Title: If I Should Die Before I Wake…

Author: Jeniveela

Category: Angst/Drama

Summary: Legolas is severely wounded in the battle at Helm's Deep and lays dying because of a poisoned Orc arrow.

Rating: PG-13 For battle sequences, blood, and angst…lots and lots of angst…

A/N: Yes, this is one of my rare, serious LOTR fics, and I am still working on getting the characters perfectly in character. It may be the only serious LOTR fic I ever write. Yes, it is a movie-verse fic, but it does incorporate some characters not mentioned in the movies, like Legolas's father, King Thranduil. This is NOT SLASH because personally, I dislike slash intensely (no offense to my slash fan fic writer readers). Yes, there is quite a bit of blood in this fic…especially a certain Elf's blood…

Anyway, please, please, please read and review…

~*~*~*~*

"DAGO HAN!"

Legolas swiftly reached back and drew another arrow from his quiver, setting it to bowstring, drawing the string taut, sighting down the long, narrow shaft for his target, the Uruk-hai on a suicide mission as it ran for the drain of Helm's Deep, a crackling, sizzling torch of white, blazing light in hand.

The Elven arrow hissed through the air like a hoard of angry wasps as it was released from the bowstring, flying straight for its intended target, the Uruk's thick, exposed neck.

A grim, solemn look of satisfaction came upon the Elven archer's fair face as his keen eyes saw the arrow hit its target through the dark, lashing rain. His satisfaction lasted for only a fleeting moment however, as he saw the evil beast lurch and stumble, but keep on staggering for the drain of Helm's Deep.

"DAGO HAN, LEGOLAS! DAGO HAN!"

Aragorn's fierce, desperate shout resounded over the thunderous, chaotic, horrifying sounds of battle, the sounds of bloodthirsty battle cries ringing out amongst the bloodcurdling, agonized screams of the wounded as the Elven archer reached back to pull another arrow from his quiver, notch it to the bow, draw it, and release it with one swift, smooth, deft movement.

He saw the arrow hiss as it sped through the air, again finding its target in the Uruk-hai's exposed, thick, fleshy neck, and again he watched in utter despair and horror, numb with shock, as the beast stumbled and continued to stagger on, the deadly, blazing beacon of light still held above its ugly head as it lumbered doggedly on.

Finally, when it was right at the foot of Helm's gate, the hideous beast stumbled for the last time and fell heavily, bringing the blazing, malevolently hissing torch down with it right into the mouth of the drain-

Then the world exploded around him…

~*~*~*~*

           

BOOM!

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, watched in utter horror as Helm's Gate suddenly ceased to be in a great explosion loud enough to drown out the roaring argument of the rumbling thunder overhead and the deafening discord of sound of the fierce battle raging on around him. The explosion sent Men, Elves, solid stone, and other debris flying left and right into the air, leaving a hideous, gaping gash in the hard, solemn face of the great stone fortress that was Helm's Deep, a gash that was immediately filled by Orcs and Uruk-hai flooding into Helm's Deep with their evil weapons and battering rams, weapons that were made in the flame of Isengard and rams that were carved of the wood of Fangorn Forest.

He heard a hoarse, startled exclamation from his Dwarven companion Gimli, son of Glòin, after he had cut down an oncoming Orc with his stout axe and had whirled around just in time to see Helm's Gate fall.

"What happened?" Gimli roared over the cacophony of battle as Aragorn instinctively started charging for the fallen Gate to stop the Saruman's evil army from storming the fortress, Andùril drawn and gleaming in the devious, inconsistent light of battle.

"Come, Gimli!" Aragorn called urgently over his shoulder in short response as he ran for the fallen Gate.

The stout, burly Dwarf grunted as he grasped his axe in both hands at the ready to cut down any Orc or Uruk-hai that got in his way as he plodded after his human companion as quickly as he could go, both brawny arms swinging at his sides as he tried in vain to keep up with Aragorn.

