I am so sorry for the delay! My computer crashed and I nearly lost everything, but now all is well. The adventure continues! Thank you for your patience.

Chapter 14 – Helm's Deep, and Paths of the Dead, Dwimorberg.

"Could we not simply…"

"Stay in here?" Legolas let out a long breath where he was impatiently waiting by the door. "No Aragorn, we cannot 'simply stay in here'. I have a mirror to seek out and you have world to save and a destiny to fulfil." When Aragorn did not answer, he continued, barely managing to keep the frustration out of his voice. "You will not conquer the Darkness by staying in a storeroom."

Aragorn checked the lacings on his breeches for the sixth time. All done and ready. Unfortunately.

"Please!" Legolas. Definitely frustrated.

"But–"

"No!"

"You did not know what I was about to say."

Legolas let out another sigh and briefly closed his eyes. "Yes, I did."

"No you did not." Aragorn glowered. "For all you know I could have been meaning to comment on the fine weather we have been having lately."

"We have not been enjoying fine weather, Aragorn. And why in the name of Ilúvatar, would you speak of the weather now?" Legolas' hand landed menacingly on the door knob.

"Wait!"

A third exhalation. "What?"

"Well…"

Aragorn waved a hand loosely in the air, in some obscure and unnamed gesture. "Maybe the sun will come out today?"

"That is it, Aragorn. I am leaving and you are coming with me."

Miserably he watched as the door slid open and revealed the shadowy hallway. He squared his shoulders and tried to chase away his fears. Maybe with some luck, all of his friends (and his brothers, most importantly his brothers) had ridden off to places unknown and he would never see them again?

He was beginning to enjoy that thought in earnest when he stepped into the small sitting room and found that no one had moved an inch.

Happy days.

"Strider!" Merry called out, waving a hand wildly as if they had not seen each other for at least five years and they were meeting in the middle of the fields of Rohan. "Is everything under control?"

Aragorn refused – point blank – to blush.

Merry beamed at him. "Are you still doing that guarding-us-thingy that you are so good at?"

There was a badly stifled grunt-groan-laugh from Gimli's corner. Legolas only smiled and sauntered across the room to sort of drape himself over an armchair, looking all elegant and sated – and leaving Aragorn alone to face his brothers and one still very shocked Éomer.

"So!" he said, attempting to change the subject.

The silence that followed reigned supreme until Elrohir finally broke it. (We are working with logic here, as you can plainly see.)

"Yes, little brother?"

Aragorn shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Éomer was practically staring at him and it was rather stressful. "Is all well?" he queried eventually.

"Formidable," said Elrohir. "How are you doing yourself?"

"Fine," said Aragorn weakly, wondering where to sanity had fled.

"By the sounds of it you are doing more than 'fine', laddie!" grunted Gimli generously from his corner.

"Yes," supplied Merry equally kindly. "There always seem to be a lot of noises coming from Strider when he…"

"Comes?" finished Elrohir with a Grin of Evil.

Gimli erupted with booming laughter, his beard bobbing up and down violently, like a giant Wizard's... well... beard caught in wild weather. Merry nearly fell over in his chair (a hobbit thing to do, really) and Aragorn wondered if Gondor (yes, yes, and Arnor) needed a King after all. Would it not be better if he… hid somewhere? Far away. And never, ever, came back.

He would be lonely, but maybe he could persuade Legolas to come with him (not in that way!) and then they could make as much noise as they chose (alright, yes, in that way).

His cheeks were burning up of course. What else?

Elladan suddenly rose to his feet and throwing an angry glare in Aragorn's direction, walked over to where Legolas was sitting. He lowered himself into a second armchair but before Aragorn had the time to accuse him of going after his Elf, Éomer finally spoke up.

"By Elbereth!" he cried out. (But in a low voice as if he had just had some kind of revelation. Good for him.) "Aragorn, my lord, I beg your pardon!" He was still staring.

Aragorn frowned, as is only proper behaviour in such a moment.

"I should… Oh." Distress was clearly painted across Éomer's face. "I see now that I should not have insisted on you having separate bedchambers!" His eyes were darting to and fro between Aragorn and Legolas at a heedless pace. "But a word on the subject and I would have arranged more fitting accommodations!"

