Through the Dark
by SkyFire
For disclaimer, see part 1.
Thanks to everybody for the great reviews last chapter! Hopefully, the plotbunnies will decide to
bite sooner for the next chapter! Reviews help! ;)
*****
Through the Dark
by SkyFire
Part 10
Four days later, the company was no further down the Anduin than a single day's journey would
have gotten them had Legolas and Gimli been their usual selves. Gimli still suffered from the
motion-sickness. The Elf was still easily tired and often asleep. When he wasn't, he had become
somewhat irritable and snappish, and very sensitive about his condition. The rest of the
Fellowship suffered as well, because of the two. They had found that the sounds of a sick dwarf
were even *worse* than that of a sick Elf, and Gimli's loud and constant complaining had almost
everyone gritting their teeth in frustration and often imagining things they could do to him to
get him to be quiet. The only one who did not seem to be bothered was Legolas, but that might
have been because he was asleep most of the time.
"Aragorn!" came Gimli's call as he looked over from where he sat in Boromir's boat. "Surely we
shall stop soon?" He was going to say more, but just then the sickness claimed him again.
Aragorn sighed in frustration. They had gone barely an hour's journey, and already the dwarf
wanted to stop? At that rate, they'd all be dead of old age before they reached the point where
he'd planned to leave the river!
Then Legolas woke up, sat up in the boat from where he'd lain curled up amongst the baggage.
"Aragorn?" he called. "Are we almost there?"
"No," Aragorn answered with gritted teeth.
"Elf," Gimli growled, "if we were *there*, we would have *stopped* already! Right, Aragorn?"
"Dwarf," came the snapped reply as Elven eyes narrowed with quick, hormone-induced anger. "I was
not asking *you*. Your stomach is whirling enough I don't think you would know we had stopped
even if we *had*! Right, Aragorn?"
"Elf-"
"Enough!" came Aragorn's loud yell. "Both of you! Be silent!!"
The others in the Fellowship stared in shock at the Ranger. He was usually the epitome of
patience; never had they seen him lose his temper in anything other than a fight with the
creatures of the Dark Lord, much less raise his voice.
"Aragorn?" Boromir queried tentatively after a few long moments had passed in shocked silence.
"What?" came the snapped reply.
"Perhaps we should stop for a time, so we can all recall our tempers."
The Ranger was about to argue, but then thought better of it. "Fine. There is a spot just ahead
that looks suitable for a landing. We will stop there. Well enough?" His glare at the others
dared anyone -*anyone*- to disagree. Seeing the nearly-homicidal light in his eyes, no one said
a word as they guided the boats to the shore.
Once there, Aragorn stalked off into the wood to walk off his foul temper. The others set up a
small camp and set watch. Legolas unrolled his bedroll, lay down on it on his stomach and read
more of the book Galadriel had given him. Soon, he was asleep again.
***
Several hours had passed before Aragorn once again returned to the camp, his knuckles
suspiciously bruised and bloodied. He unrolled his bedroll, sat down on it and set about
pulling splinters from his torn knockles.
"What happened?" Boromir asked, gesturing to the Ranger's hands.
"I argued with a tree," came the snapped reply.
Boromir nodded slowly, understanding. He had wanted many times over the past few days to
pulverize something himself. "Who won?" he asked.
"I did."
Boromir stood beside the Ranger for a few moments more, an awkward silence between them. "About
the Elf-"
"Boromir. Leave me be."
With a shrug, Denethor's son turned and went to join the others near the fire where the hobbits
were cooking a meal.
As it happened, Aragorn's bedroll lay not far from Legolas'. And so it was that when the Elf
awoke, it was to see Aragorn sitting nearby. He mistook it for the Ranger keeping watch over him
from concern, and not the seething mood it was. So Legolas thought it safe to voice the thing
that was bothering him, scraping against his nerves, squirming uncomfortably beneath his skin
with every breath he took.
"Aragorn?" he called, stretching. "Could you get me some carrots? And some chocolate? No, no,
wait. Chocolate-covered carrots." He saw the Ranger's back stiffen, but shrugged it off as
startlement over his sudden speech. "Or perhaps some-"
"No."
"-and cherries, and-" Legolas blinked at the hissed word. "What? Aragorn?"
