Wandering

By: Alilacia

Rating: PG-13

Feedback:

Spoilers: None that I can think of.

Disclaimer:

I do not own the Lord of the Rings, or anything to do with the film or books. That honour goes to Peter Jackson (et all) and J.R.R Tolkien. I have no permission what so ever to use these characters, will not receive any money for this, and am doing this for my own enjoyment. And to get away from doing my college assignments

All the characters belong to J.R.R Tolkien, and only Olantien and Nebridë actually belong to me. But if anyone wishes to use them, all you need to do is ask.

Series:

Mortality

Lessons

Wandering

Summary:

Aragorn is now reaching his 21st year. Many skills he has learnt, and some of the patience of the elves has finally sunk into the young human.

His skills are put to the test when Aragorn steps out of Rivendell on his own for the first time. Much has he learnt about the rangers that saved his life, and Aragorn finds himself wishing to experience their life.

Aragorn's travels take him over Caradhras and heads south towards Lothlórien. On the way he meets the dwarves and is caught in a battle between the orcs and the dwarves.

Shortly after he finds himself in Mirkwood, home of the woodland elves. Will a man who grew up in Imladris be able to strike up a friendship with their woodland kin?

Mae govannen::grins:

This is the third instalment in the Lennath Series. According to the site I found on the internet 'Lennath' is apparently journey's in Sindarin. I apologise if it isn't, my elvish skills are not the best in the world.

So in English it is basically 'The Journey's Series'. I decided to call it The Journey's Series, because that is basically what all the stories are about: Legolas' and Aragorn's journey's though life, and the paths it takes them on.

This is the first chapter of Wandering. I hope you enjoy it, and if there is any mistakes in it I'd be very grateful if you'd let me know. :smiles:

Thanks again for the reviews that 'Lessons' received, they really did brighten my day

First I am going to make it clear that this is a NON-SLASH, so you won't be finding any relationship between Legolas and Aragorn that is any closer than brothers. I'm sorry if you don't like that, but I'm not going to make it any different.

I have not read the Silmarillion, or any of the other history/information books published regarding the Lord of the Rings. So I apologise if there are any mistakes in these stories. Feel free to let me know if there are. I am learning new things each day, and I owe quite a few people major thanks for some of that information.

This story isn't actually beta'd (in fact none of them have been so far) so there are probably quite a few mistakes in them.

Here is the next part, I hope you enjoy it.

Namárië nin mellyn

Alilacia

Wandering

Chapter 1 - Open roads

Leaves were crushed under booted feet, and a young man strode out of the trees.

Aragorn son of Arathorn was his name, and he was eager to get going.

Calloused hands adjusted the quiver on his back, and a tanned face turned to the sun.

The warming light was just reaching out over the sky, and darkness was receding in its wake.

Aragorn grinned as he increased his pace. It had taken some convincing of his elven family that he was ready for this trip, but after a while they had to admit that they could not deny him leave.

No matter how much they wanted to.

Although, Aragorn himself had a reason of his own as for his departure. And it did not solely lie with the desire to see the world.

Aragorn had had a very sheltered childhood, and he wanted to remedy that fact.

His learning had started by researching all he could on the people who saved his life. Much information there was on the rangers, and Aragorn found himself captivated by the lives they led. It intrigued him to find out that his father, his late human father, had been a ranger; and Aragorn had the sudden desire to travel.

To see new people, and visit new places.

"Estel... I cannot keep you back from seeing the world. All I ask is that you be careful."

The parting words of Elrond came back to him as he stepped under the shadow of the tallest trees that marked the edge of Rivendell's forest.

Aragorn would do all he could to honour that promise he had made in response to those words, although he could not promise that he would not get hurt.

Behind him loomed the dominating form of Caradhras, and in front the Trollshaws, and the in distance: the Shire.

Aragorn himself had had no previous interaction with the hobbits, but knew better than to travel there.

The Hobbits were a reclusive race by nature, and sought to hide away from prying eyes. Although they would probably be friendly if he stepped onto their door, they would treat him with the same welcome they gave all outsiders. Initial welcome, but lingering distrust.

Turning his gaze to the west, Aragorn looks to the peaks that shone with the rising light. Caradhras. A formidable enemy in the winter, and potentially deadly to some in the summer. The peaks of Caradhras had not been walked by Aragorn before, but the tales of the swift snow storms that could appear suddenly and vanish as quickly as they came had been impressed into him from a young age.

Aragorn knew better than to travel through the icy peaks during the cold bite of winter unless there was no other choice.

And, since it was summer, and the peaks of the Misty Mountains carried as far as the eye could see; Aragorn had little choice but to walk over the frozen trails, and prey that nothing unfortunate happened as he walked the icy paths.

The climb was arduous, but Aragorn was fitter than most, and continued on. High was the sun as the young human reached the peaks of Caradhras.

