Disclaimer: Nothing is or ever will be mine, and no profit is being made….and Rem interjects that she belongs to herself.
'I can't protect you
Without holding a sword
I can't embrace you
While holding a sword'
~Tite Kubo
Sweat, caked with the filth of dried earth, mingled with the fresh red liquid dribbling from where the arrow had pierced her. While Rem had managed to wring her hands out of the painfully tight ropes, her wrists were bruised and kissed with angry welts for the effort. Her eyes burned, too dry to really shed any more tears.
Hours had passed since she had first fallen into the blackness of an unnatural sleep, and the battle cries amid crashing steel had long since ceased. Coupled with the agony of the arrow embedded in her flesh, the drug made her fall in and out of consciousness. When she awoke to total silence, she had cried out in frustration and even hunger. I'm so stupid! So fucking stupid…I—I can't believe I'm this weak…When nothing but wretched hiccoughs escaped her dry throat, she calmed down, evening her breath. Tears had dried; no doubt leaving dirty streaks down her face. As the sunlight slanted through the trees that bespoke of early afternoon, she came to a concrete decision.
There was no guarantee that she would be found, let alone by whom she wanted... Stormy blue eyes crossed her mind at this thought, and a dull throb pulsed inside of her heart. But she mentally shook off the strange yearning. Get a hold of yourself…they—they might not come…Brushing aside the cobwebbed residue the green substance had left inside her thoughts, she scrabbled through the pocket at her skirt, gritting her teeth at the movement.
Oh, thank god! For whatever reason, fate had not allowed her to crush the small vial of medicine procured from the generous Lady of The Galadhrim. Pulling it out, she clasped it to her chest, and grabbed an un-ruined, hearty portion of her elvish cloak. Shoving as much as she could into her mouth, she bit into it as she gingerly touched the arrow.
She winced, hissing and swallowing a whimper at the violent twinge it caused in her left shoulder. I was lucky…She told herself, carefully aligning her fingers into a firmer grip, trying not to jostle it unnecessarily. My clothing stopped it from going too far…it could have been worse. Much worse—She braced herself, then wrenched out the arrow.
The scream that almost escaped her mouth was muffled by her biting down into the thick cloth of her cloak. She had little doubt that her teeth might have cracked had she not locked her jaw into the fabric. Tears she hadn't thought she had the strength to cry leaked out past her eyes, dripping out into a few grubby beads.
The initial tearing sensation began to wane, although it still hurt unbearably. Numbly, Rem fumbled with the medicine, twisting off the cap. However, the muck covering her hands kept her from easily accomplishing just that. She floundered with it miserably, her shoulder burning as fresh blood slicked across her grimy skin. Shit…can't I do any fucking thing right…?
Rem almost cried out in relief as she managed to pry off the cap. Hardly preparing herself for the inevitably bitter taste, she didn't hesitate before pouring it into her mouth and swallowing it down. She cringed at the sour flavor, and sniffed at the vial suspiciously. It…it probably won't work immediately. I should just…lie here, until someone comes.
The thick smoke emitting from the charcoal of dead corpses burning further away would no doubt attract attention. She wasn't yet positive what kind, at least until Gimli and the others came. Until then, she ought to keep a low profile and allow the medicine to do its work. Stormy eyes in a passionate visage crossed her mind briefly once more, and she closed her eyes in silent objection. Cringing, she moved her right arm until the hand was giving slight pressure to her left shoulder. The pain lessoned some, and she continued to press down harder in order to slow the creeping flow of blood from the wound.
The arrow lay before her, glittering ominously in the daylight, slickly dyed red by her own fluid; a reminder to the pandemonium of battle. At least…Merry and Pippin should be all right.
"Fine," she croaked aloud to reassure herself, "They'll be fine..." They'll have met Treebeard by now…
He hardly noticed it at first; in fact, he mistook the sound of hooves galloping across stone and grass as thundering rolling in the distance. Still, he recognized it before his two companions, if only just. What looked like no more than a shadow to the eyes of an ordinary man moved across the land. Yet Legolas could count each bristling spear carried by the approaching riders astride horses.