Aragorn slowly turned, spoke with teeth gritted tightly together. "I. Said. No."
The Elf blinked again. "What? But, Aragorn, I *need* them-"
"No."
"But-"
"No."
Legolas frowned. "But it's for me. For the baby. And I wouldn't be like this if it wasn't for
you!"
Unnoticed by either of the two, the rest of the Fellowship had gathered to watch the argument.
"Oh, don't try that!" Aragorn said, crossing his arms over his chest. "It isn't going to work."
"This is your fault, now get out there and get. Me. My. Carrots!"
"*My* fault? *My* fault? You weren't exactly unwilling, Greenleaf!"
Both Elf and Ranger had gotten up from their beds, now stood face to face, arms gesturing wildly
as they yelled, faces flushed with anger.
"And *you* aren't the one that got pregnant! Where is your sense of honor, of duty, of sympathy?
What about *my* needs?"
Aragorn ground his teeth together hard enough everyone could hear them. He had just opened his
mouth to reply when a group of perhaps thirty orcs and Saruman's Uruk-hai charged out of the wood
at them.
Distracted by the argument, the rest of the Fellowship had forgotten to keep the watch.
Legolas turned to face the interruption, eyes blazing.
Orcs and Uruk-hai alike skidded to a stop at the sight, a bit taken aback by the Elf's angry
glare. Also, having been created long ago by the first Dark Lord to be twisted mockeries of
Elves, the orcs were able to sense that something was not quite right about this particular Elf.
Legolas glared even harder when he recognized the dark and twisted forms. He started to reach
for his bow, but then changed his mind and took up his long knives instead. He felt the deep
need to release a lot of purely physical anger and frustration, the driving *need* to hack
*something* -or someone- to bits.
The orcs and orc-kin were a suitable substitute for Aragorn.
With an Elvish war-cry, Legolas ran full tilt at the evil creatures, knives flashing, golden hair
streaming behind like a banner.
The twisted ones, fear coursing through them, tried to backpedal, tried to flee from the
homicidal Elf, to no avail.
The others of the Fellowship could only stare in amazement as the Elf tore through the ranks,
felling orc after orc after Uruk-hai after Uruk-hai. His knives were slicked with dark blood,
and their brightness was undimmed even by the filth.
Within minutes every single evil creature that had joined in the attack lay dead upon the ground.
Legolas stood among them, chest heaving as he gulped in air, hands and arms and face splattered
with dark blood.
They watched as the Elf looked down at himself, made a face of disgust and headed for the river
to wash.
Aragorn sighed. He'd read in the book that these things could happen; the cravings, the mood
swings. Unfortunately, the book had listed no cure for this but time and emotional support.
Usually, the Dunadan would have given these things without hesetation, but he was distracted by
the Quest, by the rising forces of Sauron, by the probable reactions of their families to the
pregnancy... Since Gandalf's death, he was burning the candle at both ends *and* the middle and
had no support left in him to give to anyone but the ringbearer.
With a sigh, he decided that he should apologise to the Elf anyway, and explain himself. Surely
Legolas would understand, as he had to deal with a great deal of the same stress himself.
He turned just in time to see Merry and Pippin somehow produce a chocolate-covered carrot and
present it to the newly-cleaned Elf.
Legolas took it, eyes gone shiny with tears and took a bite. A blissful smile on his face, he
chewed and swallowed. He smiled at the two hobbits, gratitude in his eyes, then hugged them
tightly. "Thank you!" he said. "It's perfect!" Then he went and flopped down on his bedroll,
ate the rest of the carrot and fell asleep again.
The others stared at each other in bemusement, then shook their heads.
/Pregnant Elves./ Was the thought in many a mind. /Try to figure them./
Before he went to take his place at watch, Aragorn looked to Merry and Pippin. "*Where* did you
get chocolate out here?" he asked. "Or *when* did you get it?"
"Celeborn gave it to me," Merry said. Pippin nodded in support. "He said that I should have
some on hand in case Legolas had the same insane craving as Galadriel did. We're lucky he only
wanted chocolate carrots. She wanted a lot worse."
"And that was..?"
Both hobbits made a face of absolute disgust. "You don't want to know."
Aragorn growled low in his throat, then stalked out of the camp. A tree out there was waiting
for him to pulverize it, he knew it. After that, he had to keep watch.
