A/N: I am so sorry for how late this is… I know, I'm awful at updating But y'know, it was my birthday, I needed to go Christmas shopping, I had tonnes of coursework… etc. You don't really want my excuses.
Thanks for all your wonderful reviews – you guys are awesome! Sorry if my guesses of how long it would take to travel distances are a bit off in this chapter – I literally was just guessing!
Who's seen the Hobbit? I loved it! Especially Thorin and Kili!
"How long?" he hissed. His voice was like the screech of metal against metal, and he felt a surge of satisfaction as the Orc visibly shuddered at the sound.
"Depends how fast they move, my Lord. They could be—" It stopped abruptly as he crushed it against the wall, enjoying the look of terror on its twisted face.
"How many days, fool?" He released it just enough to allow it to speak.
"A week – maybe eight or nine days," it gasped.
He rose to his full height, staring down with contempt at the creature cowering on the floor. "Prepare," he said.
"Get up!" An iron-toed boot slammed into Aragorn ribs and his eyes flashed open. It took all his willpower not to give the Orc the satisfaction of hearing him groan in pain.
The cold, merciless eyes stared down at his for a moment, before repeating what it had just said. "Move." At the slight sigh that escaped the man's lips, it gave him one more vicious kick for good measure, and turned away.
Sitting up slowly, Aragorn was surprised to find that the short, restless sleep had actually done his battered body a world of good. Aside from his now-aching ribs and the leftover bruising from the fight, most of the rest of him seemed to be in good working order – or at least, as good as could be expected. There was still a faint throbbing in his head, and his shoulder felt a bit stiff and sore where he'd fallen on it off his horse, but both were easily bearable.
With another grim sigh, the young man got to his feet. It was still dark, and frost crackled under his feet as his shifted slightly, trying to warm up. He shivered. Somehow, he had managed to keep hold of his cloak since the attack, and now he was glad of the thick, warm fabric – it was probably the only thing that had kept him alive in the cold of the night, he thought wryly.
Gradually, as he watched the Orcs get up and begin to get ready to move on, Aragorn became aware of another uncomfortable sensation in his stomach. Hunger. He almost laughed out loud – it seemed ridiculous that after everything that had happened, his body was still crying out for food. But after a moment or two, the slight smile faded from his face. He hadn't eaten or drank for at least two days, he estimated, and there would be no chance of escaping if he hadn't the strength to do so. With another heavy sigh, he realised he was going to have to do something about that pretty soon.
Destroying the peace of Aragorn's thoughts, a heavy hand slammed down on his shoulder. "Move, human," an Orc snarled, it's face about an inch from his. The Ranger recoiled in disgust at the stink of the creature's breath, then doubled over as it kneed him in the stomach.
"I need to eat," he managed to gasp, winded. The Orc looked down at him with something close to disdain in its eyes, if that were possible. Reluctantly, Aragorn gritted his teeth in self-disgust and added, "Please."
Without deigning to give him a reply, it turned away. The young man slowly straightened up and leaned against a tree, gingerly feeling his ribs and stomach. Where before there had been only a slight pain, now it felt like they were on fire. Several particularly painful lumps brought him to the conclusion that a few of his ribs were broken, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it now. He resigned himself to bearing it until he could get away and hoped it wasn't bad enough to damage his lungs. The idea was less than comforting, but the idea of getting away brightened his thoughts slightly as he began to plan for a chance to get away.
Coming back to present, Aragorn watched with a sense of foreboding as the Orc that had just kicked him marched through the closely-growing trees towards him again. With a slight surge of surprise, he saw that it was carrying a waterskin in its hand.
"Drink it," the creature growled, thrusting the water into Aragorn's face. The man did so, gulping the water down and sighing with relief. It felt like his body was finally waking up properly again, despite the slightly bitter, brackish taste. Briefly, he wondered whether it might be drugged, but he was too thirsty to care. It took all his willpower to stop gulping after half a minute or so, remembering that drinking it too fast would only make him throw up.
When the skin was about half empty, the Orc snatched it away again, none too gently. Chuckling silently to himself, Aragorn realised that though the leader of his captors had obviously ordered for him to be given water, none of the others were particularly happy about it. He wondered why, but the thought didn't really bother him. It didn't seem to matter now that his thirst had been quenched.