Reacting hastily, Aragorn bid them through gesticulation to take cover in the amassing boulders cropping along the hill's peek. They had to wait but the breath of a moment before the small army surmounted the crest of yellowing green and began to pass. Legolas held his tongue, as did Gimli, as Aragorn arose from his crouch and took matters into his own hands.
"Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?" threading their way grimly from the great rocks, they found themselves surrounded by a tight knot of the suddenly encircling warriors. The maneuver tightened around them, and Legolas grasped his bow tensely; Gimli's grip did not falter upon his axe. A forest of lethally tipped spears hedged in on them, making them cautious of its potential threat.
"What business does an Elf, a man and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark?" The brash tone of voice emerged from the lowering circle of spears, and a man younger than Aragorn came to their attention with a steely brown in his eye. "Speak quickly!"
"Give me your name, Horsemaster, and I shall give you mine." Gimli returned pleasantly. Despite the grim seriousness of the situation, Legolas had to fight back a smile. It didn't escape his notice that Aragorn looked a bit exasperated. The young man, however, looked less than amused. Abruptly, he pushed his shaft to another rider, and dismounted from his steed, helmet sparkling in the sunlight. The ranger, a bit put out it would seem, put his hand to Gimli's proud shoulder as though to deter him from making any other implicating remarks.
"I would cut off your head, Dwarf," he bit out darkly, "if it stood but a little higher from the ground." Rage, and something altogether protective, flared inside of Legolas. Barely aware of his own movements, impulse and frustration drove him quick as lightening to load and match his arrow-laden bow to the man's face before he had a chance yet to breathe.
"You would die before your stroke fell!" Lowered spears snapped upward toward their throats and vulnerable flesh once more at the threatening gesture. But within a heartbeat, Aragorn hastily rescued the situation by forcefully lowering Legolas' well-aimed bow. Common sense flooded though his veins once more, and he followed through on the well-meaning action. Yet no small amount of resentment continued to burn within him.
True, he hardly knew Gimli. He himself had verbally spared with the Dwarf using barbed, distasteful words. But that didn't mean he hadn't grown to trust, and even like, Gimli. Still, the unspoken truth that revealed the growing fondness he had for his companion by his own actions still obviously surprised the Dwarf. Especially judging by Gimli's facial expression just now. It even surprised himself.
He couldn't bring himself to regret his actions. Nor deny that he felt an arising kinship with him. He could blame Rem; while she had not sparked their kindling friendship, trust was being earned by initially caring for the same person. A person…a woman, that was meant to be in their care. He ignored the odd looks he supposed that he had gained, choosing instead to focus un-wasted effort upon the haughty silhouette of the young man in front of them.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn." His voice rang out with iron, tempered with a mustering patience. "This is Gimli, son of Glóin and Legolas of the Woodland realm. We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your king." The fierceness previously kindled in the man's eyes burned out as he spoke soberly.
"Théoden no longer recognises friend from foe…" He reached for the helmet as it glinted viciously, and there was a sore woe to his tone, " Not even his own kin." The spears were once again withdrawn as the Rider's leader ventured on warily.
"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning." Something malicious tightened his facial expression as he blatantly sized up Legolas. The Elf felt his own eyes harden in retaliation, blood beginning to boil. "He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets." Gimli bristled, taking in the implicated accusation.
"We are no spies." Aragorn interrupted, drawing back the man's focus, "We track a party of uruk-hai westward across the plain. They've taken three of our friends captive." There was a pause, and then the young man spoke again.
"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."
"But there were two Hobbits!" Gimli roughly bit out, dread apparent by his mannerism, "And a girl! Did you see her or the two Hobbits with them?"
"The Hobbits would be small – only children to your eyes." Aragorn put more calmly.
"The woman had dark hair." Legolas interrupted, the velvet of his tone masking his own apprehension and fear, "Eyes to match. All three of them clothed like us with the Elvish cloaks of my kin." The man seemed to weigh his words carefully before he spoke next.
"…We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them." Whispering tendrils of smoke were pointed to in the distance, and Legolas felt his stomach clench at the sight of it.
