IN THE DARKNESS OF DESPAIR__________
by Keithan

Legolas tuned out the conversations within the room and focused on the world outside the walls of stone he was now encaged in. The King and his council stood a few feet away, discussing the courses of action they would have to take with regards to the news that Aragorn, who now stood with the king, had brought of the marching of a destructive host to Helm’s Deep.

Being more in touch with nature as Elves were, he easily sensed the danger, in the smell of the air and the mere feel of the wind. He sensed that foul deeds awaited them

Arms crossed, he stood still in one corner by the window, wishing to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Some had even forgotten his presence, as he had been standing there silent and unmoving for quite sometime now. He wished not to partake in the discussion, especially one where decisions had to be made. He left those to the Men. He was an Elf, and he would not want others to think that he was interfering in their affairs. Aragorn had more right than he in those cases. He stood to support him, only speaking out if things really needed to be said, and no one said them.

With his farseeing eyes, he scanned the land outside. Indeed, the wind spoke of an ill foreboding. He felt danger from the very air itself. Even if Aragorn had not announced the coming of the host of Saruman, he would have felt it. He felt it now. If he focused his eyes on the distant horizon, leagues upon leagues away, he would be able to see the marching host of destruction approaching fast. And he did. He focused and stared hard at the black line that was slowly taking shape in his sharp vision. Still a few hours away, but too close for comfort.

'And they approach even now as I speak,' he said in Elvish softly.

Gimli who was leaning on the wall a few paces from where he stood looked at him inquisitively. When he didn't speak any more, the Dwarf dismissed the statement, though he did not ignore the gravity and solemnity in his tone. His short friend didn't pursue to ask him to translate what he just said for him; Gimli knew that he would do that if he wished to be understood.

But as the Dwarf saw it, Legolas merely was voicing his thoughts, which he partly was.

Aragorn turned to Legolas from where he stood behind the Gamling. Having exceptional hearing, more so than normal men, he had easily heard what the Elf had said from his distance.

'What is it that you see, Legolas?' Aragorn whispered in the Elven tongue, not wanting to be understood and to disturb any conversation of the king and knowing Legolas would hear him.

Not moving from his position, Legolas merely answered, 'The black wind approaches fast.'

'How much time?' Aragorn asked again.

'It is as you have said,' The Elf answered. Tilting his head to look at him, he continued, 'It would be upon us by nightfall.'

Gimli looked at them, trying to see if it was something that needed his attention, not at all feeling left out at not being able to understand their conversation. He was used to it by now. Aragorn and Legolas only speak as thus when needed or when it involved matters that lie between the two of them. If it concerned him, he would be informed of it by any of them later.

Aragorn looked at Legolas then, feeling something amiss with his friend but the Elf just met his gaze evenly. If it was his perceptiveness that bordered on instincts or his close attachment to his friend, he couldn't tell, but whatever it was he sensed might not yet be known to the Elf himself. Nothing, he could see, was wrong, so he left it at that for the moment.

He just nodded in response to the archer and Legolas then turned back to surveying the horizon.

The Elf raised his eyes to the sky, the sun was already leaning to the west, they had but few precious hours left to prepare. He really hadn't given much thought to the real situation at hand since he was hardly given time, other pressing matters arise. But now, as he stood there eyeing the marching host and partly listening to the discussion, he felt now that his own hope was dwindling away.

He glanced sideways, to study the room, or more rightly, the occupants that he so ignored thus far. His eyes went from one man to the other, one soldier to a maidservant. All faces portrayed the same thing, the same sentiments of their current condition.

He was met with faces full of despair, faces of ones devoid of all hope. With a sickening realization, he became aware that he was looking not at faces of soldiers getting ready for battle but at faces of corpses, undead men awaiting their doom, their judgment. The bitter taste of death hung thick in the air.

With a disconcerted frown, he looked away, unable to bear to witness their self-pity and hopelessness any longer. He was of the Firstborn. He was not supposed to experience such worry over death. 

And there it was.

