This can't be real

I'm so sorry! It has been so long since I have published anything, and I know I promised you that story about a young Aragorn and Legolas, but a few weeks ago I decided that I really wasn't happy with the way the story was going, and so I cut 20,000 words from it and decided to rewrite the entire main plotline! Since then I have been reworking the story, and it has seemed to take a life of its own, coming to 46,000 words right now, and I am not finished! Hopefully it will only be a few more weeks until it is finished- I know where it is going now, and am a lot happier with it.

But for now, here is a 3-part mini-series I have been thinking about for a while. This is partially based on personal experience (not what actually happens, because unfortunately I do not live in Middle Earth). But the horrible feeling when something goes really wrong, when you just stand there thinking 'this cannot be real', is something I think quite a few people may have experienced. So there is angst here, but maybe just a bit of hopefulness towards the end.

This consists of three different oneshots, of different lengths. They are not chronological (well, the last two are. The first one takes place at any random time before the War of the Ring). These all centre around Legolas, and involve different people around him. Like many others, I assume Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas are all good friends. This is written book verse, meaning at the final battle in front of the Black Gate, the Dunedain and the sons of Elrond are there, and only Pippin is there, as in the books Merry stays behind in Minas Tirith.

I did publish this chapter yesterday, but something on this site went funny and it came up with loads of lines of computer code or something, so here is the update.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine. Wait…Wait a minute…I own Belhadron! He is actually my own character, so I hope you like him.

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Thunk.

The arrow buried itself in the straw of the target, steady in the centre of the painted rings. It quivered for a moment, before stilling. At least, it was still until another arrow pierced the target right next to the first, setting both arrows trembling in the straw.

A third arrow buried itself in the target, and then more followed, until the centre ring was full with arrows. The target stilled, the arrows slowly stopping their quivering.

Legolas nodded slightly and shouldered his bow, walking forwards and beginning to carefully work the arrows out of the straw, checking each one for damage before slotting them back into his quiver. He sighed as he tugged at the arrows, which were firmly embedded and hard to get out of the tightly woven straw.

Legolas had taken to practicing archery late in the evenings, when the sun was setting and things were relatively quiet, at least for Mirkwood. If he was being honest, he probably could not call this practice. He knew he could make the shots blindfolded by now. Yet it was an escape from the…he didn't really know what. He guessed it was just an escape from everything else that was happening right now.

The orcs were pressing on their borders once more. The southern woods had long since been abandoned to the darkness, and the elves retreated to the northern forests. At the moment there was a brief lull in the fighting, and several hunting patrols had gone out a few days back, intent on restocking the larders in the stronghold. Legolas had not gone, as he needed to be in the stronghold if an attack happened. His father had ridden out instead.

Legolas was still sure his father was irked by the fact his advisors would not let him ride out often to fight, unless there was dire need. Legolas honestly thought it made sense, but he would not tell his father that, not when Thranduil was pacing up and down his office, all too often flipping a dagger or some other dangerous object in his hand.

But Legolas also knew how much it angered his father when he rode out, away from the palace, and Thranduil could not. It was not so much that Thranduil could not leave- after all, he was King. Yet Legolas suspected that his father hated it when he came back with wounds, or when elves were killed out in the forest. Thranduil was not there, he was not able to do something about whatever had happened.

Legolas sighed, moving back to his position on the archery field. It was precisely these thoughts that he tried to avoid by coming out to the archery field when nobody was around. He took out his bow and an arrow, and nocked the arrow, raising it and drawing back the string.

These moves were so instinctual now; he did not need to think about any of it. It was just him and the target, the cold calmness and focus that often came over him in battle settling over him now. The arrow fled from the bow, striking the centre of the target yet again.

But as Legolas reached for another arrow, a shout pushed through his focus and made him turn. A figure was running down the steps onto the archery field, his dark hair flying around his face. "Legolas!" he called out. "Thank the Valar I have found you."

Legolas shouldered his bow, realizing from the hurried steps of the elf and the fact that his hand was resting on his sword hilt, even in the relative safety of the stronghold, that something was wrong. He reached the elf as he stepped onto the field.

"What is it?" he asked. "What has happened?" His hand inched towards his quiver at the thought that the lull in the fighting was over, that the orcs were pressing once more. "Orcs?"

"Aye," said Belhadron. "But not in the way you are imagining." He took a deep breath. "Legolas, one of the hunting parties was attacked. They've just made it back. It's bad."

Legolas grimaced, and turned to climb the steps up to the stronghold with Belhadron. "How bad?" he asked, his voice almost sounding resigned.

"No fatalities so far," said Belhadron, his voice tired. And he was tired. All of the warriors were tired right now. The past few days had been the only chance for them to get some sort of rest. Even then, most of them were so alert and tense, waiting for the next attack, that sometimes attempting to rest was pointless.

"So far?" asked Legolas. "Ai Valar. How far south was the hunting party when they were attacked?"

"If you're thinking we strayed over into too dark areas, you're wrong," said Belhadron. "The party was over the elf-path, but not by far. They were tracking a party of deer."

Legolas grimaced. "Please tell me they at least brought back some of the meat," he said. He reached the top of the steps and ducked inside, turning left to head for the healing wards. "We need as much as we can get, if the orcs resume their attacks. Do you think I should recall the other hunting parties?"

"They may be in danger as well," said Belhadron. "But anyone sent out to recall them will have to travel in groups, and that will be slower. They are all due back in a few days, anyway. And yes, they brought back some supplies, though obviously not as much as they could have…given the circumstances."

Legolas nodded and sighed again, turning down a corridor towards the healing wards. "Who is hurt?" he asked. "And how badly? If we have many more warriors unable to be on duty, we will be at risk if there are further attacks."