"Dead?" Disbelief was palpable on Gimli's face. Legolas, too, refused to believe. His eyes ran downward, running over the lowering spiral of smoke where it dwindled from the dark hulking trees surrounding it. Grief gnawed at him, and his questing hand numbly clapped itself upon Gimli's shoulder. Thoughts inside him were racing, blurring into a torrent of refusal. Rem was fine…Merry and Pippin were…They were…All three of them. This was ridiculous. He just couldn't accept this. This was a mistake. This had to be some mistake. A dull ache settled into the hollow of his throat, and his head began to hurt. The painful beat of his heart felt empty inside his chest.
"I am sorry." His cobalt eyes ascended to the young lord once more as the man in question whistled.
"Hasufel! Arod!" Two horses were brought forth, and without question handed over their reins to Aragorn.
"…May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters. Farewell." Without looking back, his footsteps heavy, he replaced his helmet and remounted his stead.
Look for your friends. But do not trust to hope, it has forsaken these lands." A bitter expression crossed his features, and he turned. "We ride north!" He bellowed, and with the sound of earth being ripped up by horses around them, the dismissing Riders galloped away. Legolas didn't bother to look after them…his eyes returned once more to the silvery smoke indicating where Rem and the Hobbits could very well lay. Ice had replaced his veins. Automatically, he aided Gimli and then he himself mounted Arod. This was…Entirely implausible...
The smell of the burning carcasses was something to behold. Gimli coughed when the scent first ascended his nostrils, and Legolas would admit that the grimace on his face was not entirely borne of worry. Dismounting, the Dwarf was the first to bravely churn about some of the acrid remains with his axe, determined to find some sort of clue.
Something undeniably elven—a sheath carved in a spiral pattern that had once looked golden in sunlight, was pulled away with it's leather chewed by damage. Legolas felt his throat tighten at the sight as Gimli murmured unnecessarily.
"It's one of their wee belts."
Legolas bit his tongue, fearing that if he did not he might erupt in a guttural scream. This wasn't happening…This couldn't happen. Already, his sharp eyes were looking at everything as stalked further from the pyre, desperately seeking what he could not accept was missing. He stumbled and missed a step, whirling around at the sound of Aragorn, giving voice to what he himself abstained. The shattering sound of a worn and battered helmet testified to its being kicked forcefully across what had once been the Uruk-hai encampment, before the ranger agonizingly fell to his knees.
Concern broke out for his friend, and he hastily trundled back toward them; Fangorn at his back. The calm expression upon Aragorn's face worried him far more than any other. It was more dangerous at a glance than any helpless frustration brewing within them all could ever hope to achieve in a look.
"We failed them…" Gimli's voice was rough with emotion.
"…Not…yet." It was spoken no louder than the hint of a whisper, but Legolas heard it nonetheless. With rapt attention, he instantly focused on the ravaged brush skirting the edge of the forest. Granted, it was less tangled and overgrown than any other wood that opened against a glade. But the dead limbs and decaying branches of Fangorn's trees offered some shelter from prying eyes at least. A movement, a slight twinge of the yellowed grass and black underbrush moving against the wind had him leaping toward it.
Suddenly aware of their companion's behavior, Gimli and Aragorn rushed after him, the latter more sedate and with caution. Sharp Elvish eyes took in the scene first. A body…no, a young woman laying on her stomach; caked with what looked like earth and dried sweat. What with her habit of frequent bathing, he had never seen her as thus. On some level, it shook him. She smiled weakly up at him, peeking up through the tangles of her dirty hair.
"…What took you guys so long?..." He could scarcely find his voice.
"Rem…!" She closed her eyes at the sound, speaking so softly he hardly was able to make sense of the words.
"Yup…that's my name…don't wear it out…" She opened her eyes once more, a pained expression threading over her features as she tried to sit up. Without thinking, Legolas hurried to aid her. His haste, however, was badly received. She cried out at the quick movement, biting her lip at the last second to stifle herself.
It was then he fully noticed the extent of her injuries, and that not all of the dark stains upon her hair, clothes, and skin were dirt alone. There was blood…dried nearly black due to its age and grimy coating. It did not escape his notice that an arrow, suspiciously stained crimson at its head, lay close to her hand.
Heart pounding, he began checking her over; gently running his hands over her body to better assess her injuries. She winced, a tinge of panic coloring her hoarse voice at his close proximity.
