A Sea of Troubles

by Nili

Returning from the East, Aragorn and Legolas hope to get some peace at last. With one of Rivendell’s delegations missing and war looming on the horizon, however, peace becomes ever more unlikely as they must fight for their friends’ lives – and their own.

25. The Great Escape

Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.

A/N:

Well, it would seem that I was right. I just KNEW that the stupid phone company wouldn't reconnect me the day they said they would. I am beginning to suspect that they have a secret alliance with FF-net and are trying to drive me mad. They're too late, though - I already am. •readers are silent• You know, that was your cue to protest. •readers remain silent• You people are no fun at all...

Anyway, I'm back. Only via an ISDN connection (Gosh, I DO miss my DSL!), but it's better than nothing, I guess. Oh, and I'm not in Spain at the moment. If I were, I wouldn't be writing this, namely because I wouldn't have any time at all and also because I would already have got lost on the way from my flat to the university. Besides, you seem to underestimate our (and the Spanish) bureaucracy. I am still trying to fill in all the forms I need (half of which I can't possibly fill in right now, but nobody cares about trivialities like that), and am quite glad I won't be leaving till September. I would never make it in time otherwise. •g•

Still, I would like to apologise for keeping you guys waiting for so long. I didn't do it out of malice (well, my alter ego might have •g•), it's just that people around here don't believe in free internet access in libraries. Would be too easy, wouldn't it? And finding a free internet computer at my university can be ... daunting. Most of the time, it also involves small scuffles, life-long grudges and the occasional broken finger bone. •g•

Be that as it may, here's the next chapter, in which Aragorn and Legolas escape (kind of, that is), Gasur, Acalith, Salir and Reod have a little discussion and essentially come to the conclusion that they all hate each other, and Aragorn once again does something incredibly ... stupid. Which, of course, leads to a small cliffy. So, same old, same old, eh? Oh, and yes, the chapter title IS meant ironically. •g•

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Chapter 24

Dawn was slowly beginning to creep over the horizon, not yet more than a faint, pinkish glow that was appearing in the East. It was hardly visible because of the thick, grey clouds that were covering the heavens, but if one stared really, really hard at the sky for a prolonged amount of time, one could see the wispy beams of sunlight.

Right now, however, neither of the two beings that were moving through the streets of Donrag had the time to stop and do anything for a prolonged amount of time, least of all stare at the sky. They were, in fact, walking as fast as their wounded bodies would allow, all the while casting quick looks about them, looking for anything or anyone that might see them and give away their position.

No matter how quickly they were moving, they were obviously not fast enough, Aragorn thought darkly, surprising himself by the amount of cynicism that coloured his thoughts. No, the sun wasn't rising yet and the streets were still as dark as night, but dawn had arrived. It wouldn't be long now before the people of this town left their houses to attend to their daily business – and once that happened, they were finished. There was absolutely no way anyone could or would overlook them, not in the condition they were in and not even if no one back at the manor noticed their escape and alerted the whole town.

'Ah, whom am I trying to kid?' the young man asked himself self-deprecatingly. Of course someone would notice their escape. Gasur, or whatever the 'Fox' was calling himself nowadays, might be many things, but he was not incompetent. There would be a changing of the guards this morning, he knew it as certain as he knew that water was wet. As soon as that happened, their escape would be discovered, and as soon as that happened, they would be in real trouble.

No, he corrected himself almost instantly, they already were in real trouble. The ranger gave the elf he was holding upright a look that was just long enough to take in the pale features and the cold sweat that beaded his forehead. Legolas wasn't too aware of what was going on around him, which didn't surprise him in the slightest. The wound he had received was deep and no doubt very painful, and the severe blood loss on top of his previous injuries was proving to be too much even for an elven constitution.

Aragorn's dark expression became even darker, and he hurried his steps, dragging his elven friend with him around a corner. He couldn't stop, not now, but he knew that he would have to in half an hour at the latest, or he would have to carry Legolas. He knew from experience that an elven body could survive and endure much more than, for example, a human one, but he was also a healer and had a working pair of eyes in his head. He knew that it was only a matter of time before his friend would lose consciousness, and if he was perfectly honest, he wasn't sure if he would be able to carry him. Helping him walk was beginning to take most of the strength he had still left, and even though he knew that elves weighted little, he doubted that he would be able to carry him.

He thought about stopping for a moment while he carefully peered down the next alleyway, feeling his lungs burn with the need for additional oxygen, but quickly decided against it. If he stopped now, he wouldn't be able to get up until Gasur and his merry men appeared to take them back to the cellars. His lungs, however, weren't the only part of him that was burning. A sneaky and thoroughly deranged man appeared to have exchanged his shoulder joints – which had served him quite well until now, mind you – for ones made out of hot metal, and his head had seen better days, too. He didn't even contemplate the condition of his right wrist. There were things he'd rather not think about, thank you very much.