"Just keep breathing," Gimli muttered to himself through clenched teeth as he trudged stubbornly after Aragorn, trying to avoid tripping over any unceremoniously piled up Orc carcasses scattered haphazardly across the desolate battle field where the war still raged on around them. "Breathing…" –pant, pant- "Yes, that's the key…Just breathe…"

~*~*~*~*

I've failed them…

That was the first thought that flashed through the Elf's mind as he regained consciousness, the dusk and gloom clearing from his sharp sight both mentally and physically as he came to. Some of the heavy, dark clouds of dust were being blown away by the shrilly whistling wind that whipped the dark, lashing rain almost sideways. The shroud of darkness also cleared before his eyes mentally as he awoke from his momentary unconsciousness to see a sight that was none too welcoming.

As white lightning struck somewhere nearby, crackling and rumbling like a demon laughing malevolently at Legolas's great misfortune, it briefly illuminated the towering, malicious figure standing before him in a blinding flash.

It was an Orc, baring its ugly, crooked, yellowed fangs in a terrifying, crooked, demented, cruel grin as it sneered down at the Elven archer before raising its crudely made blade with a jagged edge-

Acting with quick battle reflexes, Legolas threw himself sideways, rolling just out of the way of the Orc's wicked blade as it came whirling down, burying its jagged edge deep into the muddy ground. With cat-like grace and agility, the Elf jumped up onto his feet, drawing one of his daggers from its sheathe on his back during the few precious seconds while the ugly beast of Saruman snarled viciously, cursing in the crude Orc language, as it pulled its blade from the mud. When the creature had turned its foul head back to face Legolas, it did not even have the time to raise its blade for a second go at the Elf before it found an Elven dagger buried in its exposed throat.

As the vile creature collapsed, Legolas leaned over and grimly jerked his blade back out of its slashed neck. After he drew the dagger, stained black with filthy, stinking Orc blood, he turned around just in time to see another Orc charge him, lunging at him and snarling, blade drawn and ready to strike.

Legolas threw his dagger, sending the blade whirling end over end, before it came to rest squarely in the Orc's throat, abruptly stopping it in its tracks and sending the beast crashing to its knees before collapsing to the ground. Again, the Elven archer leaned down to pluck his dagger from the monster's neck solemnly and sheathed it, switching to his bow. Lots of knife work to be done here, and all because of his fault…

You failed them…The depressing thought echoed in his mind, taunting him from the furthest depths of his subconscious, mentally torturing him.

And he knew it was true. If he had brought the suicidal Uruk-hai down like he was supposed to, none of this would have happened. Helm's Gate would have never come down, Saruman's evil army wouldn't be storming Helm's Deep right now and slaughtering innocent Men and Elves all around him, and the people of Rohan would have stood a better (although still not great) chance against Saruman's powerful army. If Helm's Deep fell and the innocent people of Rohan slaughtered, he knew it would be in part thanks to him and what he did…or rather, what he didn't do by not killing the Uruk and failing his companions and the people of Rohan…

The cold, steely rain pouring down upon the Men, Elves, and Orcs fighting for all they were worth around the Elf mingled with the angry, hot tears that fell from his cerulean blue eyes as he cast about, looking for someone he could help, perhaps some Man who was fighting a losing battle against an Orc or one of his own kin who was struggling…someone…anyone…

It was then that his keen Elven eyes spotted his companions running through the newly opened gap in Helm's Gate, Gimli with his axe drawn and Aragorn with Andùril drawn and gleaming even in the dull, dreary, black rain that pelted down mercilessly from above.

It was also then that he saw the Orc that suddenly lunged out from the swarming mob of Men and Orcs, lunging right for Legolas's nearest companion, Gimli.

"GIMLI! LOOK OUT!" the Elven archer bellowed in alarm as he reached for an arrow and notched it to his bowstring.

The burly Dwarf swung around to face the oncoming aggressor, startled, but prepared. His axe whistled through the air, cleaving through the Orc's armor into its ugly flesh. A second later, an Elven arrow was buried in the Orc's throat before it fell to the ground, just another carcass to be added to the pile left for the carrion eaters.