"…Wha—hey, no frisking…!" He ignored her. Weakly, she tried to wriggle away from his cloistering scrutiny. Having none of that, he grasped her right wrist gingerly, holding it before his face so that their eyes met. His eyes burned into her own watery brown , and she wilted, wordlessly consenting to his inspection. He went back to what he was doing, anxiety tearing at his fraying nerves over the fact that Rem had hardly put up a fight.
Aragorn knelt beside him, startling the elf from his absorbing concern. Rem eyed him dizzily, wary of the ranger's presence as Legolas continued to probe and stroke.
"Lass—are ye all right?" Gimli continued to breathe heavily from his short sprint, despite his earlier bragging. Her voice sounded worn as she spoke, cracking as though dry.
"I…I was shot last night...In the back..." Legolas' palm came in contact with the back of her head, a pained squeak leaving her lips. The same sound blew past her teeth in a gasp when he gingerly felt her back near her left shoulder.
"You suffered a blow to the head." Aragorn sounded grim when he spoke.
"Oh…yeah…Well, that too…"Legolas almost rolled his eyes at her scatter-brained response. Still…she was alive. She was here…and so he abstained.
"I took some medicine…" She croaked, feebly showing them a small glass vial that lay in the grass. "But I don't think it's working yet…Do you have any water?" Hasitly, Gimli un-strapped a canteen he had been carrying at his side. He thrust it at Aragorn, but Legolas was quicker. He snatched it up, untwisting the lid and brining it gently to Rem's lips as he carefully laid her back to receive the reviving liquid. After a few swallows, he took it away, chiding her gently.
"Drink it slowly or you'll make yourself ill." He brought it back to her mouth, and she followed his instruction. When she had taken enough—or rather, when the canteen seemed nearly empty, she stopped. He set it aside, looking into her chocolate brown orbs to discern whether or not she was able to focus them properly. The sound of Aragorn clearing his voice made him look up, but the ranger's gaze was fast upon the dreary looking girl.
"This medicine…where did you obtain it?" She gestured toward it feebly, exhaustion and relief making her drowsy.
"Lady Galadriel…" Without meaning to, she closed her eyes, sleep taking her. Legolas continued to hold her a moment or two longer than was necessary, thinking quietly. Aragorn arose, speaking softly so as not to wake her.
"A fever is setting in; we ought not move her until it is passed. I'll see to the horses and assess what it is we lack in order to treat her." The Elf nodded, indicating that he had heard him. Feeling the Dwarf's stare, he looked over at him.
Upon matching eyes with his companion, Gimli let out a grunt, sitting down to watch. Had the circumstances been different, Legolas would have smiled at the realization that his comrad was taking it upon himself to chaperon them. Still, this was no time to allow his feelings to wonder over his or even Rem's feelings; let alone those belonging to Gimli. Right now, Rem needed immediate attention.
As motionless as he could, he pulled her more fully into his embrace so that she would be more comfortable before waking. While the fate of Merry and Pippin worried him, as it still probably did Gimli and Aragorn, here and now had to come first. She had to come first; for she was within their reach…
The soft trickle of water permeated her senses; the chuckling sound dully throbbed in the air like birdsong from a nearby fountain. Flowers beyond compare in color and laden with exotic fragrances blossomed across the earth and cloistering cliffs. Rem groaned, dropping her head into her hands in befuddled misery. A soft sound, not unlike a sigh, made her look up. She glowered at him, knowing full well that she was sound asleep. Or passed out. She couldn't exactly remember.
"You know…I'm really starting to fucking hate this place." She groaned in frustration.
"I'm sorry to hear that." She leveled a glare at Lórien, wishing that this whole encounter was over and done with.
"I don't get you! She spat, jumping up from the stone bench, "Why here? Why back in this place? Last time you spoke to me, I was—"
"Ah, but that was then," he responded demurely, coming forward, "and this is now." She stifled an annoyed grunt, clenching and unclenching her fists.
"Yeah, thanks for clearing that up." She hissed, "you're still not making the least bit of sense! Why not try spelling it out for a change?" surprisingly, he tilted his head, as if seriously considering the matter. She held her breath, waiting. He seemed to debate the matter before answering.
"I can see…that you are still unaware of the role you have been cast to play."