Ignoring his body's complaints as well as he could, Aragorn tightened his grip on his friend and began to move again, into the direction of the town wall. Well, at least he thought that it was the direction of the town wall – he wasn't all that certain about it. Since Legolas was fully occupied with not passing out, the only memories he could rely on were his own, which were rather sketchy at best. When they had been brought here, his head had been ringing from the blow he had received and the overwhelming worry and fear for Elrohir and Isál that had filled him then, which hadn't really been conducive to his concentration. The fact that his head was doing little better now wasn't helping matters either.

How he had managed to get the two of them out of the courtyard, he did not really know, nor did he think he would ever figure it out. Even though it couldn't have been much more than half an hour ago, he couldn't remember much except the very powerful, very urgent feeling of having to get away, as fast as possible.

There hadn't been too many guards in the yard, and the attention of those who had been on duty had apparently been focussed on keeping people out of the compound, and not in it. Aragorn wasn't really sure whether that meant that not all of Donrag's inhabitants were actually supporting Lady Acalith or that the guards were simply stupid, but he wasn't complaining. If the men had been a little more vigilant and watchful, they would still be stuck on the wrong side of the wall surrounding Acalith's house.

The side of Aragorn that had been trained in fighting and warfare since he was a child shook its head reproachfully. If the guards had been under his command, he would have had their hides for their inattentiveness. He wasn't of the opinion that you had to follow every single rule there was, but some rules were there for a reason. An inattentive, careless guard was worse than useless, because everyone else trusted him to actually do his job.

If he had been their commanding officer, he would have made sure that they watched even the smallest gate, especially the kind they had used to leave Acalith's oh-so-hospitable house. No, he corrected himself a moment later, he wouldn't have done that, because he would never have allowed them to join his unit. He had a few principles about things like these, and one of them was never to entrust a moron with the intelligence of a braindead hill-troll with something he cherished as much as his life.

Be that as it may, he knew that they had been exceedingly lucky until now. They had managed to leave the courtyard without anyone noticing, but it had been a close thing. While he had picked the lock that had been attached to the thick metal beam that kept the gate closed (how exactly he had done that, with his left hand shaking and his broken right one holding Legolas upright, he would never know), one of the guards had passed them, no more than perhaps twenty yards to their left. They had been in the shadow of the wall and rather well-hidden by the side of one of the small towers that protruded from the ramparts, but for a second he had really thought that the other man had seen them.

He hadn't, though, and that had been a good thing, too, because there had been no way he could have killed him before he alerted his comrades. The guard had simply walked past them without even looking in their direction, and after a few seconds he had continued working on the lock. After several eternities, it had opened reluctantly, and a few moments later they had moved over the threshold and into the direction of the nearest alleyway with a speed he hadn't thought possible.

Now, however, their luck was beginning to run out, Aragorn thought, surprised that it was happening now and hadn't happened much sooner. Nothing had gone according to plan until now, after all, and with them having to leave Erestor behind, hiding in the wrong room, almost being killed by a pair of guards and finding out that the stables were too well-guarded to … well, "borrow" a horse, he had expected them to run into a company of soldiers a long time ago. Or maybe into Gasur, or Acalith, or maybe into Lord Girion who had risen from the grave in order not to miss their ultimate demise. The young ranger smiled grimly. At this point, even that wouldn't surprise him overly much anymore.

He was still staring at the newest obstacle that had so kindly jumped into their way when the elf he was more or less holding up stirred slightly and raised his head, apparently realising that they had stopped. A bleary blue eye moved away from the road and fastened on the dark-haired man's face, looking mildly confused.

"Why have we … stopped?"

Aragorn would have liked to laugh, and only the fact that he didn't have the breath or strength to do more than gasp for air stopped him.
"We seem to have run into a little … problem."

That was, in fact, a rather nice way of putting it, he decided inwardly. Since he knew that it had been luck more than anything else that had enabled them to even get out of the courtyard, he had been looking for a smaller town gate that would allow them to escape these obviously mad people as quietly as possible. He had steered them past two larger gates that had been too well-guarded and had finally focussed all his hopes on this one, mainly because he didn't think that they had the time to delay their escape any longer. Every second brought them another step closer to possible re-capture, something he was prepared to avoid by all means necessary.

There was only one problem, of course. This gate was guarded as well, this time by guards who looked – unfortunately – as if they were more intelligent than a group of hill-trolls.

Aragorn realised that his elven friend was still waiting for an answer and jerked his head into the direction of the gate opposite and to the right of them, clearly visible even though there were only two torches lighting the area.
"I do not think that these nice gentlemen will just let us pass," he answered simply.

