Chapter 27 – Reunions
Pippin stared everywhere, eyes wide, as he walked out on to the Pelennor Fields with Seraphina. He could feel her shaking and knew this was taking a toll on her. She should have been resting, healing, yet here she was, walking out as if nothing had happened. Pippin understood her reasons; understood more than most would. She needed to find Legolas, just as he needed to find Merry.
They had been walking for a while now, when they came across a dead Oliphaunt. Dead Orcs littered the field around it. Seraphina suddenly stopped dead, her eyes focused on a bundle of empty armour. She released Pippin's hand, and walked forwards, staring down. Curious, Pippin wandered over to her side. She let out a laugh of disbelief, turning to look at Pippin when her eyes were caught by something over his shoulder. Pippin followed her gaze and almost fainted. Underneath a dead Orc, a very familiar mop of curly hair was peeking out. Pippin gave a cry and ran over, tugging on his shoulders. He heaved and finally pulled out Merry. He fell backwards, landing on his rear, Merry's head in his lap.
"Merry! Merry, it's me!"
He watched as his eyes fluttered open, their gazes locked. He was alive. After everything, after all this pain and loss, Merry had survived. Pippin smiled down at his brother, words failing him. Merry groaned a little, clutching his arm.
Merry smiled a little, and Pippin sensed the sarcastic tone to his smile rather than seeing it. Tears blurred his vision as he clutched Merry tighter to him.
"I knew you'd find me."
Pippin nodded at his friend's words. There was no doubt in his mind that he would have found Merry. No matter how this could have turned out, he would have walked to the ends of Middle Earth to find him; he would have fought any number of foes to be reunited with him.
"Are you going to leave me?"
A little jolt of surprise went through Pippin; how could he ask such a thing? However, when he looked at Merry's eyes, he saw they were clouded with pain and confusion, and he decided to indulge his best friend.
"No, Merry. I'm going to look after you."
Merry nodded, satisfied. His eyes drifted closed, and Pippin shifted, pulling his cloak around the both of them. He was simply content to sit and wait for someone to take them back. He didn't mind how long it took. What mattered was that he had his other half back and no-one was going to take him away.
I turned away from Merry and Pippin, a little glow filling me. They had become so dear to me, so cherished, that I had felt all of Pippin's pain from being apart from Merry. To see them together soothed a little of my heartache. A small moan made me look to the ground. Beside a dead horse, a body lay on its back. Golden hair was splayed out round its head and the way it glittered in the afternoon sun made me gasp. I knew who that hair belonged to. I hurried over, dropping to my knees beside her.
"Éowyn! Éowyn, can you hear me?"
The Shield-maiden looked up at me, dazed. Her arm was at an odd angle and I knew it was broken. Tear tracks stained her cheeks, paths of creamy skin showing through the grime and blood coating her face.
She trailed off, her head flopping to the left. I looked over and let out a small cry. Théoden lay beside her, his body broken. I gently took her good hand, clutching it between my own. She turned back to me, her eyes so hollow that I did not know whether my words would give her any comfort.
"He is at peace now. You were with him at the end, Éowyn; he was not alone."
She nodded, fresh tears streaking down her face. Carefully, I pulled her up, letting her lean against me as we both stared at the dead King. Hoofbeats sounded behind me but I did not look away until a cry of anguish came from behind me. Éomer dropped down beside Théoden, shaking him.
"He is gone, brother. The Witchking killed him."
Éomer looked up, distraught. I swallowed my own tears, striving to stay strong, to give the two siblings support. With a shuddering sigh, Éomer stood and walked over, prising Éowyn away from me. I stood too, watching as Éomer placed his sister on to a horse. He sent the rider away to the White City and I watched as they cantered off. Éowyn had been the one to slay the Witchking; only true bravery could have defeated him.
I turned to Éomer, and embraced him. He buried his face in my shoulder, and his frame shook as he let out his grief. I closed my eyes, and hummed softly, letting the old lullaby Elrond sang to me drift in to the air. After a while, Éomer pulled back, quickly wiping the tears away. I smiled softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"You do not need to hide your tears, old friend. I share your grief. Do not worry about Théoden's body. The dead will be collected in time. Now, you must go to Minis Tirith. Your men need you now. They need their King. And Éowyn needs her brother. "
Éomer stared at me, and then nodded. He mounted his horse, and with a last look at me, spurred his horse on towards the White City. I watched him go, pride filling my heart. He would do Théoden proud.