In that precious second that the Elf was distracted, he failed to notice the dark figure malevolently creeping down a pile of debris from the Gate just above Legolas, a hideous, heavy, clumsy, Orc bow in its claws with a thick, dark shaft notched to the string…

It was only a second later after Legolas allowed himself a small, grim smile after seeing his stout, yet brave, Dwarven friend axe the Orc and seeing his own arrow find its target that the Elven archer turned around on a strange impulse-

And found himself looking up at an Uruk-hai glaring down at him with evil glee like a gargoyle as it drew back the string on the bow…and released.

"LEGOLAS!"

For the three companions, time seemed to freeze for one moment. The fierce sea of battle tossing them in its dark, relentless waves of oncoming enemies seemed to suddenly fall uncannily calm and still, like the calm before the storm.

They fell momentarily deaf to the raucous, horrifying sounds of war-the fierce, piercing, reverberating battle cries, the terrified, agonizing screams of the wounded that were abruptly strangled in their throats by death's icy grip, and the urgent commands bellowed up and down the battlefield both in the common tongue of Men and Elvish.

They fell temporarily blind to the even more horrifying sight of war all around them- mutilated carcasses of friend and foe alike scattered undignified in small piles, the wounded screaming for mercy, for death, and ruthless Uruk-hai cutting down Men where they stood, and Uruk-hai falling in return- except for the most horrifying sight to them.

Legolas staggered slightly on the spot, his Vilya-blue eyes wide and incredulous with horrified shock as he clutched his right hand to his chest where a thick, ugly, black Uruk arrow shaft protruded, the arrowhead buried deep within his chest so that only a few inches of the black, thick shaft was visible.

Aragorn and Gimli watched in the icy, numbing grip of paralyzing shock as they saw the Elven archer's fair face, wet with the heavy-falling rain, crumple and become twisted in a mask of agony as he clutched at the arrow buried in his chest in vain.

Slowly, ever so agonizingly slowly, he stumbled and fell down on one knee before the enemy who had wounded him. Then, with that same helpless, shocked, anguished, and agonized expression frozen on his face in the cold, dead rain that fell from the gray, dreary havens that looked on mournfully, Legolas collapsed softly sideways, his hands clasped to his wound, as he was prostrated helplessly before the evil Uruk who had switched from a bow to an axe, a cruel, ill-made, yet deadly axe that it swung down at the fallen Elf.

"LEGOLAS!"

Gimli and Aragorn's desperate, horror-filled cry tore through the air and echoed in the still, dead air of battle as they rushed their companion's aggressor at once, blinded by their rage to see anyone or anything else that might stand in their way as they charged the Uruk-hai with their weapons brandished. In that moment, all they saw was their wounded Elven companion lying helplessly on the ground, dying, with an arrow shaft buried in his chest and that evil Uruk-hai with its malevolent, twisted, yellowed grin as it bore its axe down at the Elf's head-

Before an Uruk axe could hew an Elven neck, Andùril's death-tipped blade came whirling around through the air, hissing like a serpent set to strike. Aragorn's blade made a complete circuit as it slashed through the air, intercepting an Uruk neck as it made that full circle, sending the Uruk's still grinning, ugly, black head flying as it parted from its owner's shoulders.

At the same time, Gimli's axe came swinging around mercilessly, the axe head biting deep through the Uruk's armor into its hideous, stinking flesh. The axe nearly cleaved the wicked beast in half and would have definitely killed the Uruk if Aragorn's Andùril had not parted it with its head a second before.

As Gimli wreched his axe from the monster's body with a grunt, Aragorn kicked the vile, headless corpse away to go join its horrid, slain kin in a reeking pile to be left to the mercy of the carrion eaters.

The enemy slain, Aragorn and Gimli turned back to the more important matter, Legolas, who was lying among the dead and wounded.

Aragorn dropped to his knees in the mud beside their fallen companion while Gimli knelt over the fallen Elf, his axe still in hand.

"Legolas," Aragorn said quietly, his low voice trembling with fear as he cast his eyes down to the arrow shaft sunk deep in the Elf's flesh.

Crimson red blood spread across the front of Legolas' green tunic, the blood blossoming like a red rose opening its petals in summer, staining the White Tree depicted on his tunic a deep, rich, deadly red.