Legolas' eyes followed the movement of his friend's head, and after several moments he returned his attention to the young man next to him.
"You just might be right about that, Estel."

"I know," the ranger nodded grimly, regretting it almost instantly as the dull pain in his head intensified. "I think we're in trouble."

The corners of the elf's mouth quivered in faint amusement, and if he hadn't been so focussed on not passing out and therefore make everything even harder on his friend, he might even have smiled. Then again, his body hadn't been responding to his mind's orders all that well lately, so he might not be able to actually smile right now.

"It's a little late for that … assessment, don't you … think?"

"Most likely," Aragorn agreed, his eyes sweeping over the scene in front of him, obviously looking for a way around the guards that were vigilantly keeping watch over this part of the alleys. "About five years, I think."

"Ha!" the elf exclaimed softly, narrowing his eyes at his human friend and gathering most of the strength he had still left in order to concentrate on the problem at hand. "Five years!"

He could still feel how small rivulets of fresh blood ran down his arm and side, and the pain was almost bad enough for him to wish that the guard's hand-eye-coordination had been a little better and that he had taken his head off instead of nearly cutting him to pieces. Being dead wouldn't hurt, at least. It would be slightly boring, he suspected, but it wouldn't hurt. He would need to ask Lord Glorfindel about this, he decided fuzzily. He didn't think that the golden-haired elf lord would answer this kind of question, but he could try, couldn't he?

"I never got into this kind of trouble before I met you, Estel," he stated softly, shaking his head firmly to emphasise his point. "Five years ago, I was a happy and carefree elf who never got captured by evil, sadistic megalomaniacs who wanted to kill me, mark my words."

"No," Aragorn shook his head just as firmly while he mentally debated whether they should go on and look for another, more carelessly guarded gate. They didn't have the time, he decided a moment later. Any minute now, they would have a changing of the guards, and then… He interrupted his own train of thought, knowing that he had visualised the possible consequences of such an event more than once already, and turned back to his friend. "Of course you didn't. Celylith, however, would strongly disagree, were I to ask him for his opinion on this."

"No, he … wouldn't," Legolas shook his head, clenching his teeth as the pain in his upper arm and shoulder suddenly spiked to new, thoroughly uncomfortable levels. "He knows that it is … highly inappropriate to publicly disagree with his … lord and prince."

"Of course," Aragorn nodded ironically. "He is so wonderfully obedient and respectful all the time, isn't he?"

"Actually, he is," Legolas answered thoughtfully. "In public, that is."

Aragorn took two seconds to think about that, and finally came to the conclusion that the elf was right. Celylith wasn't afraid to tell other people just what he thought, including and especially Legolas, but he was also very aware of the fact that Legolas wasn't only his friend but also his prince. He had never criticised or disrespected Legolas in front of others, not even in front of him. Well, the man thought, not too often in front of him. When the silver-haired elf was truly angry or worried, he tended to forget that he was only the son of one of the Elvenking's advisors and that it was not his place to judge his prince or tell him what to do.

"You are right," he informed his elven friend a moment later. "And right now I would give one of my hands to have him here, and if he were to bring his sword, I would even kiss him." He paused for a moment, and added explanatorily, "My right hand, that is. It's useless anyway."

Legolas had either not listened to what he had said or had too little breath left to say anything. The elf was staring straight ahead, not even blinking once, and Aragorn made a mental note to check him for head injuries as soon as they could stop for longer than a few seconds. He knew that Legolas could behave strangely from time to time – he was a Silvan Elf, after all – but he rarely ignored him completely.

"I wonder what he would do if he were here?" he wondered out aloud, still looking at his blond friend. He was pale and there was a fine sheet of sweat on his forehead, but he didn't look confused or disoriented. "Celylith, I mean? Probably something involving some kind of smelly, hairy, ill-tempered monster."

"Yes … maybe," Legolas agreed softly. "But I think … that he would … well … just go?"

For a moment, Aragorn thought that pain and exhaustion were beginning to become too much for his friend and was already preparing to catch him should he lose consciousness, but then the serious undertone in the elf's voice made him realise that he was very serious. He looked up, only to decide a moment later that, if Legolas was beginning to go crazy, it just might be contagious. The guards were leaving, all of them, marching down the street in a short, orderly column.

The ranger closed his eyes, counted to three and opened them again, fully expecting to see the guards back at their posts. They remained gone, however, and Aragorn frowned heavily while he tried to come up with a reason for it. Just why would the Valar decide to smile upon them all of the sudden?

"It is a trap," he finally said, eyeing the unguarded gate with a mixture of incredulity, suspicion and longing. "Is has got to be a trap. They are hoping to lure us out into the open."

"Then they would know that … that we have escaped," Legolas told him, also looking at the gateway as if expecting it to grow legs and walk away. "No alarm has been sounded. It doesn't make … any sense."