"We have enough for now," said Belhadron. He looked up as they neared the doors to the healing wards. Legolas reached out and grabbed one of the door handles, and suddenly Belhadron grabbed hold of his arm. "Legolas, just stop for a minute."

Legolas paused, looking back at his friend. "What else is there, mellon-nin?"

Belhadron sighed. "The hunting party that came back was the King's. I'm sorry, I didn't know how to tell you this before. I didn't really want to."

"What do you mean?" asked Legolas, his voice carefully guarded. He was not letting himself think about all the possibilities that were trying to spring into his mind, not until he heard the words from his friend.

"The King has been injured," said Belhadron softly. "It's bad, Legolas. I'm sorry."

Legolas suddenly felt tired. He didn't do anything, just stood there with one hand resting on the door handle to the room where his father was lying, hurt. His hand clenched around the handle briefly. Maybe if he didn't open the door, maybe if he didn't go in, then it would not be true. Then this would be like a bad dream, and he would wake up.

It almost seemed like a dream, actually. That strange, slightly blurred around the edges feeling that dreams have, even Elven dreams, was here now. Yet the feeling was almost recognizable as well. Too many times he had had that brief, absurd moment when he thought that it was a dream, that whatever had happened was so bad that it was not real. But this time…

This time was the first time he desperately wanted that feeling to be true.

Belhadron stepped forwards. "Legolas?" he asked. He knew any words of comfort would not do much. After a while, all the words blended into one meaningless line, essentially saying 'IwishIcoulddosomethingbutIcan'tsosorryanyway'. He, along with most of the warriors, had learnt a long time ago that the best comfort was sometimes not something you could say.

Legolas looked up. "This can't be real," he murmured. "Ai Valar, this can't be real."

Belhadron grimaced. "What am I meant to say to that, mellon-nin?" He stepped forwards and gently pulled Legolas away from the doors. "Honestly, Legolas, what can I say to that?"

Legolas smiled a half smile. "I don't know," he said. He leant with his back against the wall and ran a hand through his hair. "Ai Valar."

"I know," said Belhadron. He moved and stood next to Legolas, leaning back against the wall with him. "Do you want to go inside?"

Legolas shook his head. "Not just yet," he muttered. He looked over at Belhadron. "Is it just me that thinks this is the wrong way round? My father…" He trailed off. "I am always the one injured, the one who ends up in those rooms. Not my father. This…This just all feels like it can't be real. Like it shouldn't be real."

Belhadron nodded. "I know the feeling. That time when I was recalled from patrol because you were badly wounded and I was needed, I spent the entire ride back here thinking they had gotten it wrong, and that I would turn up to find you about to lead out another patrol, and that we would have to hunt down whoever had gotten the message wrong. I was honestly convinced of this, until I rode up to the gates to see the King waiting there for me. So I understand it, Legolas. Maybe not quite in the same way, but aye, I know the feeling."

Legolas smiled. "Thank you," he said softly. Belhadron shrugged.

"I am only doing it to save myself," he deadpanned. "I don't want to have to deal with your father's council all on my own."

Legolas chuckled. "You are still going to have to deal with some of them," he said. His small smile dimmed. "There is going to be a lot that needs doing soon."

"Aye, I know," said Belhadron, looking over at the doors. "But we'll manage. We always do."

Legolas nodded and sighed, leaning further back into the wall. He knew better than to ask Belhadron whether his father would be alright, whether everything would be fine. After so long serving as a warrior, he knew it was a pointless question to ask. They didn't really have much say over how things would turn out.

"I swear this is one of the worst parts of being a warrior," said Belhadron, almost as if he could read Legolas' thoughts. Legolas glanced over at him.

Belhadron smiled. "Well, one of the worst parts apart from the injuries and the risk of dying, but I do really hate this part as well." He grinned at Legolas' chuckle. "The waiting, knowing that you can't do anything anymore."

There was a lot more that could be said, of course. About that horrible feeling when you realize that it has been taken out of your hands, the cold realization that you can no longer do what it is you are meant to do; you can no longer protect the people you want to protect. That is one of the worst feelings, because being so helpless becomes harder and harder the longer you fight.

Legolas sighed, looking over at the door he had yet to go through. "It's almost like if I don't go through the door, it can't be real. It's like if I stay out here, then there's a chance it isn't real."

Belhadron smiled slightly. "Not your best logic, I admit," he said. Legolas looked over and smiled at him, and Belhadron grinned. "But then again, it is not the worst I have heard from you. Yet you know that is not how it works."

Legolas grimaced. "I know, I know," he muttered. "But I wish it did."

"Legolas…" Belhadron's tone was warning, and Legolas pushed off from the wall with a sigh.

"I know!" he snapped. "Ai Valar, I know. I can't change this, can I? No matter how much I wish I could, I can't." He gritted his teeth in frustration, and turned around to face Belhadron. "Ai Valar, I hate this."

Belhadron nodded and pushed off the wall to stand beside Legolas. "Do you want me to knock?" he asked with a grin on his face. Legolas managed to roll his eyes.

"I can knock on a door, Belhadron," he muttered. Yet when he went to the door, it was a lot harder. He grimaced and felt Belhadron's hand fall on his shoulder. Raising one hand, he knocked quietly on the door.

After a few seconds it opened, and a quiet conversation ensued between the healer on the other side of the door and Legolas. A few moments later the door widened and both Legolas and Belhadron slipped inside.

Sometimes the hardest thing to do is just to realize that whatever is happening is real, and that you are not going to wake up anytime soon. After that, everything will not be fixed, but it may be a little better.

To Be Continued...

Next chapter will be up tomorrow! As always, reviews are welcome.