The group set off while the world was still in its pre-dawn darkness. The Orcs had clearly travelled this way before, because there was no way they could navigate by the stars in such dense trees. Through the occasional gaps in the foliage, as far as Aragorn could see there were very few stars visible, anyway. Their absence made him feel oddly lonely. The stars could always be seen in Rivendell… He could remember lying in the grass by the river, gazing up at them with Legolas and the twins, and his heart ached with sadness suddenly. Legolas' last words to him sprang into his thoughts again. It seemed unlikely they would ever lie in the peace of Imladris again, watching the stars with nothing else to trouble them.
Legolas bent with his head to the cold, frost-covered rock, and groaned in frustration. He had seen Aragorn do this so many times that he'd expected it to be simple.
He shook his head and sprang lithely to his feet, leaping lightly up the rock to look out over the forest from a higher vantage point. Evidently tracking was not as easy as it seemed when you had spent so many years watching an expert do it. If only you were here, mellon nin, the elf thought to himself, and immediately remembered that if Aragorn was with him he wouldn't be here at all.
It was a sobering thought.
With a sigh, Legolas turned his attention to the dark mass of trees spread out below, his far-seeing elf eyes seeing everything for miles around. Not that there was much to see. The forest, as always, was reluctant to give up its secrets, and after a minute or two of fruitless staring, he jumped down from the rock again.
"We shall just have to hope we are following in Estel's footsteps, shall we not, mellon nin?" he said quietly to his horse, stroking its muzzle gently. It nibbled his hand and nickered affectionately, unsettled by the underlying tone of sadness and worry in its master's voice.
Legolas smiled faintly. "Worry not for me, Haladras. It is Estel whom we must find." He mounted quickly, trotted carefully down the slope back to the road and continued along the route he had been maintaining since he'd left Elrohir and Elladan that morning.
He had a bad feeling that, no matter how much he wanted the young man who had been his friend and companion for so many years to be safe, something was wrong about this situation. There was something they'd missed… Something that should have been obvious. And there was that nagging sensation at the back of Legolas' mind that whatever it was, things were not going to turn out well.
It was a little after midday when Legolas sensed a change in the trees around him. It was still grey and overcast, as it had been all day, but now he felt an added atmosphere of hostility and tension in the air.
Trained to respond instantly to its rider's commands in battle, Haladras baulked at the slightly tighter grip Legolas took on the reins, crabbing round sideways in the road.
"Easy, boy. Easy," the elf muttered distractedly, scanning the trees for any sign of danger. There was a sharp bend in the road a couple of hundred metres away, he noticed, and past experience told him it would be an ideal place for an ambush.
Nudging his heels gently against the horse's sides and encouraging it softly in Elvish, he rode forwards, every sense on high alert. He took in every movement of the trees lining the sides of the road; heard every sound around him. But the moment he could see the road straightening out again beyond the corner, he knew nothing was wrong – at least, not in terms of immediate danger. Whatever had happened here had happened some time ago.
Coming to a stop and dismounting smoothly, Legolas dropped to a crouch and studied the ground. Though most of the tracks had been washed away the heavy rain, it was clear even to his untrained eyes that there had been some kind of fight here less than two days before.
He darted into the fringe of the forest and laid a hand gently against the trunk of on of the larger trees, feeling the raw, colourful emotions of the being. After a moment, he closed his eyes and stepped away to examine the tracks on the ground again, a cold hand of dread clutching his heart.
He had been right – there had been a battle here; an ambush. Orcs had hidden in the trees on the corner, waiting for their prey. They had been careless, breaking the branches of the trees and wounding them with their weapons. Legolas felt a surge of anger towards them, but forced himself to concentrate. Who was it the Orcs had been waiting for?
That was the moment when a glint of light caught on something in the corner of his eye, hidden under mud and leave and dirtied by the rain. Even before he picked it up, he knew what it was. He had guessed he might find it from the moment he felt the anger of the trees.
A sword – the sword.
The sword he had seen so many times, covered in enemy blood or hanging in its sheath on its master's belt. The sword that he had seen flashing and whirling as though it had a mind of its own, bringing destruction to anyone on the receiving end. The sword that, now, spoke volumes to the anguished elf holding it gently in his hands.
"Oh, Aragorn," Legolas cried to the empty forest. "What have I done?"
A/N: Again, sorry it was so late. I'll do my best to update again in a week or two, but it's Christmas and New Year, so I might not get an awful lot of writing done.
Hope you're all still enjoying it – tell me what you're thinking!