***
In Rivendell, a messenger from Lothlorien, his letter newly delivered to Elrond, waited patiently
for a reply while the half-Elf read it.
He was nearly deafened by Elrond's outraged bellow scant minutes later, a bellow that echoed down
through the entire valley of Rivendell, startling birds into flight and small animals into abrupt
silence, even as every Elf winced and stared reproachfully in the direction of the shout.
***
Thranduil opened the letter the 'Lorien messenger had just handed him, briefly scanned the header
and ending signature. /Why would the Lady Galadriel send a letter to me?/ he wondered. He
scanned the letter briefly, catching a glimpse of the words 'Legolas' and 'pregnant'.
/Legolas got someone pregnant?/ he thought, frowning in confusion. /Why would Galadriel write me
of this? There has to be more to this than that./
Still frowning, he carefully read the letter, frown deepening the further down the page he read,
until he came to the true context of those two small words.
The bellow he sent forth was nearly an exact match for the one heard in Rivendell.
***
The Fellowship had decided to move a small distance downriver, away from the corpses, to make
camp for the day. The company all needed the respite from being trapped on boats with the Elf
and dwarf, needed time to completely cool their tempers. They would leave in the morning, and
Aragorn hoped to get in at least a true half-day's distance before they stopped.
Even if he had to drug Legolas and Gimli into unconsciousness to do it.
Isildur's heir awoke abruptly from his sleep, stared up at the stars above. A shiver of dread
ran like icewater down his spine.
For some reason, he just *knew* that both Elrond and Thranduil somehow *knew* of his and Legolas'
predicament.
He looked over to the Elf, was startled to see him lying there, apparently also startled awake.
Sharp green eyes, full of reflected starlight, met with his own. In them, he could see the same
distress *he* felt.
"They know," Legolas said quietly, soft enough even the Ranger's keen ears had to strain to hear
the words, "don't they?"
Aragorn nodded slightly. "I think so. But how?"
Legolas said only a single word.
"Galadriel."
TBC...
What did you think? Click the button down there and let me know! ;o) Plotbunnies *love* reading
reviews!
by SkyFire
For disclaimer, see part 1.
Thanks to everybody for the great reviews last chapter! Hopefully, the plotbunnies will decide to
bite sooner for the next chapter! Reviews help! ;)
*****
Through the Dark
by SkyFire
Part 10
Four days later, the company was no further down the Anduin than a single day's journey would
have gotten them had Legolas and Gimli been their usual selves. Gimli still suffered from the
motion-sickness. The Elf was still easily tired and often asleep. When he wasn't, he had become
somewhat irritable and snappish, and very sensitive about his condition. The rest of the
Fellowship suffered as well, because of the two. They had found that the sounds of a sick dwarf
were even *worse* than that of a sick Elf, and Gimli's loud and constant complaining had almost
everyone gritting their teeth in frustration and often imagining things they could do to him to
get him to be quiet. The only one who did not seem to be bothered was Legolas, but that might
have been because he was asleep most of the time.
"Aragorn!" came Gimli's call as he looked over from where he sat in Boromir's boat. "Surely we
shall stop soon?" He was going to say more, but just then the sickness claimed him again.
Aragorn sighed in frustration. They had gone barely an hour's journey, and already the dwarf
wanted to stop? At that rate, they'd all be dead of old age before they reached the point where
he'd planned to leave the river!
Then Legolas woke up, sat up in the boat from where he'd lain curled up amongst the baggage.
"Aragorn?" he called. "Are we almost there?"
"No," Aragorn answered with gritted teeth.
"Elf," Gimli growled, "if we were *there*, we would have *stopped* already! Right, Aragorn?"
"Dwarf," came the snapped reply as Elven eyes narrowed with quick, hormone-induced anger. "I was
not asking *you*. Your stomach is whirling enough I don't think you would know we had stopped
even if we *had*! Right, Aragorn?"
"Elf-"
"Enough!" came Aragorn's loud yell. "Both of you! Be silent!!"
The others in the Fellowship stared in shock at the Ranger. He was usually the epitome of
patience; never had they seen him lose his temper in anything other than a fight with the
creatures of the Dark Lord, much less raise his voice.