Despair.

The first inklings of despair started to gnaw in his heart. It was the feeling of raw fear, not for himself, but for the people of Rohan, people incapable of defending their own fortress with so minimal number and expertise.

These were not soldiers ready to battle when the need calls for it and Legolas could painfully see that. Turning his gaze downwards, he saw the people scurrying around, doing what they could in so little time. The preparations had started. What made the sight more hopeless than it already was were the children. Barely out of age, being dressed in full armor, forced to bear arms in such a dire situation.

Women clutched their babes to their bosom, weeping as they were taken from their husbands and sons and those who could, helped in the preparations, some with tears in their eyes. The order had gone out, women and children must be brought to the caves.

Legolas was loathed to witness such real drama unfold before him. Not wanting for once, his sharp senses, so that he might not see the tears in their eyes, or hear their cries of despair and the clanging of metal or even smell the scent of rusted armor.

What could these people do in the face of thousands and thousands of Orcs and Uruk-hai warriors? Wave their swords and pray they might not be hit or killed? Or lose an arrow hoping it would hit its mark?

Do they even stand at least fifty percent of a chance?

Once again, he noticed the sun, with every minute it came closer to its hiding yonder in the west. And what then? When night falls, where then would it find them?

The black line was marching fast, and it bore no little number but tens of thousands and more fully armed, trained to kill and destroy Uruk-hai and Orcs. These foul creatures would be upon them by nightfall, and how would these people defend their lives when they could hardly defend their own homes and lands?

One by one, Legolas could see their infinite weaknesses, his mind slowly gearing towards despair than the hope that he had. And soon after, he could not see how Aragorn could have supported such a weak defense. They had fled, but they had fled into a trap.

This was a death trap. They had nowhere to go if this fortress fell.

...trapped

Legolas' hope had then waned, leaving only a little of the fire that it was before. Aragorn had been brave, telling Gimli and him to take courage and take courage they did, fully embracing the hope that his friend had seemingly given. All of that now was slowly getting lost on him. All that they had fought for, as they wielded their strong hope against the enemy, was pushed far back in his mind, as all he was starting to see now was the darkness of despair.

A few hours later, all that was needed to be done was prepare the people of Rohan that were to defend the fortress. Every villager able to wield a sword had been ordered to prepare, as women and children had all gone to the caves. Legolas had witnessed the pain-filled partings of families once again, this time more up close, more intimate.

Husbands and wives were separated right before his eyes. Mothers and sons were torn from their tight embrace as women were herded to the caves. So much weeping was heard, so much cries.

The emotion was too much.

... a little too much.

Gimli had to look away. Aragorn tried what he could do to help assure and console those who watched their sons and husbands leave them with no assurance of their return.

As for Legolas, he felt numb. He wanted to look away but he couldn't. He watched, feeling nothing inside, trying to understand what it was that was happening. As Boromir's death and Gandalf's supposed death had left him confused and uncomprehending, the scene before him placed him in such vulnerable position.

He was yet among the younger generation of the Firstborn, although warfare and fighting was not new to him as they had to defend their kingdom from the growing darkness in Dol Guldur, such grief and such sight was. He had not experienced a situation as helpless as this.

So helpless... so hopeless.

Legolas looked on. Sudden grief tore at his heart for the people so much different from his own race. His chest tightened, signaling the incoming of tears, but it was then that he remembered to keep his emotions checked and then composed himself.

What hope was there to hold on to?

Aragorn noticed him, seemingly unable to move and eyes transfixed on the parting of loved ones. To his eyes, the Elf seemed like a child trying to understand such complex matter but unable to. Worry for the Elf overtook him, thinking that all this must be taking a toll on his friend. Before he could approach him or think the matter over, they were then called to the armory, a request from the king to oversee the distribution of weapons and arms. When he looked back at Legolas, the Elf was looking at him and waiting for him to lead the way, obviously hearing the messenger's message. Whatever Aragorn saw was gone. Legolas had once more placed his mask of calm back on.