"Nothing here does," Aragorn stated grimly, and, with a deep intake of breath, came to a decision. "We can't afford to let this opportunity pass. It might be a trap, but it also might be standard procedure around here, who knows. I say we go and get out of here."

Legolas was silent for a moment, staring at the gate in front of them and reaching out with his senses, trying to sense if there was danger in the air. He gave up after a few seconds, feeling completely drained by the short attempt. He hadn't felt as if anything was amiss, and while it might have been because he was in a town of men and not in the forest, he had the faint feeling that it was not a trap.

"Very well," he nodded a moment later. "We go."

Aragorn needn't be told twice and immediately began to move over to the small gateway, his left hand grasping the hilt of his sword and his eyes darting around suspiciously. No one and nothing made a move to stop them, however, and so the two of them disappeared through the quickly opened gate only a few minutes later, the door closing behind their retreating figures with a soft thud.

On the balcony of one of the houses in the alleyway, a middle-sized, well-kept building that lay in the deep shadow an even larger house to its right cast, a rather small, grey-haired man took a step forward, leaving the cover the building offered him. He didn't wear the costly robes that usually adorned his figure, and in the simple shirt and breeches in varying shades of brown he looked like a dozen other older menservants in this town.

He stared at the dark field beyond the town wall with narrowed eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the two beings he knew to be there somewhere, but even his for his age unusually sharp eyes couldn't spot anything. Very good, he thought to himself. It would be a shame if the two of them were caught all too quickly, wouldn't it?

His ears picked up the sound of marching feet, and he smiled thinly as a group of six soldiers rounded the corner below him, quickly nearing the now once again inconspicuous-looking gate. The next guard unit was here, and right on time, too. They wouldn't wonder about the fact that their comrades had left their posts early, at least not overly much. He had made sure that one of his men informed their commanding officer that the night shift had needed to return to the barracks a little earlier than usual, in order to be able to prepare for a special assignment from one of the commanders.

There was such an assignment of course, he had made sure of that, too. Every officer knew that the last phase of their lady's plan had begun, so special assignments were not exactly a rare occurrence at the moment. No, he thought to himself, the guards wouldn't wonder, and even when the elf's and the ranger's escape was noticed, as it was bound to be, no one would step forward and admit fault, neither the men who had left too early (at his instigation, if he was completely honest) nor the men who were arriving just now. Only a fool would do that and face Captain Gasur with such news, and there were not many fools left in their little army.

No, Salir thought with a smile that would have given even Gasur cause for concern. If he played his cards just right, no one would ever know that he had aided the captives in their escape. One of the officers who were loyal to him and not to Gasur had noticed the elf and the ranger when they had been sneaking out of the courtyard, and instead of raising the alarm the man had come to him, something for which he would be paid handsomely. He had needed only one moment to realise what kind of opportunity was just presenting itself to him, and had almost instantly ordered the commander not to tell anyone about what he had seen, least of all Captain Gasur.

It had been a risk sending the guards of this gate away, but he had suspected that the two escapees would chose this gate and not one of the others. The other three or four gates that were in the vicinity of the point where his man had seen the two of them were heavily guarded, by soldiers who knew their business well. The prisoners had been in the hands of Gasur for an entire day now, and if he knew the dear captain at all, they wouldn't be in the condition to try and attack a whole guard corps unless they didn't have any other choice. His guess had proven to be correct, in the end, proving to him nothing more than the fact that neither of the two was stupid or suicidal.

The grey-haired councillor slowly turned around after making sure that no one had noticed the prisoners' escape and began to walk into the direction of the staircase that would lead him back to the ground level of the house. If he wasn't very much mistaken, the changing of the guards up at the main house would be soon; it took place about twenty minutes after the changing of the guards down here. He would have to be back at the manor when that happened, where he could be seen by as many people as possible, just in case Gasur put two and two together and blamed him for the elf's and the ranger's escape.

It wasn't that he cared for their well-being or wanted to protect them in any way, of course. He had been hesitant in the beginning, fearing the elf lord's wrath more than anything else, but now he was committed. There was no going back now, and he was neither stupid nor naïve enough to believe that by letting the two of them go they would be able to pacify Lord Elrond and his warriors, should they ever find out what was going on here.

They wouldn't, however, since the elf and the ranger wouldn't escape. They would be trying to get to Aberon now, he suspected, and as unhappy as he was to admit that, if he could come to that conclusion in only a few seconds, then so could Gasur. They were on foot, while Gasur would pursue them on horses as soon as he had ascertained that they were no longer in the town, and while the captain and his men were rested or at least uninjured, the elf and the ranger had looked as if they had got on the wrong side of a troll's hammer. They wouldn't stand a chance.