"Aragorn?" Boromir queried tentatively after a few long moments had passed in shocked silence.
"What?" came the snapped reply.
"Perhaps we should stop for a time, so we can all recall our tempers."
The Ranger was about to argue, but then thought better of it. "Fine. There is a spot just ahead
that looks suitable for a landing. We will stop there. Well enough?" His glare at the others
dared anyone -*anyone*- to disagree. Seeing the nearly-homicidal light in his eyes, no one said
a word as they guided the boats to the shore.
Once there, Aragorn stalked off into the wood to walk off his foul temper. The others set up a
small camp and set watch. Legolas unrolled his bedroll, lay down on it on his stomach and read
more of the book Galadriel had given him. Soon, he was asleep again.
***
Several hours had passed before Aragorn once again returned to the camp, his knuckles
suspiciously bruised and bloodied. He unrolled his bedroll, sat down on it and set about
pulling splinters from his torn knockles.
"What happened?" Boromir asked, gesturing to the Ranger's hands.
"I argued with a tree," came the snapped reply.
Boromir nodded slowly, understanding. He had wanted many times over the past few days to
pulverize something himself. "Who won?" he asked.
"I did."
Boromir stood beside the Ranger for a few moments more, an awkward silence between them. "About
the Elf-"
"Boromir. Leave me be."
With a shrug, Denethor's son turned and went to join the others near the fire where the hobbits
were cooking a meal.
As it happened, Aragorn's bedroll lay not far from Legolas'. And so it was that when the Elf
awoke, it was to see Aragorn sitting nearby. He mistook it for the Ranger keeping watch over him
from concern, and not the seething mood it was. So Legolas thought it safe to voice the thing
that was bothering him, scraping against his nerves, squirming uncomfortably beneath his skin
with every breath he took.
"Aragorn?" he called, stretching. "Could you get me some carrots? And some chocolate? No, no,
wait. Chocolate-covered carrots." He saw the Ranger's back stiffen, but shrugged it off as
startlement over his sudden speech. "Or perhaps some-"
"No."
"-and cherries, and-" Legolas blinked at the hissed word. "What? Aragorn?"
Aragorn slowly turned, spoke with teeth gritted tightly together. "I. Said. No."
The Elf blinked again. "What? But, Aragorn, I *need* them-"
"No."
"But-"
"No."
Legolas frowned. "But it's for me. For the baby. And I wouldn't be like this if it wasn't for
you!"
Unnoticed by either of the two, the rest of the Fellowship had gathered to watch the argument.
"Oh, don't try that!" Aragorn said, crossing his arms over his chest. "It isn't going to work."
"This is your fault, now get out there and get. Me. My. Carrots!"
"*My* fault? *My* fault? You weren't exactly unwilling, Greenleaf!"
Both Elf and Ranger had gotten up from their beds, now stood face to face, arms gesturing wildly
as they yelled, faces flushed with anger.
"And *you* aren't the one that got pregnant! Where is your sense of honor, of duty, of sympathy?
What about *my* needs?"
Aragorn ground his teeth together hard enough everyone could hear them. He had just opened his
mouth to reply when a group of perhaps thirty orcs and Saruman's Uruk-hai charged out of the wood
at them.
Distracted by the argument, the rest of the Fellowship had forgotten to keep the watch.
Legolas turned to face the interruption, eyes blazing.
Orcs and Uruk-hai alike skidded to a stop at the sight, a bit taken aback by the Elf's angry
glare. Also, having been created long ago by the first Dark Lord to be twisted mockeries of
Elves, the orcs were able to sense that something was not quite right about this particular Elf.
Legolas glared even harder when he recognized the dark and twisted forms. He started to reach
for his bow, but then changed his mind and took up his long knives instead. He felt the deep
need to release a lot of purely physical anger and frustration, the driving *need* to hack
*something* -or someone- to bits.
The orcs and orc-kin were a suitable substitute for Aragorn.
With an Elvish war-cry, Legolas ran full tilt at the evil creatures, knives flashing, golden hair
streaming behind like a banner.
The twisted ones, fear coursing through them, tried to backpedal, tried to flee from the
homicidal Elf, to no avail.
The others of the Fellowship could only stare in amazement as the Elf tore through the ranks,
felling orc after orc after Uruk-hai after Uruk-hai. His knives were slicked with dark blood,
and their brightness was undimmed even by the filth.