The man tucked the matter in his mind, promising to himself that it would be brought out as soon as a time presents itself. But for now, their self-appointed duty to the people of Rohan needed attention.

All three of them headed towards the armory. It was filled with people, all male, as each of them piled up to gather their gear for battle.

Metals clanged as swords, armors, spears and other battle gear were distributed. Staying in the middle of the armory, the Three Hunters looked around and observed the comings and goings of the people there, the urgency of their situation painfully obvious in their faces.

Each of them looked on with something akin to pity and hopelessness in their eyes as what they saw were not well built soldiers but mostly young ones or old folks.

Legolas looked around him. This was no better than the sight he left outside. As he had seen earlier, he was looking at faces of dead men walking, of corpses. And it brought a shiver to his spine. Despair was etched on their faces as if it was a very part of their features.

A loud metal clanged to his left, insignificant to the many other metal clinks in the armory but to his sharp ears, it was louder than the rest. He looked towards the sound and found a boy of about thirteen, or even twelve summers picking up his fallen armor.

The boy, sensing his gaze, looked up to him. And Legolas was taken aback by his stare. Although his hands were steady and his gait normal, the Elf could see the naked fear right there in the boy's eyes. Trying to be brave, he collected the armor and went on his way. The Elf blinked, trying to see if the boy had indeed been there or had just been his imagination.

His gaze then roamed once more, this time, desperate to see at least a ray of light in all that darkness but instead meeting the fearful eyes of those around him, looking at him as if it was their last day to be walking.

And that did it.

Legolas suddenly felt that he was the only being alive in the room, and even that, he was beginning to doubt. Each of the citizens of Rohan had either stopped hoping or had never hoped at all.

Hope in the Elf had then been extinguished. What hope was he to have if what he witnessed were these kinds of pictures? If what he saw were children fighting in place of men? If what greeted him were looks of one expecting death any time? How could Aragorn allow this? He should have counseled the King to flee, to go into hiding. They could never defend and expect to defeat such powerful enemies with their current state. They seriously lacked manpower and it would be the death of them all.

In his blind state, the Elf didn't see reason, didn't see that wherever they were to go and hide, it would be the same. Same fear, same ghosts that would haunt them. Legolas had lost any trust he had in whatever hopeless strategy they had formulated.

Aragorn had reminded them that there was always hope, that these people would find a way to survive. And in turn, they shared that same hope to the citizens of Rohan. All throughout this darkness, the man had lived up to his Elven name of Estel as he gave hope to the people and to the king who was slowly losing sight of it.

Legolas, together with Gimli, had followed him, trusted him with their hearts, and hoped with him.

But now the Elf had lost sight of that hope.

...lost sight of his trust.

Aragorn held up a sword to inspect, unknowing of his friend's troubles. The sword was nothing special and seemed to have seen many years already, only stacked up on this fortress in case of desperate needs such as this. Tossing the weapon aside to the pile of other weapons, he said, looking around, "Farmers, farriers, stable boys. These are no soldiers."

Gimli eyed an old man that passed him, having already gotten his gear. "Most have seen too many winters," He puffed around his beard, adding to Aragorn's obvious observation.

"Or too few." Legolas said sternly, meeting Aragorn's eyes. "Look at them." Looking around once more, as if to emphasize his point, he said, "They're frightened." And resting his hard gaze again on Aragorn alone, he continued, "I can see it in their eyes."

There seemed to be a lull in their surroundings, it was as if everyone slowed and quieted down to watch and listen to the discussion of the foreign warriors that had served as their leaders as well, silent though they were.

Legolas, even in anger, would not accuse his friend for something he could do nothing about.He knew Aragorn had merely supported the king of what he thought would be best. And now what he voiced out was but the result of one blind to any previous hope, letting despair reside in his heart and forgetting the precious hope that was now losing its former flame.

