Chapter 8

For Summary, Disclaimer, Warnings etc, please see chapter 1. Thank you!

A/N:

Podlim (Quick-paw): The Poacher

Hador (Spike- or Arrow-carrier): The Hunter

Morgwath (Night's shadow): The Murderer/Killer

Dagnir (Killer, Vanquisher): The former captain and the one pulling the strings

I know, of course, that humans would not have Sindarin names, but I just couldn't resist. (It's fun!)

Beta: Chris! Hannon le!


"Just when you think life is so well,

it turn out to be like hell."

(M.E.)


Chapter 8: "Poison?"

The sun stood high in the sky, the birds sat chirping on the swaying branches of the oaks and ashes, willows let their arms play with the wind, the stream along the way gurgled merrily, and the fishes swam close to the surface, relishing in the warm sunny rays of the late autumn sun.

The elvish horses were trotting at a steady pace over the leave covered forest floor, their riders feeling the play of light and shadow that the sun created on their fair faces. It was a nice day, cold but clear, and the twins had finally reached the borders of their home.

For three days they had traveled through the woods, only stopping to rest the steeds and to sleep for a few hours. The elves had not spoken much, their thoughts with their friend and human brother. The feeling of unease had only intensified the further they went from the Misty Mountains and now, only a few hours from the Last Homely House East of the Sea, the feeling of foreboding got even stronger.

Elladan and Elrohir had no mind for the splendor and beauty of their forest; they ignored the autumn flowers and the last butterflies of the year. The river went unheard beside them and even the soft whispering and welcoming sounds of the trees was not enough to distract them and to free them of the stupor that had befallen them.

Last night, Elrohir had woken, trembling and sweating, something that the elf had not done since his naneth (mother) had sailed west. The nightmares of her torture and rescue had plagued the young elf for years and not even the soothing presence of his brother and father had been able to change that.

But the dark haired elf had not dreamed of his mother last night. Disturbing images had floated before his eyes, trees and bushes, dark and gloomy. He had dreamed of a white river and of walls of stone, of tiny flowers that withered under his gaze, of starless nights and then…of his little brother.

Elrohir had tried to grasp his arm, to call out to him, but Estel had neither heard nor seen him. One moment the ranger sat on his horse, tall and proud, the next he lay on the ground, screaming in pure agony, hugging his arms around his chest, writhing on the ground.

The screams had were so loud and full of pain that they had woken the shocked elf. Only when his vision had cleared enough for him to see his surroundings, had he become aware that it had been his own screams that had woken him from the nightmare and that Elladan was hugging him close to his broad chest. His brother had dreamed the same, the same horrid images had flittered through his mind, although he had been too shocked to scream.

Had it just been a dream? Only a dream?

They did not know.

They had packed their belongings, called for their horses and left within the hour. Riding through the nightly forest had only intensified their feeling of dread and now, only a few hours from home, they both felt the urgent need to arrive there quickly. For their own sake and their brother's. Mayhap their father, with his great ability of seeing the future, had seen more than they had.

Clutching the reins of his chestnut colored horse tightly, Elrohir stared at the path before him, lost in his thoughts.

By now Estel has nearly cleared the forest and is heading out onto the open plains. Even if we set out today with fresh horses, he will be more than six days ahead of us. Six days! Sweet Eru, please let it just be a dream.

Swallowing, the elf took a deep breath to calm himself. It would not help his foster brother if he lost it now. Not when he was not even certain if anything had or would happen at all.

But, to his utter confusion, the breath he took did not help him to calm down. No, instead, his stomach suddenly churned. Taken by surprise, Elrohir gasped, then clasped a hand before his mouth.

"Ro?"

Breathing shallowly, the elf turned, his face was ashen and sweat appeared on his brow. Swallowing again and feeling the bile rise in his throat, Elrohir stopped his horse and whispered, shortly before another wave of nausea hit him, "Dan, I think I don't feel well."

--oOo--

He had made good progress and left the soft slopes of the mountains behind him. Now, far up in the mountains, he had dismounted and was leading his horse by the reins, careful not to make a wrong step or to tread lose the little pebbles and gravel that littered the ground.

Legolas had ridden slowly, enjoying the sun on his face, the wind in his long, blond hair and the powerful horse under him. The view that had presented him as soon as he had reached the upper levels of the Misty Mountains had been breathtaking. On his second day he had stopped shortly before sunset, climbed onto a high rock and watched the sinking sun until it had vanished behind the horizon.