Which was only good, he thought grimly. He was no traitor, after all, and didn't want to save the two of them or any other of their kind. He wanted to see them dead almost as much as Gasur, and be it only to make sure that they wouldn't be able to disturb their lady's plans anymore. No, the two of them would die, but he also had to admit that they were rather resourceful. It would take Gasur some time to catch up with them and kill them, long enough to make him look like an incompetent fool.

Salir smiled openly while he waited for his servant to lock the door of his house behind him. He knew what Gasur and their lady were doing right now, knew it without one of his spies having to tell him. But he also knew that, whatever the two of them were doing in the darkness and privacy of their bedrooms, it didn't matter to Acalith, not in the slightest.

Gasur fooled himself if he thought that his new status as their lady's … "confidant" would protect him from her wrath. He had served her longer than any other of the councillors or captains in her service, and he had seen many of her confidants and favourites. Neither their intelligence nor their ruthlessness or good looks had protected them in the end. Those who made mistakes fell from her favour, and there was always someone new to fill their place.

The grey-haired man's smile widened. He hadn't helped the elf and the ranger because he wanted to protect them, no. He had helped them to escape in order to make sure that Gasur fell out of favour for good. Even if he managed to recapture and/or kill the fair-haired elf and his friend, he wouldn't be able to wipe this black mark off his record. Salir sighed contentedly. Gasur had allowed two-thirds of their prisoners to escape, and he had the faint idea that that was something Lady Acalith wouldn't find amusing in the slightest.

The servant had finally locked the door behind them, and so Salir began to walk down the street, into the direction of the manor. Even though the sky was still dark and overcast and faint drizzle was falling, he couldn't help but grin openly.

He would never be able to oppose Gasur openly, but in a battle of wits, the dark-haired captain would lose every time.

Under normal circumstances, Reod didn't enjoy being woken at dawn. He enjoyed it even less when he had gone to bed only three hours ago, no matter how enjoyable the prior company might have been, and he positively hated it when he was woken by someone who could only be called a nervous wreck only one step away from a mental breakdown.

He didn't blame Genrir, though, the brown-haired captain admitted inwardly. His lieutenant may be slow on the uptake, but he did possess good instincts, all of which had been screaming at him to find himself a nice, deep, dank hole and hide in it for the next few years. It was a rather sensible idea, considering how angry Gasur had been when he had given the lieutenant the order to find his superior and bring him to the conference room.

It might actually have been quite a good thing that, some days ago, he had realised that he was afraid of Gasur. It hadn't been a realisation he had cherished – he still didn't – and not one he was overly proud of, but it had been dictated by reality and necessity. He was experienced enough to know that it was never good to lie to yourself, even if, deep down, you knew that you would never be able to act against that fear.

Apart from that, it also enabled him to fully cherish this … well, yes, this spectacle. Only the knowledge that he feared Gasur, that he would never oppose him openly or would incur his wrath if he had any other choice, allowed him to sit back and enjoy his fellow captain's predicament. Predicament might actually be the wrong word, Reod corrected himself. Gasur looked about ready to burst one or more major blood vessels. If he was lucky, the other man might even suffer a stroke. He doubted that he would be that fortunate, but it was a rather nice fantasy.

Unsurprisingly, Gasur did not suffer a stroke, nor did he show any other signs that he might be reacting physically to the news. It was a shame, really, Reod decided, feeling rather disappointed. He would have loved to see Gasur collapse into a quivering heap, and was prepared to react to his eventual – and hopefully painful – death with the utmost indifference.

Reod barely realised that he was beginning to smile faintly, so thoroughly was he caught up in his inner musings, but he quickly suppressed all signs of amusement when Gasur whirled around and glared at him, something that, under different circumstances, would have caused his heart to freeze inside his chest. Today, however, all he did was look back at the brown-haired man, and not even when Gasur's light brown, empty eyes locked with his did he avoid his gaze.

"Do you have something to say, Captain?" Gasur asked sharply, apparently working very hard to keep his emotions under control.

"Oh, no," Reod shook his head, deciding that this was definitely worth having been ripped out of a particularly pleasant dream. "Nothing, Captain. Nothing at all."

For a few moments, Gasur obviously pondered whether or not he was being taunted, but then he turned back around to stare at the man in front of him, who literally cringed under his look.

"Go on, Fosul," he hissed at his fair-haired lieutenant, sounding like a large, especially ill-tempered snake. "You were explaining just how the two of them managed to escape."

The other man gulped, took a deep breath and studiously avoided his superior's eyes as he answered him.
"We don't know, sir."

"You don't know."

"No, sir," the younger man repeated softly. "It appears as if they … picked the locks."

"They picked the locks."

"Yes, sir," Fosul bowed his head, apparently asking himself if Gasur had decided to repeat every single word he said. "We don't know how either."