Turning his back on the man, he walked a few paces, still observing as he did so. 'Boe a hyn,' He said in Elvish, so as to conceal what it was that he was saying. The people were hopeless as they already were. He wanted not to add to their despair. Looking back at Aragorn he continued, 'Neled herain... dan caer menig!?'

The knowledge that Legolas had been enslaved by the clutches of despair was lost on Aragorn as the Elf had thrown a hard fact on him, three hundred had never been enough for ten thousand, and thus he faltered and paused before answering. 'Si beriathar hýn ammaeg nâ ned Edoras,' He argued, trying to placate Legolas as well as trying to assure himself that what he had done so far was not for naught. Helm's Deep was a fortress, Edoras was not. Their chance of defending themselves was a lot higher in the Deep than in the courts of Edoras, where homes and the Golden Hall, the Meduseld, stood.

By this time, many had already stopped to listen to the melodious Elvish that was spoken in what seemed to be getting to a heated argument. Gimli had been following the tone of the conversation, ready to stand in the middle if the need calls for it. It seemed that everything that was happening was already wearing off on his companions, especially on the Elf.

'Aragorn.' The Elf said as if wanting to wake the man in his illusion that they had any chance at all. 'Nedin dagor hen ú-'erir ortheri. They are all going to die!' Legolas exclaimed, once again slapping Aragorn with his words.

"Then I shall die as one of them!"

The armory was silenced. The answer was instantaneous, surprising everyone with its fervor, and striking Legolas hard.

...and it seemed then, that it was the only strike he needed.

It was as if he had woken from a dream and from his eyes the fog lifted and the first thing that he saw was the devotion Aragorn had to his people. It was that same devotion that held him fast, that gave him reason to hope, reason to trust.

And what he had lost sight of...

He once again found.

Vision gave way to reason. Reason gave way to understanding. And understanding gave way to repentance.

Legolas suddenly regretted his words as understanding came to him. In that moment, he saw everything that they had been fighting for, everything that they had trusted and everything that gave them reason to hope in Aragorn's eyes.

The commitment in which the man would give his life for the people had touched the darkened and burdened heart of Legolas deeply and gave it light. It was what he had forgotten as he let hopelessness take hold of him: the commitment each one of them had silently pledged since the breaking of the Fellowship and even long before that.

The flame of hope had once again been rekindled, flooding the darkness of despair with its bright light.

Gimli saw the apparent change in the Elf. A veil had been lifted from his features and the despair in his eyes had dimmed and had been crushed out. Whatever it was that his two companions had discussed about, it seemed to bring Legolas to a certain realization. He seemed to almost regret and seemed to be ashamed that they even had the conversation in the first place.

Aragorn, for his part, seemed to be repentant in answering his friend in such a manner. He thought his outburst was out of place and suddenly noticed that the silence was unbearable. Looking at Legolas, he dropped his gaze immediately, unable to look at the Elf, uncomfortable as he was after answering him as thus. Without saying another word, he left.

Legolas' face changed from understanding to worry and pain. He had offended Aragorn, probably even hurt him with his harsh words and that knowledge brought an ache to his heart.

The ranger had enough in his hands as it was. Legolas always supported him, always was Aragorn’s comfort with his silent presence together with Gimli, for him to turn his back on Aragorn now, he had left the man alone.

He had abandoned his friend in his time of need.

...had failed him in a time when he was needed most.

As soon as Aragorn left, Legolas meant to follow him, but Gimli held out his hand to stop him.

"Let him go lad," The dwarf said. "Let him be."

The Elf was then left to stare at the back of his retreating friend hopelessly, unable to do anything to mend what it was that stood amiss between them. He looked at Gimli then, his eyes betraying him of the pain of what he had done. And without a word to his Dwarf friend, he left the armory as well.

He could hear Gimli huff and grunt. "Well, those laddies," He said, shaking his head, to no one in particular, but many were still watching the last scenes of the incident that they had just witnessed. "Ain't know how to say goodbye any more," And noticing everyone's eyes on him, he waved his hand and said, "Well go on! Don't mind us now. We are but strangers here."