The sky had been of a wonderful orange, coloring the grassy plains and the forest at the bottom in the most splendid colors. Then the sun had shone bright red and the trees had burned with an inner fire, the treetops black against the red horizon. A deep blue had crept over the sky and as he had seen the light fade and the stars awake form their slumber, the elf had felt a complete happiness. It had been one of the most glorious things he had ever seen.

Now, on his third day, the way had become more uneven, the forest was hidden by the gray stone and the long mountainside. He was still far away from the snowy peaks or the other side of the Misty Mountains, and as he was still a day or two from the dangerous area where the mountain goblins dwelled, the archer felt secure enough to let his thoughts wander.

Since the day of their parting, a queasy feeling had settled in his stomach. He did not know where it came from or what had triggered it, but he was sure that it had something to do with his friends. Legolas was unsure whether it was the twins or Estel who were in danger, but one of them definitely was.

The feeling had grown stronger with every step that he had taken and only last night he had wondered if he should not turn around and head back. But where to? To Imladris? Or to the north? As he had not been able to find an answer to this question, he had broken camp in the morning and set out, heading home.

And really, mayhap his feelings were just an imagination. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. He always felt as if he would leave home, not return home when he left Imladris and maybe he was just "homesick". He was glad to go to Mirkwood and to see his ada again, but on the other hand….

Truly Legolas! What would the twins and Estel say if they could see you now? You are no mere elfling anymore. And furthermore, they are all old enough to look after themselves. No need to worry.

He snorted softly, making his horse turn its head and give him a surprised look. Elvish horses were much more perceptive than other horses, and it had long noticed that something was not as it should be with its master.

With the twins around there is always cause for worry! I swear, some day the terrible two will get into "real" trouble. One day they will forget to fight because of all their bickering and who will then have to help them? Right, a certain Mirkwood elf. And who will end up in the hospital wing? Right, same elf. Alas, it is a dilemma.

Now grinning despite his gloomy mood, Legolas walked on, his thoughts returning to the last night they had all spent together. And to the faces of his friends when he had told them about the very big and juicy maggots….

--oOo--

"Easy, Ro, easy."

Supporting his brother as well as he could, Elladan tried to soothe him with gentle words and his presence. It always made his younger brother feel more comfortable when he was injured, when he knew that his brother was with him.

Now, Elrohir stood near the path, the horses abandoned, one hand pressed to the huge tree beside him to steady him, the other held firmly over his stomach. His head was bent down and Elladan was holding the hair out of the way with one hand while he had the other wound around his brother's chest to keep him on his feet.

The nausea had come so swiftly that Elrohir had only narrowly made it from the back of his horse before he had no longer been able to suppress the urge to heave. Elladan, as shocked as his twin, had jumped from his horse and rushed to his side to help him.

Wave of wave of nausea hit the elf, making him heave and vomit until his stomach was empty and he was trembling all over. His eyes were tightly closed, sweat poured from his brow and his face was as white as a sheet. Taking shallow gasps, the elf tried to control his breathing and after a few minutes, he felt steady enough to lift his head and take a deeper breath.

When a bout of dizziness made him sway on his feet, Elladan hugged him close to his chest and steered him away from the tree to the other side of the path. Only when he pressed him down onto the soft grass, did the younger elf notice that he had moved at all.

"Here, brother, drink a bit of water. It will help." Elladan pressed the water skin at his brother's mouth and helped him drink a few sips, then he withdrew it and instead produced a wet piece of fabric to soothingly wipe his brother's face and neck.

After a few moments, he asked worriedly, "Better?"

Not daring to nod for fear of triggering another wave of nausea, Elrohir slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the sudden brightness of the sun and the reflecting river beside him. Taking a shaking breath, he answered, "Yes, thank you. I already feel better."

It was a bold lie and he knew that Elladan would sense it, but he did not want to worry his twin more than he already had.

"Do not lie to me, muindor nin (my brother). I am worried."

Caught.

Elrohir sighed and then shifted his position slightly. Almost instantly the ground began to tilt under him and the forest and the river danced before his eyes. He reached out and tried to grab hold of his twin's arm.

Elladan took his searching hand and, drawing his brother near to his chest, he rested Elrohir´s head against his shoulder, stroking the long hair. "Easy, Ro. Sh, all is well. It will pass. It will pass."