"I can tell you how," Gasur retorted, sounding almost calm. "The elf lord helped them. I don't know how he did it, but he somehow managed to open their chains and set them free."

"And they left him behind for it," Fosul added. "That's an interesting way to thank him."

Reod rolled his eyes, and only the distaste he felt for this blond creature that was so much like its master prompted him to open his mouth and actually participate in this conversation.

"He can't walk," he explained slowly, completely aware of the fact that he was talking to the other men as if they were highly stupid children. "He would have been a burden and made an escape impossible. He knew that; they knew that. What did you expect them to do?"

Fosul blinked, obviously not knowing what to say, but Gasur was neither as clueless nor as stupid as his subordinate. He turned around to his fellow captain with the speed of an angry rattlesnake, fury and also a little fear on his face.
"Why were there no guards in the corridor? Why weren't they better guarded? And why in the name of all the Dark Ones did nobody see them, let alone try to stop them?"

For a moment, Reod found himself nearly overcome with sudden fear, once again spellbound by the nothingness in the other captain's eyes. Then he shook his head inwardly and forced a small, ironic smile onto his face, having decided that it would be a shame to ruin this rare opportunity with something as stupid as paralysing fear. Besides, he still had a reputation to protect. He was the senior captain, after all, and until the day came that Gasur decided that serving under him was no longer enough and had him eliminated, he would not back down before him in public.

"I can tell you why, Gasur," he answered far more calmly than he really felt. "Because you were so sure that the elf and the ranger didn't pose a threat anymore and reassigned their guards, that's why. They weren't seen because they're clever and dangerous, and nobody sounded an alarm because they killed the guards who discovered them. Is that enough or should I continue?"

"Oh, it's not enough," a cool, soft voice behind them declared, and Reod was treated to the rare pleasure of seeing Gasur cringe while the two of them whirled around. "Not nearly enough to answer any of these particular questions."

The two captains bowed before their mistress who had just entered the room with Salir, but it was Gasur who found his voice first.
"My lady."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Acalith retorted in at least as scathing a tone of voice as Gasur had used earlier. "Right now I am thinking about having the entire night guard – and their officers, mind you – executed." She paused for a moment, her dark gown rustling softly until she stopped only a few feet away from the three soldiers. "In case you were wondering: That means you, gentlemen."

"We are aware of that, my lady," Gasur nodded, still not meeting the young woman's eyes. "I would advise against it, however, since you would lose…"

"I do not want your advice, Gasur!" Acalith snarled; a most unladylike sound. Even Gasur, who no one would ever confuse with an intelligent person, had enough sense to bow his head and retort nothing. "I want to hear nothing from you, neither your advice, nor your excuses or anything else you have to say!"

She glared at Gasur for a few moments before she slowly let her eyes wander over men in the room, from the two captains and the lieutenant over Salir to the two or three council members who were doing their utmost best not to attract any attention and blend in with their surroundings. Reod didn't dare raise his head, but he peered at his lady through his eyelashes and once again thought how much like an avenging spirit she looked, even despite the bright halo of sunlight that surrounded her slender figure. Somehow, the light seemed to be swallowed up by her dark hair and, even more so, by the menacing aura that surrounded her, and neither her lovely face nor her innocent appearance could mask that impression.

After long moments of silence Acalith finally turned around, moved over to the table and sat down in a padded armchair, managing to exude an air of pure menace that impressed even Salir who had served her longest of all.

"So," she began slowly. "Tell me: Where are my prisoners?" Unsurprisingly enough, there was no answer, and the dark-haired woman shook her head unwillingly. "I am tiring of this, and will ask only once more. Where – are – my – prisoners?"

Gasur, Reod decided, might know their lady more intimately than he, but he was apparently also an idiot. The younger man might not notice or recognise the small, almost undetectable hints, but Reod had known their lady for quite a long time now, and knew when she was serious and when she wasn't. Right now, she was only half a step away from losing her temper completely, and Reod was by no means willing to risk that. It would at least be ugly, if not highly painful and bloody.

"They escaped, lady," Reod replied quietly, doing his best to keep his voice both calm and subservient. "We are not sure, but it appears as if they broke out last night, shortly after the changing of the guards at the third hour. They killed a couple of guards on the first level, hid their bodies in … well," the brown-haired captain stopped for a moment, fumbling for words, "in your study, my lady, and somehow got out of the courtyard. We have ascertained that they are no longer anywhere in the house or on its premises, and all available men are currently searching the town. The commanders are expected to return momentarily."

"I know that, Captain," Acalith nodded, a little more calmly now. "I know it, because one of my handmaidens found their bodies a few hours ago and screamed bloody murder." She turned in her chair and looked at Reod with a small glint of anger in her eyes, and once again the captain realised how much like Gasur the young woman was. "They left the elf lord behind? Lord Erestor?"

