Be My Voice in This Present Darkness (Legolas x OC)

~Chapter XXXV~

Vana ran and she ran, putting as much distance between her and that dragon as possible. She tried to ignore the fire that sprouted up, as Sauron's temper got the better of him, and focused on her destination. Her feet hit the ground, tapping out a marching beat.

She ignored the prickle at her neck, the pains in her thighs and calves, and threw herself even harder into her career through the vast plains that separated her from Gondor and its civilians.

Just a little longer and she'd be there. Vana didn't let herself think about those she knew who would probably be there. The only thing she could focus on would be the people who couldn't be let die.

If the Gondorians were massacred, then Achasiel and her baby would have gone in vain. Just thinking about the gruesome death of her friend made Vana cry. And she let the tears fall. Achasiel deserved proper mourning.

And on she ran.

Soon, the city of Gondor rose in her sights, a white jewel built around a mountain. Minas Tirith.

Was Legolas there? She hoped not. He mostly likely would be there, though, with Aragorn, and Gandalf, and they'd all know what she'd done. Would that vision she had in the oubliette come true? It was an awful thought. A really, really awful thought. Shaking that idea off, she tried to escape herself from the effect of Sauron's mind tricks. It was hard, trying to rid of her own—although enhanced—worst fears.

Because they were her own, however distorted.

And maybe, just maybe, those distorted fears were taking the places of the original fears.

And so she ran. Vana ran on all of her anger and hurt, taking her pain out on her body. Any pain there was physical and therefore could be cured. But the wounds in her fëa weren't that way.

They stayed. How long would they stay?

And they bled. How long could someone bleed and not die? Because elves could bleed inside.

Then they faded.

As she drew nearer, she suddenly became aware of marching to her far left. Panic was her first response. Had Sauron sent orcs after her? Even worse, had he come after her? She didn't think he would, not without his precious ring. But it was still a threat, and a very dangerous one.

How easily he had finished off Achasiel... who was much more powerful than herself. She tried not to think of that moment when her friend departed for the halls of Mandos. At least she was at peace.

She ran faster, seeing the city clearly in her line of vision. But behind her she could hear those orcs. And they weren't close. There were just a lot of them. They were going slowly, but there was a huge mass of them, as could clearly be seen from the black lines filling the horizon. They wouldn't be visible from Gondor... yet.

As she came within the mortal watchers' sights, she saw weapons being trained onto her.

Stop! she tried to call. I am a friend of Minas Tirith and I bring news.

But nothing came out, and again she felt that feeling of helplessness she had so often had when she grew up. She couldn't stop people dying or fading. She could make herself speak. She couldn't even keep her family together.

She held up her hands, trying to express that she wasn't any danger. A call came once she was in range.

"Who are you?"

Vana motioned at her mouth, endeavouring to show them that she couldn't speak.

"Can't you speak?" The guard's voice was rough and gravelly; just what you'd expect from a tired guard on the late night and early morning watch.