Vicious || Legolas

Nine

The orcs had marched out. Namir had watch them go through his window. Their footsteps and the clanging of steel echoing through the valley as they disappeared over the hills. A black shadow advancing to cause death. Only about a hundred remained to guard the tower. They milled around below like black spiders dotting the desolate grey landscape. The forest boarders had been pushed back into a green line in the distance. Looking at it made him ache with the taste of freedom. Out of reach yet growing closer, he could feel it. This helplessness and captivity would be over. He just had to hope and be patient. Cats can be patient. All he had to do was wait.

The tower was cold. Namir turned away from the window as the light began to fade with sunset. His skin changing as he reached the cot that served as his bed. The thick fur of the black cat-like beast was far warmer than his human skin. As the sun slipped down over the edges of the mountains he rested his head on his paws. He missed the warmth of his home. The fresh scent of straw and the hum of bees. The touch of warm sunlight and the breeze of summer wind. He missed fingers in his fur and lips on human skin. He craved so deeply for reassuring touch that did not carry the threat of pain that it hurt like a wound. As the night darkened the sky, he curled up on the sheets and let himself dream of home. 

---------------------

The moonlight was bright and silvery as thunder crackled over head and rain sleeted down. Legolas stood silent on the battlements of Helms deep surrounded by the quaking soldiers of man. They were young, children facing down the thousands orcs that swarmed over the land below them. He almost pitied them if there was no other choice. Black shaped beings swarming below, illuminated by the flashes of lighting. The moonlight doing nothing to smooth over their hideous features nor quell the deadly hunger for blood on their faces. Thunder boomed and he tightened his grip on his bow as he glanced to where Aragorn stood behind him. 

"Your friends are with you, Aragorn", he reassured. Aragorn's gaze was set on the approaching army below.

"Lets hope they last the night", Gimli grumbled, in the enthusiastic way of all dwarves. Down below, the sounds of marching footsteps echoed up to them. Legolas exchanged a look of amusement with the man behind him and Aragorn patted him on the shoulder. Then he was off, striding away between the ranks of soldiers and down the battlements.

 Rain sleeted down on them, soaking through cloaks and dripping off armour. It was cold and it chilled them to the bones. Legolas kept his gaze fixed on the fires below. The army bearing down on them. Aragorn's voice echoed across the keep. Elvish falling from his lips as he made his way through the elves sent from Rivendell. "Show them no mercy, for you shall receive none". 

Below, a orc roared, the noise bouncing off the mountain walls as the army of Saruman drew to a stop. For a second there was no sound but the pattering of rain and the growls of the orcs below. Breath coming out in clouds of steam as they waited for the first move.

Legolas smiled slightly as Gimli grumbled next to him. The dwarf unhappy that he couldn't see over the wall. "What's happening out there?" He gave a little jump as if it would help. 

"Shall I describe it to you?" The blonde asked, smirk tugging his lips. "Or would you like me to find you a box?" 

Gimli looked up and him and let out an amused chuckle. There was a reply on the edge of his lips but the noises below stopped him. The heavy thump of clanging steel as thousands of swords hit shields in a battle drum beat. Legolas could hear the whimpers from the scared men around him and feel the tension in the air. It hung heavily over them like the storm overhead. He inhaled deeply, focusing on his goal. If they won this battle then Isengard would be undefended. Namir would be waiting. The drum of shields and the stomping of feet grew in pitch. A sudden whizz of an arrow broke the night. 

"Hold!" Aragorn shouted. Below, a orc collapsed into the mud. A second of stunned silence then the roars echoed. The head orc raised his sword and they were charging across the ground. "Prepare to fire!" The cry went out. Legolas lifted his bow and pulled and arrow from his quiver. It was steady in his hands as he notched it and pulled back the string. Eyes sharp and set down at his target. The rain dripping down his face like caresses. He thought of what would be waiting for him when this was all over and corrected his aim. So the battle begins. 

---------------

Namir woke as the grey light of sunlight rose the next morning. He had been dreaming a beautiful dream. The soft night in his bedroom. The sheets of the bed warm and the sound of the animals outside. A sleeping body next to him. Legolas' blonde hair spilling over the pillows and breath soft with sleep. He dreamt that he, instead of rising to walk that night, laid back down and shifted closer to the elf. The warm sheets were so real that he could smell their mingled scents in the fabric. He gazed softly as the moonlight spilled in silver traces over Legolas's face. But as he reached out to brush a lock of hair from the sleeping face of his mate, the warmth faded. 

He woke to a cold room and the linger foulness of orcs. The bed under him was hard, not warm and soft. The sheets were scratchy and filthy with dirt. The light was dim and grey through clouds and he was alone. He was cold, in pain and so bitterly alone. 

unedited