how Thranduil had faced the same foe, and lived to tell of it. "Give me strength, Adar," he whispered.

* * * *

Screams and clashing armor rang in his ears, and he had long abandoned his bow for his knives as he waded knee deep in orcs and trolls. Fëanor's fierceness and experience kept him alive as he slashed and stabbed faster than the eye could follow. He heard the growls and grunts of his friend Gimli as his brave friend cut down one orc after another with his axe, and he heard the cries of the Rohirrim and of his friend Aragorn as they fought to give Frodo time.

He heard Aragorn cry out in anger and pain and he wheeled around to see his friend holding his arm against his side. He struggled to get to him through the heaving mass of combat. An ear splitting shriek broke the heavy air as the Úlairi descended from the sky, and the ground shook as Orodruin exploded. The Dark Tower was quaking, its Lord's ghastly voice crying out.

"He has done it!" Legolas cried as he saw Barad-dûr begin to crumble. Already the orcs were beginning to retreat, pursued by the Rohirrim and mounted Knights of Dol Amroth. He saw Aragorn struggling toward him when his breath left him in a startled gasp and he fell to his knees. The bloodied blade of a Úlairi was protruding from his shoulder.

"Legolas!"

He distantly heard Aragorn's voice as he felt his blood turning cold. He looked up at his friend, hearing the strangled cry as the Úlairi fled and the Eagles pursued it. He pitched forward into Aragorn's arms and heard his friend call out to Mithrandir as all faded into darkness.

* * * *

The Elves of Mirkwood camped under a thick canopy of trees as they advanced upon Dol Guldur.

Thranduil sat up, gasping for air as he clutched his chest. "Legolas!" he gasped. "No! No! Not my son, please, not my son!"

Erellont ran to his Lord's side and clasped his shoulders. "What is it, my Lord?"

Thranduil turned his wide eyes to his Captain and answered, "Legolas has fallen."

* * * *

Glorfindel sat bolt upright in bed, flinging his pillow at an imaginary foe. He clutched his head and shook it fiercely, trying to dispel the nightmare that had woken him. "Legolas," he whispered, "melethen."

As he sat trembling in his bed, his heart racing and hands shaking, he had a horrible feeling that what he experienced was not a nightmare. He rose from his bed and snatched up his robes, heading for Elrond's chamber.

Mellon = friend
Meldir = friend
Melethen = my love

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