Okay. Duh. She kept this seething thought within the constricting bowels of her mind, not wishing to interrupt Lórien if he were—finally—about to let slip something worthwhile.
"You have no inkling then…?" She thought she might strangle something.
"No," she grit out as calmly as she was able, "I don't. you just keep alluding to the number nine, and how my birthday adds up to it…" A sudden thought occurred to her, "look, if this has anything to do with my being the ninth walker of the fellowship, you're mistaken. I'm actually the tenth…" she trailed off, coming to the attention that he was shaking his head.
"In your world…was there never talk of numbers and letters?" Judging by his even, quiet tone, Rem had the feeling he was taking great pains to spell this out. Apparently, he thought she was rather dull. Fuck if she cared though. So long as she finally gasped the point of whatever the hell he was talking about. Abstaining from letting out a frustrated sigh, she raked her brain.
Number and letters…numbers and letters…numb—H-hey, wait a minute…She locked eyes with Lórien, hesitating.
"I think...well, maybe..." He nodded, gesturing for her to elaborate. She did so, feeling odd as she did.
"There was this guy….a long time ago. I think he was Greek—uh, a type of ethnicity. And he was a part of this religious cult. They—he and his followers, believed that numbers and music were the key to the universe….and aside from the Pythagorean Theorem, Pythagoras devised a way of matching personalities with names by graphing numbers and letters…" she trailed off, a wave of stupidity trampling over her other emotions. This was dumb, there was no way—
" That is a start, little one."
"…!..."
"Your name," he continued, ignoring the surprised look on her face, "by that sequence, adds up to the number nine." She stared at him, blustering.
"But—how can…I mean, that's only with the Roman alphabet! I've been speaking the Common Tongue since I—"
"Things never differ far from their origin, Lady Rem. Knowledge may wane, at times, but not entirely fade." She failed at biting back a sigh, giving him a more sullen look.
"…Please don't call me 'lady'…" He continued as if he had never been interrupted, although he did take care in abstaining from calling her that again.
"You are the nine, Rem. In fate through birth and by your name. All you have left now is to better understand and embrace the meaning—"
"…we shouldn't tell her." All at once, his words began to fade, as did the strange garden; interrupted by others. Familiarity plucking at her subconscious in the rhythm with which they were spoken…Shit! And she had been so close…! It almost made her want to scream…
"Why not? It's enough to make a mead hall proud!" What the hell are they talking about?
"That's not reason enough to humiliate her!" Ah, that last velvet-encrusted voice sounded a bit like Legolas was losing his patience.
"She is awake now." The thick, grandfatherly tone immediately struck her brain, making it stutter. Wait! That's Gandalf's voice!
"Wha…?" She cringed at the sound escaping her mouth. Apparently, drinking the better portion of Gimli's canteen hadn't been enough to remedy her hoarse throat. She cracked her eyes open, noticing that she had immediately become the center of attention once she uttered that single syllable.
"You're awake!" Legolas' visage was fixated on her, making her nervous with his intensity. Aragorn, luckily, came to her rescue.
"Are you feeling well?" She craned her neck upwards, squinting in order to see him in the bright evening light.
"Well…enough…" The tranquil smile blossoming across Legolas' face was enough to gain her attention once more, and they locked eyes. For a fleeting moment, she forgot to breathe.
"…I guess." She finished lamely, ducking her head. "Uh…so what were you guys talking about just now?" her brown eyes arose once again, taking in the sight of Gandalf in white garments of ethereal bearing. "…and, are you all right?" He smiled at her, immediately untwisting the larger knot her stomach had woven itself into. Still, the smaller lump—inspired by the Elf—just wouldn't go away. It didn't escape her notice that the rest of her companions seemed immediately tense at her remark.
Perhaps they had forgotten their earlier dismissal of her as a seer, only for the previous judgment to reappear for their scrutiny. With no small amount of trepidation, Rem thought that she may have given herself away. It now seemed wholly obvious to them now why exactly Saruman had ordered her kidnapping along with the Hobbits.
"I am well, Rem. As you seem to be." Relief began trickling through her veins, and she sat up albeit dizzily. Still, at least now there was no nausea at the movement, even if her head felt a little fuzzy. Legolas was immediately at her side, assisting her. She refused to look at him full in the face, nervous for some inexplicable reason.
