Rangers Lead the Way
Author: Elhwesta
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from LOTR or Black Hawk Down, which is the property of Columbia Pictures. I just thought this was a nifty idea and I haven't seen one of these yet, so don't sue me. R&R instead.
A/N: I've tried to be as accurate as possible in my use of military terminology. If there's something wrong, either let me know, or flame the Black Hawk Down website because that's where I'm getting stuff.
Let's get this story started.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Blackburn, no!!"
Private First Class Todd Blackburn lost his grip on the rope as an RPG (Rocket-Propelled Grenade) grazed Chalk 4's Black Hawk helicopter. Todd felt like he left his heart and stomach back at the top of the rope. He fell forever. Until he hit the ground with a muffled thud that was deafening to his ears. He might have heard something crack, but he couldn't tell. He had this sensation of water flooding his ears that drowned out all the sound around him. He couldn't hear the thundering spin of the helicopter's rotary blades, the small explosions of gunfire all around, nor the screaming of Sergeant Matt Eversmann.
"Blackburn, can you hear me?!" Eversmann yelled, hoping to get any kind of response. All he got was more blood oozing out of Blackburn's ears and nose. Eversmann managed to get Schmid, their medic's attention and waved him over frantically to make a diagnosis. Eversmann started screaming over his mic to Captain Steele that they had a man down, but nothing was getting through. After several tries to get help from Steele, he gave up and turned to Schmid.
"Well?!!" Eversmann yelled over the din of gunfire. Eversmann was trying desperately to keep cool and not panic. That was a primary thing that his training as an Army ranger had taught him: to not panic, even in the most dire of situations. Well, this was certainly dire.
"He's not dead," yelled Schmid, "but I can tell you right now, he's a long ways away from here."
Oh, they had no idea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Frodo had escaped the Ringwraiths at the Ford of Bruinen, but his condition had worsened as he tarried at the riverbank to challenge the Nazgul. Aragorn, Glorfindel, and thee remaining three hobbits quickly crossed the ford to get to Frodo. Glorfindel turned to Aragorn with an anxious, almost desperate look.
"Aragorn, I must take Asfaloth and get Frodo to Rivendell. He has but mere hours left."
"Go with speed, my friend. We pray for the safety of both of you."
With that, Glorfindel disappeared with Frodo and the great Elven horse Asfaloth.
"What do we do now?" Merry asked, anxious to know if Frodo would be alright.
"Now, Master Merry, we follow suit and head for Riven." Aragorn suddenly felt a strange sensation in his mind, like something was signaling to him, beckoning him. As a Ranger, Aragorn had learned to trust his instincts. He walked off in thee direction his gut told him to go, not hearing the questioning of the hobbits following him like stray puppy dogs. The feeling got stronger and stronger as Aragorn continued to walk.
"It is close," Aragorn murmured, mostly to himself.
"What is?" Pippin asked as the group broke through the bushes and low tree branches into a small clearing. Aragorn's eyes scanned the area and came to rest at a small pool to the right. There was a prone form lying on his back, elf or man he couldn't tell, next to the pool's edge, and from the looks of things he wasn't going to be moving anytime soon. As Aragorn softly treaded the ground towards the figure, he was alarmed to not see any chest movement indicating he was breathing. Throwing caution to the winds, Aragorn quickly knelt beside the figure and placed his ear next to the nose and mouth. Relived to find he was breathing, if only a little, Aragorn went on to examine the figure's wounds. There was blood seeping from the ears and nose, suggesting injury to the head and/or neck, and possibly even the back. Upon examining his neck and head, Aragorn noticed the rounded ears, confirming that he was of the race of Men. Aragorn decided to try and get the young man to respond. He opened his mouth to call out to the young man, but stopped as soon as he got a good look at his face.
"By the Valar," Aragorn breathed. He wasn't sure what to make of this.
"What is it? Is he going to be OK?" Pippin asked, his wide, innocent eyes full of concern for the injured stranger.
"Wow, he has some very queer belongings," Merry commented, warily poking at the black metal thing that lay near the young man. Aragorn wasn't listening. He was too lost to comprehend any question the hobbits could ask. The only answer they got was a single word.