An hour and a quarter had passed since the argument and darkness now covered them. Legolas now stood at the door of the armory, knowing his two companions were preparing inside. He had spent the hour contemplating on what it was that he lost and found again: his hope and trust.

Upon entering, he saw Aragorn laying out all his gear on a table.  Legolas watched on, remorse could clearly be seen in his features. Now that he thought about it, he knew not how he had given up hope. He trusted the man with his life, how could he have been blind to the faith that he had in him? They had been led thus far, and it was foolish of him to fall to despair when their success, or non-failure, as of the moment, had been credited to the hope and trust they had shared with one another. For him to have lost hope now was folly indeed.

He watched as Aragorn had started to arm himself up. Dressing himself in his armor and gear as though it was a ritual, a ceremony he undertook before going head on to battle. His moves were perfect and calculated as if it were a routine he had done a thousand times before. Strapping his Elven blade to his belt, he reached out last for his sword, but was surprised to find it missing from the place he had left it.

Legolas offered Aragorn’s sword to him. Aragorn turned, surprised in seeing him holding the weapon out to him.

Looking at Aragorn then, Legolas knew no words were necessary, but he needed to say them anyway. "We have trusted you this far, you have not led us astray," He said, his eyes telling the man of his guilt and regret and even a hint of shame in ever doubting. "Forgive me. I was wrong to despair."

Aragorn felt that a heavy burden had been removed from his heart. He was afraid that Legolas would fall to despair even more after their argument. He, himself, nearly did. To have one of your most trusted friends lose the hope that hung precariously on a thin thread, brought fear into his heart. Yet he held fast, and was determined to let Legolas see the same light that he was seeing. But it seemed that he needed not say anything more to bring the Elf back to the light of hope. He had been worried for his friend, and although his words had struck deep, the man knew that Legolas had merely lost sight of hope for a time. There was nothing for him to forgive and he shook his head to say so before actually voicing it out. He was just glad Legolas' trust was back. He was willing to forget everything. Bringing his fist to his heart in a sign of friendship and peace, before laying his hand on his friend's shoulder, Legolas mirroring his own movements, he said, 'Ú-moe edhored, Legolas.' There is nothing to forgive.

At that moment, their hope had shined the brightest. In the face of friends, despair had no place to stay. The battle that was fought thereafter was fierce and hard, with despair threatening to cover them all in its darkness. But in that room, hope and trust blossomed once more, their fire kindled and its flame grew even brighter.

Legolas had found peace. They would fight, and he would fight alongside his friends. That, in itself, was his hope.

Yes, death was inevitable, as he had come to realize, and sacrifices had to be made. One hard fact that came to him also was that they couldn't save everyone. Fate had its own way. Its intricate web wasn't meant to be understood. He mourned inside, weeping for all the lives that would be taken this night at the battle to come, young and old alike, even if it was his own. But they were there to make sure that all the lost lives would not go to waste, and that a new dawn would rise after this night, and with it a new hope for life.

They would live out this night, they must.

Their hope couldn't be taken from them by their enemies. It was one thing that they could hold on to when everything else could be taken away. As long as they stay true to one another, bound together by their trust, friendship and love, hope would not fail.

Also, their true hope lies elsewhere, yonder in the east where two Halflings, whose journey, they hoped, was continuing still, venture into the unknown.

As for them, they had a battle to fight.

They had a battle to win.

11.06.03
edited: 25 May 04
beta'd by: Dara

*Italicized dialogue came from TTT movie

Elvish Translations: (thanks to Seat of the Kings and their TTT script)
*Boe a hyn, neled herain... dan caer menig!? - And they should be... 300 against 10,000!?
*Si beriathar hýn ammaeg nâ ned Edoras - They have a better chance defending themselves here than in Edoras.
*Aragorn, nedin dagor hen ú-'erir ortheri. Natha daged dhaer! - Aragorn, they cannot win this fight. They are all going to die!
*Ú-moe edhored, Legolas. - There is nothing to forgive, Legolas.