When it had passed, the younger twin felt weaker than he had done in a long time. His stomach felt uneasy and his hands were sweaty and trembling, his entire being shivering and shaking.

Still stroking his brother's hair and hugging him close to his chest, the older of the two asked gently, "Better?"

This time, Elrohir did not feel like lying. "Yes, but still not well."

Nodding, Elladan continued, "Ro, is there something you want to tell me? Something I need to know?"

Confused, his brother furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

Bending his head to be able to look his twin in the eye, Elladan asked sincerely, "Where are you hurt, muindor (brother)?"

"I am not."

"Ro, you have to be injured. Elves do not get sick."

An uneasy pause grew between them, the river the only sound besides the younger twin's still shallow breathing. Then, Elrohir looked deep into his brother's eyes, his own wide in sudden realization and disbelief.

He had spoken the truth; he had not been injured.

"No, they do not get sick. But they get poisoned."

--oOo--

The three men had followed the ranger through the woods, silent and invisible, neither seen nor heard. Streams had been crossed, trees avoided, fallen logs jumped and deep hanging branches cleared. Once or twice they had lost the man from sight, only to find him again later.

He had gone steadily north and had only stopped to water his horse and to rest for the night. Ranger that he was, he had never lit a fire nor slept for a long time, trusting his horse that it would warn him to any danger. And the horse had done just that.

Yesterday night, Dagnir had crept closer to the man´s resting place. He had been silent, never making so much as a sound as his booted feet touched the dry leaves and needles, crushing them under his weight noiselessly, almost like an elf. But he had not thought about the horse.

When the wind had changed direction, the animal had lifted its head, nostrils flaring and sniffing the air. Dagnir had stopped in mid step, holding his breath and cursing his luck.

Damn this stupid beast!

As another gust of cold wind had blown down his back, making his dark cloak fly around his legs and shoulders, the animal had neighed anxiously, pawing at the ground with its hooves and therewith alerting the ranger and waking him from his sleep.

The man had scanned his surroundings, sword in hand, but when he had neither seen nor heard anything, he had patted his horse's neck and then gently stroked its nuzzle, speaking to it softly in elvish. The steed had nudged the man's shoulder and then, being given the desired sugar treat, had returned to its place by the trees, ears directed at the forest around it and its master.

It had taken until the next morning and the silvery mist of the season before the former captain had been able to leave again safely. He was still stiff from standing motionless all night long.

This cursed horse!

Truly, he had not wanted to hurt the ranger or do anything. All he had wanted to do was see if the ranger was already beginning to feel the effects of his little poison. Three days had passed already and still the human did not show any signs of being infected.

If this potion maker has fooled me, he will pay for his treachery. I will make him beg for mercy before I kill him. He will die from his own poisons, slowly, painfully. And I will enjoy watching him suffer!

Grinning at the thought, Dagnir ducked under a low hanging branch and rode on through the woods, his horse neighing softly. Tugging at the reins brutally, he stilled the steed and dug his heels into its flanks rudely. The horse jerked under him and then trotted on.

Stupid animals! Good for nothing.

The former captain had never understood what some human's saw in horses. They were like all other animals. Good for working and serving as transportation means. One needed a firm hand to control them and if one gave them so much as a little freedom, they would turn against one. Their will had to be broken, not understood.

Just like nasty, little rangers.

Oh, he would break the ranger. He would bring him to his knees and see him suffer and then, very slowly and agonizingly, die.

And furthermore, he would die in the wilds, with only the hungry wolves and the beasts for company, with vultures high in the sky, and all those filthy elves would find, would be the busy carrion-beetles doing their work. His passage into the Halls would be lined with pain and fear and in the end, the ranger would feel so ashamed of himself that he would beg Mandos to turn him away.

Eyes gleaming at the thought, the hunter gripped the reins even tighter.

Soon. Soon…just a little bit longer.

--oOo--

The day passed like the rest. Estel had rode through the forest and when the sun stood high in the sky he stopped near a merrily gurgling stream to eat and to let his horse drink its fill. The sun filtered through the branches, creating a lovely mosaic of light and shadow on the forest ground.

The air was crisp and clear and he was certain that winter was not far away. A cold wind was already blowing from the close mountains, and Estel only hoped that Legolas would reach the other side before the first early snowfall. It would make the paths slippery and treacherous, even for a surefooted elf.

