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

Chapter IX

We sat in silence for what must've been only half an hour but felt like several days. The rocks were hard and barren, but the sun warmed them and for the four days we'd spent in the deep, dark mines, sun and warmth and dryness was incredibly welcoming.

It would've been much nicer if Merry and Pippin and Sam weren't sobbing, if Aragorn and Mira weren't whispering quietly with forlorn looks on their faces, if Boromir wasn't sitting on a rock with his head in his hands, if Legolas wasn't staring blankly into the distance, if grief wasn't hanging over our heads like the shadow of a knife.

I, myself, remained standing, for I felt as though if I sat, I would not ever get up, not even for a bath or food or water, I was that exhausted. I knew, however, that I'd faced worse, and that there was still a very long journey ahead of us and that I must stay vigilant.

Finally, I heard Aragorn say, "Legolas, get them up." I glanced around the area. It was bright and warm, but it must be afternoon, which meant that sunset would soon be upon us, and that meant danger.

Boromir, however was seeming more empathetic, and said, "Give them a moment, for pity's sake!"

We've had nearly half an hour, I thought to myself, but wished to avoid an argument, so I held my tongue.

"By nightfall, these hills will be swarming with orcs," Aragorn pointed out, and helped Mira to her feet. "We must reach the woods of Lothlórien. Come, get them up."

As Aragorn supported Sam as he finally stood and Boromir and Legolas handled Pippin and Merry, I glanced around for Frodo.

He was nowhere to be seen.

"Frodo?" Aragorn had also noticed the hobbit was missing. "Frodo!"

I turned towards the edge, where Frodo stood, the Ring between his fingers, grief written all over his face.

I wished harder than ever in that moment that I could tell him it was okay, that Gandalf was alive. I couldn't.

I could, however, pass on the message, and so I walked towards him, understanding his loss, because at a young age, my parents had been killed by an orc ambush in the mountains, so similar to Gandalf's surmised death. I had no memory of them, but had always assumed that they'd been close with Elrond, for after they died, I was passed into his care and grew up with his three children.

Frodo must've seen the understanding look on my face, for he softened a little when he saw me and I knelt next to him before saying quietly, "Frodo Baggins, you are a remarkable Hobbit. You have lived through so much and you have so much more to live for. Do not despair." I stepped back a little, and he followed me. "Sav'estel," I murmured.

When we reached the bottom of the hill, I was joined by Guldurelon, to my delight. He was uninjured but seemed rather tired, but his ears were forward and his neck arched when he greeted me with his soft breath on my hand. I blew air back at him, murmuring strings of Sindarin as the rest of the Fellowship came down the hill behind me.

"I told you he would come," I said slightly smugly to Legolas. He said nothing, merely coming up next to me before greeting Guldurelon with a firm pat behind the horse's cheek and glanced at the Fellowship behind us. I followed his gaze.

They were still rattled by Gandalf's supposed death, and even now that the numbness of surprise had gone, I couldn't hide my worry for the old wizard any longer. Though I knew he'd survived, the deeper they fell into the mine, the further away they would be from any sort of help.

I knew I couldn't express too much brightness, for the other members of the Fellowship had not seen what I had seen. They didn't even know that Gandalf had survived the fall.