"Legolas."
Author: Elhwesta
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from LOTR or Black Hawk Down, which is the property of Columbia Pictures. I just thought this was a nifty idea and I haven't seen one of these yet, so don't sue me. R&R instead.
A/N: I've tried to be as accurate as possible in my use of military terminology. If there's something wrong, either let me know, or flame the Black Hawk Down website because that's where I'm getting stuff.
Let's get this story started.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Blackburn, no!!"
Private First Class Todd Blackburn lost his grip on the rope as an RPG (Rocket-Propelled Grenade) grazed Chalk 4's Black Hawk helicopter. Todd felt like he left his heart and stomach back at the top of the rope. He fell forever. Until he hit the ground with a muffled thud that was deafening to his ears. He might have heard something crack, but he couldn't tell. He had this sensation of water flooding his ears that drowned out all the sound around him. He couldn't hear the thundering spin of the helicopter's rotary blades, the small explosions of gunfire all around, nor the screaming of Sergeant Matt Eversmann.
"Blackburn, can you hear me?!" Eversmann yelled, hoping to get any kind of response. All he got was more blood oozing out of Blackburn's ears and nose. Eversmann managed to get Schmid, their medic's attention and waved him over frantically to make a diagnosis. Eversmann started screaming over his mic to Captain Steele that they had a man down, but nothing was getting through. After several tries to get help from Steele, he gave up and turned to Schmid.
"Well?!!" Eversmann yelled over the din of gunfire. Eversmann was trying desperately to keep cool and not panic. That was a primary thing that his training as an Army ranger had taught him: to not panic, even in the most dire of situations. Well, this was certainly dire.
"He's not dead," yelled Schmid, "but I can tell you right now, he's a long ways away from here."
Oh, they had no idea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Frodo had escaped the Ringwraiths at the Ford of Bruinen, but his condition had worsened as he tarried at the riverbank to challenge the Nazgul. Aragorn, Glorfindel, and thee remaining three hobbits quickly crossed the ford to get to Frodo. Glorfindel turned to Aragorn with an anxious, almost desperate look.
"Aragorn, I must take Asfaloth and get Frodo to Rivendell. He has but mere hours left."
"Go with speed, my friend. We pray for the safety of both of you."
With that, Glorfindel disappeared with Frodo and the great Elven horse Asfaloth.
"What do we do now?" Merry asked, anxious to know if Frodo would be alright.
"Now, Master Merry, we follow suit and head for Riven." Aragorn suddenly felt a strange sensation in his mind, like something was signaling to him, beckoning him. As a Ranger, Aragorn had learned to trust his instincts. He walked off in thee direction his gut told him to go, not hearing the questioning of the hobbits following him like stray puppy dogs. The feeling got stronger and stronger as Aragorn continued to walk.
"It is close," Aragorn murmured, mostly to himself.
"What is?" Pippin asked as the group broke through the bushes and low tree branches into a small clearing. Aragorn's eyes scanned the area and came to rest at a small pool to the right. There was a prone form lying on his back, elf or man he couldn't tell, next to the pool's edge, and from the looks of things he wasn't going to be moving anytime soon. As Aragorn softly treaded the ground towards the figure, he was alarmed to not see any chest movement indicating he was breathing. Throwing caution to the winds, Aragorn quickly knelt beside the figure and placed his ear next to the nose and mouth. Relived to find he was breathing, if only a little, Aragorn went on to examine the figure's wounds. There was blood seeping from the ears and nose, suggesting injury to the head and/or neck, and possibly even the back. Upon examining his neck and head, Aragorn noticed the rounded ears, confirming that he was of the race of Men. Aragorn decided to try and get the young man to respond. He opened his mouth to call out to the young man, but stopped as soon as he got a good look at his face.
"By the Valar," Aragorn breathed. He wasn't sure what to make of this.
"What is it? Is he going to be OK?" Pippin asked, his wide, innocent eyes full of concern for the injured stranger.
"Wow, he has some very queer belongings," Merry commented, warily poking at the black metal thing that lay near the young man. Aragorn wasn't listening. He was too lost to comprehend any question the hobbits could ask. The only answer they got was a single word.
"Legolas."