THE RED RIDER ; lord of the rings {legolas} ✔

Chapter XIV

Chapter XIV
Eowyn

Upon hearing the light clip clop of the Rohirrim's horses, I ran eagerly from our stores of food and blankets to the main road, where my uncle was leading the line of remaining fighters. I frowned.

"So few," I said concernedly. "So few of you have returned."

"Our people are safe," my uncle stated heavily. "We have paid for it with many lives."

He walked by, leading the line past me. I scanned each face nervously, watching for Elenathrian and Aragorn, who both passed me unseeingly. I stared after Aragorn and saw that he was clutching Mireclya's pendant as he rode. The rest of the line came and went, but I didn't see Mireclya, and I felt a very strong, sudden pang of guilt - right before the battle, we'd been arguing.

I'd asked her why she'd given her necklace to Aragorn, mostly out of curiousity, but she was being guarded about her response and not telling me much, leading me to believe she may be hiding something about her and Aragorn. We'd argued right up to the warning call of "We're under attack!", when she'd spun her horse around and galloped towards the wargs, glaring at me before jumping into battle. I sighed, and turned back to the stores. At least the rest of my friends were safe.
-
Elenathrian

I would not believe it. Mireclya was not dead, I could tell. But there were currently more pressing matters. Theoden was preparing for battle, and his soldiers were the essence of Rohan : farmers, stable hands - they were not prepared for the battle, and never could be.

I entered the armory, where young ferriers or old farmers alike were being distributed weapons and armor. Legolas and Aragorn seemed to be in the middle of an argument, and I quickly ran up to see what the fuss was about.

The soldiers around them fell silent, and as I approached, Legolas' frustrated voice rose up from the center of a circle. "Boe a hûn: neled herain dan caer menig?" (And they should be... Three hundred against ten thousand?)

I frowned, and entered the circle beside Gimli.

"What's going on?" I asked him quietly.

"I wouldn't know, lass, I don't speak the ruddy language," Gimli pointed out.

"But before they started speaking elvish," I said.

"Si beriathar hýn. Amar nâ ned Edoras." (They have more hope of defending themselves here than at Edoras.) Aragorn sounded defensive, and I could understand why. He felt responsible for Mira's fall, and could not bear to see others die on his part.

"The elf thinks these so-called soldiers are right to be afraid of the war because they're not made for it," Gimli responded gruffly.

"Hmm," I said, frowning. It was unlike Legolas to despair, and even more uncharacteristic of him to argue with his friend.

"Aragorn, men i ndagor. Hýn ú-... ortheri. Natha daged aen!" Legolas snapped. (Aragorn, we are warriors. They cannot win this fight. They are all going to die!)

"Then I shall die as one of them!" Aragorn responded just as quickly. He turned and stormed out.

I saw the shadow of realization pass of Legolas' face as he made to go after his friend, but Gimli stopped him. "Let him go, lad," he said quietly. "Let him be."

Mira's presumed death was affecting us all. I had to go find her.

Putting one hand of Legolas' shoulder and the other on Gimli's, I said, "I'm going to try and recover Mireclya's body. I'll be back by morning." I couldn't tell them that I thought she was alive; that would leave them distracted during the battle.