"You pointy-eared fool!" Gimli growled, his usually gruff voice suddenly choked and broken. "You told me to look out, and you weren't even watching for yourself! What's the good of having sharp eyes if you don't even use them to look out for yourself? That's what you get, you foolish Elf! That's-" Suddenly, Gimli broke off, his gruff voice choked as he cried out, "Oh please, Legolas, don't die! It's all my fault! Please don't die!"

The Elf's eyes opened slowly, painfully. They were hazy and clouded over, the brilliant spark of vitality that had once been in them shrouded by the dimming veil of death coming upon him. Through dull, glazed over, half-closed eyes, he glanced down at his front, watching his own blood spread from the wound across the front of his tunic. His long, slender hand shakily, gently touched his own bleeding, painfully heaving chest, coming away with his deathly pale skin turned red with his own blood…

"Blood," Legolas whispered hoarsely as he watched a few crimson drops drip from his long fingertips back onto his blood soaked tunic. "My own blood…"

"Legolas, lie still. We're going to get you inside and get this arrow out of you. You'll be fine, mellonamin*, you'll be fine…" Aragorn murmured fearfully, his own voice trembling as he tried to reassure them all.

Before he could do anything, however, Legolas raised a trembling hand dripping with blood to stop him.

"It's…my fault…" Legolas said as he gasped sharply for breath, hissing with pain. Crimson blood blossomed in his mouth, a red trickle running down his pale, damp skin from the corner of his mouth. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth in pain before murmuring, "I…deserve to…die…Forgive me…Gimli…Aragorn…I failed you…Amin ikotane hiraetha*…"

"That isn't true, you pointy-eared fool!" Gimli cried fiercely, his furious tears mixing with the icy rain lashing down from above. "That isn't true, and you know it!"

"Gimli," Aragorn said quietly, his voice low and urgent as he placed a hand on his Dwarven friend's shoulder to calm him while they both stared helplessly at their dying friend, "Legolas is fading from us quickly. The arrow shaft is buried deep within his chest. If the arrow head breaks off, it may pierce a vital organ and kill him, or he may bleed to death quickly. We must get him inside if we are to remove it." Turning to stare the Dwarf in the eye, he said urgently, "You must clear the way for me. I will carry Legolas."

As Aragorn knelt to lift the wounded Elf, Gimli asked him anxiously, "And then once we remove the arrow, he'll be all right, won't he? He'll live, right?"

Aragorn had no time to answer at that moment for an Orc came charging upon the three companions standing still amidst the fierce battle, its flat, jagged, crude blade drawn. It didn't get far, however, before Gimli's axe came swinging around, cutting a deep gash in the vile creature's abdomen, spilling its burning, black blood and ending its life.

As the dead Orc fell, Gimli whirled his axe, its blade stained black with Orc blood, menacingly above his head, a powerful, burning bloodlust coursing through his veins. Glancing back at Aragorn, his beady, dark eyes gleaming with the light of battle, he declared boldly, "Then I will lead the way. No Orc shall be left standing if it comes in the way of the axe of Gimli, son of Glòin!"

"Indeed, mellonamin. Indeed," Aragorn replied solemnly as he knelt to lift Legolas. He slid his arm gently beneath the Elf's back and slid his other arm under the Elf's legs as he lifted the tall, limp form from the ground, always mindful of the arrow so as not to drive it in deeper.

Once he had lifted Legolas, who was surprisingly light considering how tall he was, he gave the nod to Gimli.

"Lead on, my friend. Lead on," he said.

~*~*~*~*

*Amin ikotane hiraetha- I am so sorry.

*Mellonamin- My friend.

So what did you think of that? Was it good? Was it terrible? Do you think I am horribly, sadistically mean to Legolas and should go see Dr. Aynut to find out exactly what's wrong with me? (See 'Legolas Sees a Psychiatrist' for details.)

Well, then please tell me in a nice review! Constructive criticism is appreciated, and so are compliments. Flames are…okay…Chapter two will be up when I find time to write it and post it.

Thanks! ^_^

~*Jeniveela*~