Within minutes every single evil creature that had joined in the attack lay dead upon the ground.
Legolas stood among them, chest heaving as he gulped in air, hands and arms and face splattered
with dark blood.
They watched as the Elf looked down at himself, made a face of disgust and headed for the river
to wash.
Aragorn sighed. He'd read in the book that these things could happen; the cravings, the mood
swings. Unfortunately, the book had listed no cure for this but time and emotional support.
Usually, the Dunadan would have given these things without hesetation, but he was distracted by
the Quest, by the rising forces of Sauron, by the probable reactions of their families to the
pregnancy... Since Gandalf's death, he was burning the candle at both ends *and* the middle and
had no support left in him to give to anyone but the ringbearer.
With a sigh, he decided that he should apologise to the Elf anyway, and explain himself. Surely
Legolas would understand, as he had to deal with a great deal of the same stress himself.
He turned just in time to see Merry and Pippin somehow produce a chocolate-covered carrot and
present it to the newly-cleaned Elf.
Legolas took it, eyes gone shiny with tears and took a bite. A blissful smile on his face, he
chewed and swallowed. He smiled at the two hobbits, gratitude in his eyes, then hugged them
tightly. "Thank you!" he said. "It's perfect!" Then he went and flopped down on his bedroll,
ate the rest of the carrot and fell asleep again.
The others stared at each other in bemusement, then shook their heads.
/Pregnant Elves./ Was the thought in many a mind. /Try to figure them./
Before he went to take his place at watch, Aragorn looked to Merry and Pippin. "*Where* did you
get chocolate out here?" he asked. "Or *when* did you get it?"
"Celeborn gave it to me," Merry said. Pippin nodded in support. "He said that I should have
some on hand in case Legolas had the same insane craving as Galadriel did. We're lucky he only
wanted chocolate carrots. She wanted a lot worse."
"And that was..?"
Both hobbits made a face of absolute disgust. "You don't want to know."
Aragorn growled low in his throat, then stalked out of the camp. A tree out there was waiting
for him to pulverize it, he knew it. After that, he had to keep watch.
***
In Rivendell, a messenger from Lothlorien, his letter newly delivered to Elrond, waited patiently
for a reply while the half-Elf read it.
He was nearly deafened by Elrond's outraged bellow scant minutes later, a bellow that echoed down
through the entire valley of Rivendell, startling birds into flight and small animals into abrupt
silence, even as every Elf winced and stared reproachfully in the direction of the shout.
***
Thranduil opened the letter the 'Lorien messenger had just handed him, briefly scanned the header
and ending signature. /Why would the Lady Galadriel send a letter to me?/ he wondered. He
scanned the letter briefly, catching a glimpse of the words 'Legolas' and 'pregnant'.
/Legolas got someone pregnant?/ he thought, frowning in confusion. /Why would Galadriel write me
of this? There has to be more to this than that./
Still frowning, he carefully read the letter, frown deepening the further down the page he read,
until he came to the true context of those two small words.
The bellow he sent forth was nearly an exact match for the one heard in Rivendell.
***
The Fellowship had decided to move a small distance downriver, away from the corpses, to make
camp for the day. The company all needed the respite from being trapped on boats with the Elf
and dwarf, needed time to completely cool their tempers. They would leave in the morning, and
Aragorn hoped to get in at least a true half-day's distance before they stopped.
Even if he had to drug Legolas and Gimli into unconsciousness to do it.
Isildur's heir awoke abruptly from his sleep, stared up at the stars above. A shiver of dread
ran like icewater down his spine.
For some reason, he just *knew* that both Elrond and Thranduil somehow *knew* of his and Legolas'
predicament.
He looked over to the Elf, was startled to see him lying there, apparently also startled awake.
Sharp green eyes, full of reflected starlight, met with his own. In them, he could see the same
distress *he* felt.
"They know," Legolas said quietly, soft enough even the Ranger's keen ears had to strain to hear
the words, "don't they?"
Aragorn nodded slightly. "I think so. But how?"
Legolas said only a single word.
"Galadriel."
TBC...
What did you think? Click the button down there and let me know! ;o) Plotbunnies *love* reading
reviews!