Legolas heard his own voice shout out as he came from the nightmare that had just ensnared him. This night it couldn't be denied, Aragorn had not been telling tales to get inside Legolas head. The elf could feel the pressure, the taunting unknowing of the future, needling him from within. His mouth was still pursed open wide and his voice was still crying out, in shock, in horror, in realization of all things. It made sense now and it was going to be all to real.
His hands flew to his face, shutting his mouth, turning off his voice, sliding against painfully hot miniscule beads of sweat loosed all over his countenance. Shakily his legs shook beneath him, stretching, crooking, standing. He was at his feet, his hands loosing his weapons from his side. Legolas bolted even hearing the shouts from his companions and their quick steps never too far behind.
The elf was too quick sprinting through the tiny conglomeration of trees they had bedded down in for rest. He wove through what felt like an old familiar path, cutting around rocks that would have normally struck him to his face if he hadn't had some unnatural clue they were in place. Determined he shot forth through the darkness, racing for what he sought without rightly knowing. His feet halting, they had served well, taking him to the brink of it all – the Cliffside, the chasm below, the expansive gorge to the next cliff straight across.
Legolas peered down, his eyes wide, wide as they had been in each dream. Pebbles rattled beneath his boot covered feet. In the moonlight he could detect their healthy decent to the below. A heavy sigh ran from his lips as he watched them drop down near weightless and beautiful to their defeat and their escape, a dual purpose and reward.
The distracting bound behind him took his attention. It brought him back to some senses and he heard the horrible noise, the shouting. He looked carelessly over his shoulder and saw Aragorn and Gimli, both mouths hanging dumbly open, but not enough to speak. He heard his own voice, over and over shouting and only then did he stop long enough to listen to his own cries. The recollection of the dreams pouring without sense from his lips. He shuddered and shut his jaw fast, the tremor going through it causing a chatter of his teeth.
"Legolas, it was a dream, and nothing more," Aragorn offered, a hand leaving his side its services pointed at Legolas if he should take them.
Legolas shook his head, the blonde whips already picking up with the breeze, swept around him unsure of which force of nature to serve. Gimli grimly stared forth, unsure of words or actions to aid.
"Put away any fear. There are none hear who wish to harm you. Step away, come, this way," Gimli attempted.
"No," Legolas shuddered, shaking his head, "No,"
"Legolas, just take a step back, come away from there," Gimli's hands were both up, swaying back and forth, a comforting motion.
Legolas watched both his companions over his shoulder a moment, wistfully,
before turning back to the view of the cliff. The breeze below beckoned him, he could feel the nightmare ending and the end whistled at him in that breeze.
"Do not break this fellowship anymore than it already has Greenleaf!"
"I can't let this happen," Legolas breathed, Arwen and the elves death fresh in his mind, a preview of what he had to stop from becoming.
"What plagues you so! What is in your dreams that frightens you and consumes you that you scream and carry on!" Aragorn demanded.
Legolas heard his forward step and turned back. He turned, face honestly dismayed, and gave Aragorn an impish wink.
"Take rest Ranger, you leave in the early morn,"
As Aragorn moved forward arm outstretch to take hold of Legolas garment, Legolas spread both arms and tipped forward, launching himself willingly and in silence over the edge of the precipice. The Ranger and the dwarf both lurched forward. Gimli only managing a stagger and Aragorn taller in stature landing at his knees, head bowed down taking in the plummeting form of Legolas, gracefully floating downward toward his own end. Aragorn immediately looked away unable to coax the detachment to watch the beautiful elfs final moments and his form in response tumbled backward, landing him sitting.
Before a word could be uttered and cried out, the hair of both Gimli and Aragorn blew back at the force and mercy of a great wind coming deep from within the gorge. Aragorn leaning back onto his knees, peered over the edge, fighting against the sudden great gust of air. Aragorn shielded his face with both arms and unknowingly made ready for the impact of a form thrown from the gorge straight at him. Aragorn with reflex caught the figure under the arms as it's back heaved at his chest, unbalancing him and thoroughly knocking him over onto his back so he was laid down.
The blink of an eye passed before sense came to Aragorn and he gazed down at the figure reclined atop him, the cascade of straight golden hair, slender build, frightened breath and pounding heartbeat. Legolas whimpered without moving an inch from Aragorns body.
"No," Legolas sighed hopelessly gazing across the cliff to the she-elf that had lifted him from the gorge and arms of death, "I tried, forgive me. I tried to save you,"
Aragorns arms instinctively raised and circled around Legolas to prevent him from attempting flight again. Legolas put up no fight, but went lip, quivering in the grasp of the Man. Aragorn pulled Legolas tighter to his body attempting to quell the shivering from the innocent elf of pale and frightened pallor.
Gimli was on his feet despite the strange and yet wonderful occurrence they had just beheld. His gaze was pointed across the gorge to the opposite cliff and his finger followed pointing his sighting to the other two beings still laid out on the ground.
"There," Gimli judged, "Do you see her,"
Aragorn looked up and over Legolas shoulder, faintly in the distance, only by the moonlight he spied what looked to be a woman standing on the opposite cliff. Her hair was fair much like Legolas and by her posture and angle towards them, she resembled him in height as well.
Legolas' head hung lazily to the side, his ear just barely touching against Aragorn's shoulder. Even at his visual disadvantage he could make out the form Gimli pointed to. His breath caught slightly before his eyelids drooped.
"Aragorn, please no," Legolas mumbled dropping off into exhausted slumber.
Aragorn looked to Gimli confused, annoyed, anxious and worried for the weary companion in his arms.
"An elf?" Gimli guessed.
"So it appears, what with the wind," Aragorn mumbled slipping his arms from around the now harmless Legolas as he thought of the miraculous feats he'd seen Arwen contrive.
"What think you of her, Man of Gondor?" Gimli questioned watching as the elf took seat at the edge of the cliff.
"I think she deserves gratitude and our kindness,"
Legolas lay whimpering and shaking, the memory and significant facts of his nightmares washing away their aid devalued by his step into the future he should not have been granted. His fingers gripped tightly to Aragorn's arms, folded around him, bathing him safety for the moment.
His good deed to all outdone by an unwitting foil to his plot of self-destruction. Instead he'd envoked her and found her in trying to erase her death from destiny. In the deep recesses of sleep, his recollection of the truth distorted and wasted away, he felt something for her, something deep, some meaning he couldn't place. He only knew he would have given his life for her and that only registered one thing in his age old mind. This feeling for her to come would be as much pain as a thousand lashes of a leather whip against his naked back yet his destiny ached for it.