I turned back to the former King, kneeling down. I gently rearranged his arms so they lay crossed across his breast. I touched his forehead with two fingers, and then stood. Staring at his face for a few moments, I took in all his features, committing them to memory. He would not be forgotten. I would make sure that he was remembered as one of the greatest Kings of Rohan. I sighed and turned away, surveying the battlefield.
Surviving soldiers milled around, helping the injured and identifying the dead. I began to despair when I couldn't make out the figures I was looking for, when a jolt of fire went through me. There, two hundred yards in front of me, were the exact three people I was looking for. Without a second's hesitation, I began to run towards them, such joy in me that I thought I would take flight.
Legolas watched as Aragorn released the Oath-breakers. His brother had shown the true qualities of the King of Men in this past battle. Many would keep the Army of the Dead enslaved, to do their bidding, but Aragorn had held their oath fulfilled and released them. Such actions were not common among the race of Men. Aragorn turned to him and Gimli, when Legolas felt a jolt of fire shoot through his body. His necklace blazed with sudden light. He whirled around, eyes locking on to the figure running towards them. All the breath left his body as she stopped a few yards away.
Her silver hair had started to come undone from the braid it had been bound in, blood and dirt crusted in it. Her blue eyes seemed huge in her pale, grime-streaked face. Her clothes were in tatters, rips and holes everywhere, the exposed skin bloodied and raw. He took a faltering step forward, not daring to believe it was her. It was a mirage, surely. Any moment, the breeze would blow this figure away, leaving him with nothing more than a fleeting image in his mind and a pain in his heart. Yet the wind came and there she still stood. His name floated to him, her voice weak and his restraint broke. He sprinted forward, as did she, a delighted cry escaping him. It seemed like eternity before she crashed in to him, her arms winding round his neck. He clutched her to him, pressing against her as if trying to merge their bodies in to one. It was her. It was really her. His wife. His One in Particular. His Seraphina.
He pulled away from the embrace. He ignored the confused expression on her face, and, not caring that his two closest friends were watching, captured her lips with his own. She answered immediately, her lips moulding to his perfectly. All her pain; her anger; her sorrow; her joy; all of it was contained in the kiss. In return, Legolas poured his soul in to it, one hand round her waist, the other cupping the back of her head. The unique taste of her lips assaulted his senses: vanilla, mixed with the metallic tang of her blood. She pulled back, breathing heavily and rested her forehead on his. He still held her close, their gazes locked.
His eyes, so dear to me, were wide and unbelieving as I stared in to them. My Legolas was holding me. All of my fears, all of my despair, was washing away as I drank in the sight of him. I did not care at that point whether Sauron had been defeated, and I did not care about the whispering in the back of my mind. All that mattered to me was the Elf in front of me, his arms tight around my waist. I had found him. The pain I put him through weighed heavily on me but I pushed it to the back of my mind. He was here, now. Tears of joy slipped down my cheeks, mirroring his own. I had not known true joy, had not know true love, until this moment.
No words were said, nor any sound uttered. They did not need the art of speaking to express their feelings. All they needed was the feel of each other's hands holding them close; the scent of each other surrounding them; the sight of the other all they could see. Unbeknown to them, the connection they shared had grown ever stronger. The invisible rope that bound them together glowed softly with iridescent light, bonding them even tighter. The children they had been blessed with, even in their tiny and undeveloped forms, could feel the love and the commitment their parents had for each other. They stirred slightly, eager to grow and meet the couple that had been through too many trials and tribulations to fall to the darkness now.
I am aware that my language may have been clichéd and OTT but you know what? I don't even care. I was sobbing the entire way through this. And for those of you observant enough to see that Sera has not even greeted Aragorn and Gimli, that's in the next chappie. And come on! If you were here, would you spend time greeting them or run in to the arms of your lost lover? Hmmmmm? And I made more of Legolas' feelings because I'm always doing Sera's and I thought you people would like to see it from his POV :)
Thank you for the kind reviews, favs, follows and reads! And its almost the end! :(