"Yes, my lady," Reod answered softly. "Most likely in order not to burden themselves with him on their escape."

Acalith raised a dark, finely arched eyebrow in either confusion or faint amusement.
"You don't understand them very well, do you?" She shook her head slowly, calculatingly. "They didn't leave him voluntarily; he made them leave him behind. I know the dear Lord Erestor by now, and he would not want to hinder their escape in any way." The young woman paused for a moment and then waved a hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter. He is here and they are not. That only leaves one question, though: Just where are they?"

No one seemed inclined to answer, and Reod sighed inwardly. He knew that he wasn't the most intelligent person ever to grace this earth, but in comparison to everybody else around here, he was a genius.

"We don't know, my lady," he replied after a few seconds, wincing slightly because he knew that, no matter in what light you viewed it, there was no safe answer to that question. "If I were to guess, I would say they left the city."

"How, Reod?" Gasur asked incredulously, apparently having regained his ability to speak. The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow mockingly as he regarded his fellow captain. Had he been a rooster, he would have stuck out his chest and ruffled his feathers. "How should they have got out of the town?"

"I don't know, Captain," Reod stressed the other's rank, his fear of Gasur melting away in face of his annoying, overbearing behaviour. The knowledge that Gasur was only a step away from falling from their lady's favour or at least severe humiliation did help some, too. "I, as you will remember, was not the officer on duty last night. You were."

"Thank you for reminding me," Gasur hissed with narrowed eyes. "They can't have escaped. They just can't. Every single town gate was guarded the entire night."

Reod frowned, a hint of unease touching his heart. Gasur did have a point; how would the elf and the ranger have managed to get out of the town? He shuddered inwardly. His feeling for the elven race hadn't changed over the last few weeks, and right now he found himself contemplating the possibility that the elf and his friend had used some sort of dark magic to escape their grasp. It wouldn't surprise him overly much; everybody knew that their kind had abilities and strengths no normal being had any business of possessing.

"Oh, yes," Acalith commented, the scathing undertone in her voice still easily audible. "And so were all the gates leading from the courtyard to the lower town, weren't they?"

This time, even Reod didn't say anything. There was nothing to say, after all.

"Maybe … maybe they used some sort of magic?" Fosul, Gasur's lieutenant, offered after a moment or two. "Elf magic?"

If Reod hadn't been so busy looking inconspicuous, he might actually have laughed. He might think that Fosul was right and that the elf and the ranger had used dark, otherworldly forces to escape, but he knew better than to actually say it out loud. Lady Acalith didn't believe in anything like ghosts or magic or even the Gods, and even though Reod didn't care about that in the slightest, he knew that she reacted impatient at any sign of superstition. At best.

Just as he had thought, the young woman's face darkened as she turned her head and gave the man a look that should rightly have turned him into a small pile of ashes.

"If you have nothing more to offer than absurd, superstitious nonsense, I would advise you to be silent, Lieutenant. Elves may be strong and fast, but they can't turn into thin air! The ranger certainly can't, not any better than you. I do not remember asking for your opinion, by the way, and should you speak out of turn again, I will gladly see to it that you are reminded of your place. Do you understand?"

The fair-haired man nodded mutely, apparently trying to turn into thin air himself, and Acalith turned back to the two captains and the councilmen in front of her.
"Well?"

Reod and Gasur lowered their heads in a rare gesture of concordance, but Salir returned her look evenly, his eyes glimmering with an emotion Reod couldn't identify.
"The guards must have been inattentive, my lady. I do not wish to place any blame," the pointed look he shot a clearly seething Gasur stood in stark contrast to that, "but it would seem that that is the only explanation."

"My guards are not 'inattentive', sir," Gasur ground out, sounding as if he was choking on the last word. "They know the price for such derelictions of duty well enough."

Salir smiled benevolently and inclined his head, a harmless gesture that fooled no one. Even Reod, who was notoriously uninterested in political scheming of any kind, decided that, right now, the grey-haired councillor looked about as innocent as a man with a bloody knife in his hand, standing over an equally bloody body.

"If that is so, Captain, and your men are not to blame, then there remains only one other option, doesn't it?" He raised his head again and looked straight at Gasur, cold-blooded calculation in his dark eyes. "If the men did their jobs, it must have been the officers who made the mistake. Is this not so?"

Salir held his breath while he waited for Gasur to arrive at the right conclusion. He knew that he mustn't be too obvious about all this – at least not unless he wanted to wake up (or rather not wake up) one morning with his throat cut – but he simply couldn't resist the temptation to goad the younger man. He had wanted to do it for so long now, and unless Gasur had developed the ability to read minds sometime in the last six months and realised that it had been him who had aided the two prisoners' escape, there was nothing the captain would be able to do against it. Especially not with their lady watching.