From this height, one could see for miles around, and Aragorn took this moment to take in the impressive view before him.

The vast woods to his right were shining like a sea of emeralds, and the rushing sound of the river was quiet to his ears. Far to the south the woods of Lothlorien were only just visible, gleaming like beacons of gold and silver on the horizon.

Warmed by the sun and the sight before him, Aragorn decided to make for Lothlorien. The tales of their kin that resided in the fair woods had been told to Aragorn for many years now, and the stories of the light of the Galadhrim and the magic in the fair woods were one of his favourites. Long had he wished to set eyes on the Lorien elves.

With his destination set, the long journey across the Misty Mountains was ahead of him. And with the light already nearing its highest peak in the sky, he would have to hurry. For the ranger had no desire to be caught on Caradhras at night.

This terrain was new to him, but Aragorn didn't let this get him down. The freedom of answering to no-one, and just walking was incredible, and Aragorn could see why some would choose to live like this.

But these thoughts did not envelop him enough that he forgot his elven home, in fact he would welcome a chance to stay there forever. Just as soon as he was done seeing all that he should see.

Aragorn adjusted the sword on his belt and turned his gaze to the south. The woods of Lothlorien were closer now, and Aragorn felt as though the very land seemed to light up the closer he travelled to the fair woods.

The grass crunched under his booted feet, and the air was clean. It was the Glädden Fields that he was walking through, and the grass was as green as any of the untouched areas of Middle Earth.

Not that far outside of his field of vision was the Great River, or Änduin in the elvish tongue. The great river was broad, and swift was the current. If one was caught without a boat in the rushing waters, then it would be up to the river where you ended up.

Aragorn tensed as the wind that brushed past him spoke of a great danger. He could sense nothing, but had always been told to trust his instincts. And his instincts were telling him that there was something here that should not be.

His hand automatically dropped down to rest on the hilt of his sword, his hearing attuned to all that was around him. His every sense trying to find what was putting him on edge.

The human was at a disadvantage here. The Glädden Fields were large, and left Aragorn easy to see. And vulnerable to an attack.

His hands left his sword and reached back to pull out his elven bow. Within seconds an arrow was notched and held in able hands.

His silver eyes were scanning the open fields for any signs, and he grew more tense with each passing second.

The sudden cry of a flock of crows made the young human jump and his arrow swung to face the mountains. Circling over the peaks were the birds, and Aragorn lowered his bow.

Laughing quietly at himself, he looked around again. Perhaps it was the birds that he had felt.

No sooner had the young ranger thought this thought did a large group of orcs and dwarves come down the slopes of the mountains. Neither side was showing the other any mercy, and it looked as though the orcs were trying to force the dwarves further from their mountain home.

And it was cutting off his path down the plains.

Aragorn sighed and cursed his misfortune. No choice now but to fight his way across. His hand once again fell to his broadsword, but this time the sword was pulled out of the sheath with a low scraping sound.

On almost silent feet the human advanced towards the nearest orc. With a low cry its head left its shoulders and the dwarf it was fighting looked up in shock at the human that had come to his aid.

There was no time for pleasantry as another growling orc advanced on the pair, its scimitar raised high above its head, and a bloodthirsty glimmer in its eyes.

The look didn't last long as the heavy body fell to the ground with a dwarvish axe in its chest. The dwarf used his foot to brace himself as the axe was pulled quickly out of the cooling body, and used to cut off the arm of the snarling orc that took its place.

The broadsword cut a stinging path through the air as Aragorn advanced towards the rivers edge. Here the battle wasn't so fierce and Aragorn hoped to be able to quickly move past the attacking races.

Or so he thought.

The attacking orcs pressed the dwarves closer and closer to the river with each weapon swung. Despite the dwarves best efforts, they were slowly pressed back, and the river loomed closer and closer.

Aragorn found himself slipping on the edge of the bank as he pressed himself to move faster. Just as his foot slipped on the bank again, his balance was thrown off by the force of an impact with a dying dwarf.

The blow knocked Aragorn backwards, and his eyes met the sky as he toppled backwards into the rushing water.

The young human tried to fight the current, but the dwarf weighed him down and he could not make it back to the bank. With only enough time to take a shocked breath and use his arms to push the dwarf off his tired body, Aragorn felt his head slip under the water. The cold pressed against his chest making breathing difficult, and made his movements sluggish.

A frantic brain tried to persuade tired muscles to work, and his lungs screamed for air.

His head broke the surface only once, but it was enough to get air into his weakening body.

The combined effort of his water logged clothes and rushing current were enough to pull Aragorn under again, and he felt his legs scrape across the rocks.

Sudden pain lanced across his arm, followed by his head as he came too close to one of the sharper rocks of the river.

Darkness rushed in from all sides, and he knew no more.

TBC…