Shrugging, Aragorn mumbled something. (Not sure if that is proper behaviour, though.)

Realising this, he added, "I am sorry?" It could not be healthy to be so upset; the Marshal's breathing was rapid.

"Do not trouble yourself, friend Éomer," said Legolas calmly from his chair. "In the end we were quite comfortable, I daresay." He winked at Aragorn.

Elrohir snorted. "That I do not doubt!"

Legolas smiled at him innocently.

Elladan shifted in his seat. Aragorn glared at him.

(He glared back.)

"Ah, Strider…" Merry was looking at him fondly. "'Tis good to know that Legolas is looking after you."

Aragorn meant to protest but in that moment they were joined by Halbarad who lit up immediately.

"Here you all are!" he said contentedly. "I was beginning to wonder if something was amiss, for when I passed through the hallway only a moment ago – this place is enormous – I heard some strange noises from one of the smaller rooms. When I checked it now though, all was in order."

"Pray tell," said Elrohir, fixing him with his grey eyes. "Of which room do you speak, Halbarad?"

The Dúnadan shrugged. "As I said, nothing to worry about. A small storeroom it was, only some feet away. For a split second, I thought it harboured a wild boar."

Merry let out an insane giggle but then schooled his features into a mask of seriousness. "One never knows," he said thoughtfully, "but for my part I think it was a balrog."

Enough!

"We take the Paths of the Dead!" shouted Aragorn.

– xxx –

"Love… are you sure it is this way?"

Aragorn turned to Legolas with a frown (a new one). "Yes."

The Elf surveyed the anonymous Dark Door without much interest. "It does not say so, you know."

"So if you were a Door of the Dead, you would wear a sign saying 'I am the Door of the Dead'?"

Legolas looked at him as if he had gone insane. "No, Aragorn I would not. I am not a door."

"I know that!"

"Then why are you sounding as if you would like me to be one?"

Aragorn stared at him in disbelief. "I do not!"

Legolas' eyes narrowed. "You are imagining it."

"No! I am simply saying that a Door of the Dead must not by rule exhibit its… nature." Aragorn shrugged one shoulder, trying to look as if he stood in front of Dark Doors of Doom all the time.

"And this you know because..?"

"'Tis obvious! Look at it! Its true identity is hidden." Aragorn pointedly… pointed at the door.

"So how do you know that this is the right one?" Legolas raised his eyebrows challengingly.

"How many Doors of the Dead can there be?"

Excruciatingly slowly, Legolas spoke, emphasising every syllable. "I do not know, Aragorn. As I have already told you, I am this door's kin and – I hope – not kin to any other door you might like to visit before we reach Minas Tirith."

"I do not mean to visit any other doors," said Aragorn, admittedly tired of this. "I am perfectly happy with you and this one."

"You are 'happy with me and this one, and do not mean to visit any other doors'?"

"Right," said Aragorn, confriming this.

"In other words you are comparing me to a door."

"I do no–!

...

Damn.

...

"Look," said Aragorn, painfully aware of the fact that there was not much else to see but the Door. (Which did not help.) "We should go inside."

He turned to Legolas meaning to silently plead a little, but found he did not need to. The Elf was smiling at him blissfully.

"Oh, Aragorn, it has been far too long since we had an intelligent discussion!"

"You are only happy because you won..." muttered Aragorn.

Legolas clicked his tongue. "Not everything is a competition, lover... But, yes, a little happy."

There is only one way to make Elves shut up after all, and Aragorn simply went for it.

It was a nice kiss. Very nice in fact. Legolas' tongue tip was tracing the curves of Aragorn's upper lip and he greedily leaned closer, his hands automatically flying up to tangle in soft, blond hair. Legolas let out a tiny whimper which sent a rush of heat through Aragorn. He was more than ready to abandon every Door in Arda in this moment but then:

'Thump!'

"Wha–"

'Smack!'

"Ouch!"

Angry like never before (alright, that was not true, but it could have been) Aragorn tore himself away from Legolas, fiercely rubbing his shoulder where the sharp stone had hit him. "What is–"

Oh.

He was pretty sure every Ranger (and horse) he had ever met was standing behind them, more or less (probably less) patiently waiting for the kiss to end. And they were staring. Éomer must have taught them how to do it so well befor ethey parted. On top of this, casually leaning against a boulder was Elrohir idly playing with a handful of small stones.