When the sky slowly turned darker and the sun vanished behind the treetops, the young man stopped his horse near the meandering stream and set up his camp for the night. Still, he did not dare to light a fire, and so he just wound his cloak and a blanket around his shoulders and settled against a boulder, his sword and bow near him and his horse grazing nearby.

Sighing deeply, the man reached a hand up to his temple and massaged it slowly with his fingertips. It had begun as a slight throbbing a few hours ago. Not even painful, only uncomfortable. Now, it felt as if a very busy orc was trying to split his skull with a blunt axe.

A very blunt axe.

Closing his eyes and continuing to massage his head, Estel tried to relax.

I should have stopped earlier. Or I should have taken some of the painkilling herbs. Ow, great. I love´ headaches. They make my life so wonderful peaceful and enjoyable.

Sighing once more and regretting it instantly as a painful pounding echoed in his head, he leaned back against the rock and stretched his long legs out before him. It would not help to think about the "I should have"s now. It was as it was and he could not change it now, anyways.

Letting his hand sink and rest in his lap as the massage only worsened the ache behind his temples, he tried to focus his thoughts on something else, to distract him from the ever mounting pain and the strange feeling that had begun to settle in his stomach.

He had already covered good ground, and if things went as planned, he would reach the base camp of the rangers within a week. Of course, he would not stay long in camp, but set out again almost instantly, back to the south.

Ironic. Actually, I could just wait here somewhere for the others to come. But no, first I ride north for days, and then the same way back for a few days. At least, I enjoy riding and the company of the other rangers. If just this damn headache would vanish…

Moaning softly as hot pain wriggled through his head, starting at his right ear and ending at his left, the man closed his eyes even tighter, willing the pain to pass. Breathing deeply, he focused on his breathing, an old trick he had learned when he had been a child and had been frequently assaulted by headaches.

It usually worked, but not this night. The pain grew from a constant throbbing behind his temples to a piercing ache that even affected his eyes and teeth…and his stomach. Not only did he now feel as if the orc was very inexperienced in what he was doing, but a beehive had moved to his stomach, upsetting it and causing the man to sit as still as possible.

Great. Just my luck that I should get the flu when I am not at home, but in the wilds. Where else? I should have known, something like this always happens when I am not at home.

Moving his hand to his mid section, the young ranger began to rub it in soothing circles, but after only a few moments the pressure on his stomach, as slight as it had been, made it flip and twist, making the man gasp and groan.

Wonderful…

Breathing shallowly to calm himself, or rather his upset belly, the human fought to think of something else.

My brothers might be home already. And Legolas has by now nearly reached the dangerous area, where the goblins dwell. I just hope he is careful…Of course he is careful, he is a warrior. Really Estel….

Sighing, he ignored his own thoughts and instead tried to imagine pictures of his friends and family. He saw his brothers and ada, then the prince, their last meal and then, to his utter dismay, Legolas´s face as he told them about the big and juicy maggots!

That´s it! No more. You are taking the herbs. Adult and ranger or no, no one needs to hurt when there is a remedy for it!

And so, Estel opened his eyes and blinked a few times to clear his… blurred vision. Confused about his sudden inability to focus, the ranger scrambled to his feet, surprised that they wobbled under him.

Ai, what have I done to feel like this? What is happening with me?

Slowly, he made his way to his pack and the healing utensils, as he suddenly gasped in sheer pain, sinking to his knees and crumbling to the ground, clutching his stomach. He gasped for breath but the pain that had exploded in his stomach was so strong that his lungs failed him.

Writhing on the forest floor, he clenched his hands around his middle and choked and gasped for air. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the pain vanished. Taking a shuddering breath, Estel rolled onto his back, still clutching his midsection.

Sweet Eru…

Timidly opening his eyes, he took a few deep breaths and when the pain did not return, he sat up gingerly. Shaking his head, he felt the throbbing of his headache and for a short moment he wondered if the sudden pain attack had just been an imagination.

No, too painful.

Climbing to his feet, he more swayed to his pack than he walked. Estel was only a few feet away from his pack and then, then the next wave of sheer agony hit him.

End of Chapter 8

Tbc

Chapter 9 is called "Pain"


Is this a cliffy? "grins evilly"

Sooo, finally the first signs of the poison! What do you think? What will happen to Aragorn next? And what about Legolas, he has shown no signs yet. Elladan and Elrohir have a hard time and they are elves, so what will Estel have to go through? Perhaps you could send me a review please; they inspire the author and make her post quicker. :o) (Bribing with reviews works :o) )