"So…what were you talking about…?" There was a beat or two of silence.
"You threw up on him, lass," Gimli put bluntly, gesturing toward the Prince of Mirkwood. Her face paled, feeling cold, before embarrassment burned it red in a rush of heat. She blanched as Gimli elaborated, and Legolas notably stiffened as the Dwarf went into detail.
"Kept tossing and turning in your sleep. And when he was tryin' to get ye to take some stew last night, you—"
"Enough, Gimli." Aragorn didn't sound angry in the least, but he looked very near the verge of a headache or such as he massaged the back of his neck, refusing to look at Rem. In fact, only Gandalf still retained his pleasant expression as everyone else strove not to make eye contact.
"I…uh….Sorry," Rem squeaked, blanching. However, the sound of a smile in the Elf's voice had her bravely meeting his azure eyes once more.
"It's a small price to pay…to have you back." Tentatively, she returned his smile.
"Strange though…is it not?" The both of them looked over at Aragorn, who had spoken.
"What's that?" Gimli grunted.
"That the medicine given to Rem by Lady Galadriel would have no effect…" Rem shrugged unhelpfully, unconsciously seeking Legolas' hand with her own. She felt immediately warm as, after subtly brushing his hand, he threaded his fingers between her own.
"Maybe it expired…?" She suggested. Gandalf held up the vial, taking it from his robes where he must have stowed it. He looked at it reflectively, before handing it to Aragorn. Though she could have been imagining it, she could have sworn the white wizard was fighting back a smile. Almost as if he knew something…
Aragorn inspected it reflectively, sniffing it and rolling it between his fingers. Surprise was evident on his features as he regarded Rem.
"Did she remark on what type of medicine it was that she gave you?..." She stared at him, a small bit of dread building up in her stomach at the look on his face. Was something wrong?
"Um…No. She just said that she hoped I wouldn't have to use it, but with such a long journey ahead…she feared that I would…" he shook head, almost in wonder.
"We believe that this is a different medicine from what you believed altogether." Gandalf put gently. She blinked, still not quite hitting home.
"What do you mean, exactly?" she ventured, squeezing Legolas' hand for comfort. She felt immediately nervous and exhilarated to a small degree that he squeezed back.
"It is what a woman takes to keep from conceiving." Aragorn replied quietly. The color immediately drained from Rems face at the announcement.
"She gave me birth control?!" She shrieked. She tried snatching her hand away from Legolas' as quickly as though she were in danger from getting burned, fuming. However, he would not relinquish his grip…not at first at any rate. She crossed her arms under her chest, embarrassment and anger warring within her, with the latter making more of a blatant appearance. "What the hell was she implying?!" She couldn't look at Legolas; she just wouldn't. This was far worse than throwing up all over him…Galadriel had thought—she knew….!
HOW?!
She wished the ground would open up beneath her and swallow her whole.
"Rem, how much did you take?" Legolas' soothing voice brushed over her ears, making her blush one shade darker.
"All of it!" She snapped, not missing the fact that Gimli's eyebrows shot up at the exclamation. The Dwarf shook his head, muttering to himself.
"…Gods couldn't get you pregnant for the next six months." She heard him.
"I didn't know they were trying!" She snapped back.
"Rem…" She glanced over at Legolas, biting her lip in regret. "You need to calm yourself." Worry was evident there…but so was something else. Something which until very recently escaped her notice up until now. it was there, just beneath the surface. Waiting…lurking patiently… She dropped her gaze, the intensity of his stare burning worse than her embarrassment.
"I think I'm going to be sick, again." She muttered lamely.
A/N: I would like to note that the part about Pythagoras is true.
What they don't tell you in math class is that he was indeed a religious cult leader that devised the system of numerology, among other things. Interesting, huh?
To give you a better idea of where I'm going with this, google 'numerology' online to see what I'm getting at.
I took care in choosing Rem's number for where I'm going with this story. Another hint is that it has absolutely nothing to do with her saving Middle Earth and all that cliché Mary-Sue goodness. She's not 'saving' shit.
THANKS TO ALL WHO"VE REVIEWED! And hugs to those who've put this story on their 'favorites' list ^_^ Please continue to read and review—and I'll continue to update!