He looked up innocently. "It fell."

"Five feet into the air to strike my shoulder?" queried Aragorn sourly.

"Stranger things have happened," said Elrohir nonchalantly.

Beside him, Legolas shifted. "A known trick to spur you into action," he purred in a low voice. "I like that."

"Hrm," said Aragorn uncomfortably, more because his breeches were naturally tight and would not allow any additional swelling of intimate parts, and less because of the staring still carried out by the Ranger Company.

"So what do you say, little brother?" Elrohir dropped the stones to the ground and adjusted his quiver. "Ready to enter the caves?"

Well, it had to be done.

"Yes..." Aragorn nodded. "The King of the Dead has a debt to pay to the heir of the Winged Crown and we should get it over with."

That was when Gimli pressed forward and boomed. "I am telling you all: if that King harms this heir, he is dead!"

Right.

– xxx –

As it turned out, it was the Dwarf who was most reluctant to tread this path. The Elves feared not the ghosts of Men, even if the surrounding darkness was hard for them to bear. The horses were uneasy and few soothing words would calm them down. Aragorn lead the way, carrying a torch he had brought with him from Théoden's halls, followed by Legolas who probably stayed closer to him than necessary, but Aragorn found no reason to complain. Elladan went at the rear with Gimli stumbling behind.

They were left in relative peace in the dark; nothing assailed them as they cautiously walked onward. But Aragorn felt the fear that lingered in the shadows and experimentally reached out to finger his form. It was not welcome, and far less enticing than Legolas' hand that soon slipped into his own free one.

"This place is not to my liking," his lover hissed as they nearly tripped over a heap of bones looking very much like the sorry remains of a Man. "Please tell me that when you have persuaded the dead King to fight alongside us, you will not ask for his abode in the process?"

Aragorn heard the dull sound of someone behind him stumbling and he shook his head as vigorously as he dared to in case he should lose his balance. "No risk."

"Good." Legolas grumbled as he had to let go of Aragorn when the trail narrowed. "So when do you summon them?"

Anytime? Tomorrow? Some other unspecified day?

Aragorn carefully picked his way forward, holding his torch aloft. "What do you say about right now?"

"Sounds good to me."

They came to a halt and consequently so did the Rangers. (There was some additional stumbling and swearing at the rear as the unexpected halt caused some inelegant commotion.)

Aragorn looked around. Outside the circle of light, he could barely make out his brothers and Halbarad. They all looked grim. This was not a time for jest, obviously.

Legolas stepped up closer and slid an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss into his neck. "Go on, love. The sooner the better, you know."

True. Okay.

Legolas chuckled low. "Go for some of that drama."

So here goes. Summoning time.

"Dwellers of this place! I am Elessar, Isildur's heir of Gondor! (Legolas hummed contentedly.) I go to Pelargir upon Anduin, and ye shall come after me. Keep your secrets hidden in the Accursed Years, speed only we ask! Let us pass, and then come! When all this land is clean of the servants of Sauron, ye shall have peace and depart forever. I summon you!"

Silence.

Utter and complete silence.

Then a chill blast swept through the caves and the torches went out and could not be rekindled. Drawing a long breath, Aragorn grabbed hold on Legolas' hand and together they began moving once more. Walking as silently as only Rangers can, the Company followed them. (Gimli tried his best.)

Many long hours passed in the darkness; no mortal or immortal soul could have counted them. After a while the path widened and they mounted again. It was sometime later that Legolas looked back and then slowly spoke in a voice that held certainty, but numbly fell off the walls without even the hint of an echo.

"The Dead are following. I see shapes of Men and horses, and pale banners like shreds of cloud, and spears like winter-thickets on a misty night."

Aragorn glanced over at him and reached out for a hand to hold.

Behind them, Elladan raised his voice for the first time that night. "Yes, the Dead ride behind. They have been summoned."

The roof suddenly opened up above them and the bleak light of stars coloured Legolas' already pale features as he turned to Aragorn with a weak smile.

"Guess the drama worked, love."

Always something.

tbc

Note: Again I've taken some liberties. The film deals with this scene very differently (in the book, this is the chapter called 'The Passing of the Grey Company') but we are still staying closer to the books.