The Shadow Walker

103. Us

The morning dawned bleak and humid, in no small part because of how tight Legolas had held me all night. Before the muted sun had even risen, a single, clear note from a horn had awoken the entire massive army. Now, Legolas and I strapped on what we needed for battle, not speaking. All around, thousands of people did the same, only murmuring when absolutely necessary.

Long before the morning sun could completely dissipate the inky colors of night, the army began dividing itself, people finding their captain and waiting for the order to march. With a sword at one hip and my dagger at the other, all that was left to do was go find Èowyn. Afraid to face this farewell, I turned to Legolas. "I guess this is goodbye," I murmured, already fighting tears.

A heavy moment passed. He wanted to reassure me, I could feel it in my bones, but what was there to really say? 'See you later, maybe'?

Finally, Legolas closed the space between us and wrapped me in a hug. "Whatever befalls us today, do not doubt my never-ending love for you," he whispered, voice cracking. "Even if we're both to die today...these last few days have been the best of my life." Placing his long, smooth fingers on my cheek, he kissed me, tasting of saltwater.

I kissed him back, doing nothing to stop myself from crying.

Legolas ended the kiss and stepped back, tears shining in his eyes. "Go to Èowyn," he said. "Our fate is in Eru's hands."

The longer I stayed, the harder it would be to leave, so naturally I launched forward for one more hug. "I love you too...please don't die..."

"I'll do my best to stay alive," he whispered into my hair. "Now go, Eda...we have to march."

Nodding miserably, I let him go, turned, and trudged away. Saying goodbye hurt so badly—if this day ended without Legolas at my side, I wasn't sure I could cope.

* * *

I marched with Èowyn, Kèolyn, and seventy-one other women that, for some reason or another, had picked up the sword in favor of attacking Mordor rather than hiding from it.

We each led a horse of Rohan, saddled and bearing supplies—arrows, full canteens, bandages, needles and thread, and the like. Though Èowyn wasn't thrilled about it, she concurred with Thranduil—if the battle got too heated, we would leave.

Personally, I'd rather die killing orcs than running from them.

The army being the size that it was, it took us hours to reach the Black Gate, especially since we had horses pulling the creaky catapults instead of trolls. By the time we reached the wall separating Mordor from Gondor, the sun was fully up and well on its way to cooking the lot of us.

Dwalin's gruff voice rose above the din of clanking armor and people muttering to each other. The Angle began forming in front of the wide gate. Horses grunted as they struggled to pull the catapults up the nearest hill, behind us and off to the side a bit. At the front of the slow procession, Legolas walked with a couple dozen elven archers. His blue eyes pierced the space between us, and he gave me a brief, tight smile.

Ahead of us, the mass army formed ranks, and half of the horsemen clustered together beside us, and on the opposite side of the army, the second half of horsemen did the same, except for a single rider with dark hair. Aragorn.

He cantered out before us, sword drawn and raised. "Today is a day many have foreseen and feared," he called, eyes glinting. "A day of destruction, of ruin...of death." He reined his horse to a stop, taking the stage and demanding our attention. "Blood will be shed today. But not all of it will be ours."