He didn't have to wait long either. The outrage he had been waiting for spread on Gasur's face while he was still formulating that last thought, followed quickly by surprise and renewed hatred. Oh yes, Salir thought, allowing himself a small smile. This was almost as sweet as the knowledge that he had made Gasur look like a complete fool.

"Just what," Gasur began in a deceivingly calm voice, "is that supposed to mean?"

"That is rather clear, is it not, Gasur?" Acalith answered for her seneschal, giving the dark-haired captain an utterly uncompromising look. "Salir has a point, though. Your safety measures were quite clearly insufficient, Captain. We will talk about this later, be assured."

She paused for a moment, thus giving Gasur the time to shoot the grey-haired councillor a look so full of venom that it was a small miracle that he didn't collapse on the spot. Salir returned the look, quite unimpressed, but told himself to remain on his guard. There was something in the younger man's eyes, not much more than a vague suspicion, but it was enough. Right now everybody was viewing this as a concatenation of unfortunate incidents, even Gasur, but if he pushed him, the captain just might reconsider. Salir shuddered inwardly. He didn't think that the officer who had ordered his men to leave their posts a little earlier would actually talk, for that he had paid him too well, but then again, Gasur could be convincing. Very much so, especially when he was holding a knife.

Salir returned his attention to their lady as she turned back to him and Captain Reod. Her face was calm once more, reminding not only him of a carved, beautiful marble statue. The sun had disappeared once more, dipping the room into a dreary gloom, and in the sparse light the contrast between the young woman's white skin and her dark, almost black hair was once again striking.

"As unfortunate as this whole incident is, though," Acalith went on, either indifferent or oblivious to her two subordinates' silent conflict, "it is no complete catastrophe – yet, that is. As long as we have the dear Lord Erestor, everything is not lost."

"If Captain Gasur manages to get him to talk, that is," Salir commented snidely.

Gasur's face became even darker, but he forced himself to smile at the older man. It turned into more of a grimace, and a rather hateful one at that. In fact, it looked more like the facial expression of a warg right before it jumped at you and tore out your throat, Reod decided.

"I would be most glad to … demonstrate a few of my methods for you. Sir."

"Enough!" Acalith's voice cut through the room with the force of a whip, and both men were intelligent enough to heed her order. There were not many people who actually argued with Lady Acalith when she was in this particular kind of mood. "Captain Gasur will succeed. He is, after all, a professional, am I not correct, Captain?"

"You are, my lady," Gasur retorted with a subservient bow into Acalith's direction and a hateful look into Salir's. "As I promised you earlier, I will make sure he tells you everything you want to know. Eventually."

"Yes, eventually," Salir commented softly, as if to himself. "That's the problem, isn't it?"

Acalith only gave him a single look that impressed upon him the consequences of continued loquacity and turned back to Gasur and Reod.
"I want them taken care of. If they manage to get to Aberon, they could compromise the whole plan, even though they can't know much."

"And no one would believe them if they did," Gasur nodded. "Who would believe an elf and a ranger if they accuse one of the most respected councilmen of being in league with us?"

"Not many," Acalith agreed coldly. "Some might, however. It takes only two or three suspicious council members and the whole plan falls apart." She narrowed her eyes at the two soldiers in front of her. "I will not allow that. I want them eliminated. Now."

"Yes, my lady," Reod inclined his head obediently. "As soon as the commanders are back…"

He didn't get to finish the sentence, however, since a knock sounded on the wooden door behind them. At Gasur's nod one of the two guards standing left and right of the door posts opened the door, and a man entered the room, looking as if he would rather be giving Sauron advice on interior decoration than be here. Reod recognised him as one of the commanders who had conducted the search of the city; it appeared that he had been chosen to report to them. A very small part of him grinned inwardly. Judging by the other man's expression, he had drawn the short straw.

"My lady," the man stopped a few feet away from them and bowed deeply, either meaning it as a gesture of respect or in order to put some distance between him and his superiors. Either way, it was a smart choice, especially considering his next word.

Gasur frowned at him, the other man's discomfort apparently raising his own mood and self-confidence. He really was quite a despicable person, Reod decided detachedly.
"Speak, Commander," Gasur ordered curtly. "If you have something to report, speak up!"

The man took a deep, calming breath that failed to have any effect at all and bowed his head.
"They are not in the city, sir."

Acalith's eyes narrowed, and her anger was almost tangible.
"What did you say?"

"The two of them are not in the city, my lady," the man repeated softly.

"You are sure about this?" Reod asked sharply. If the man was right – and he rather suspected he was – then they were all in serious trouble. Very serious trouble.

"Yes, sir," the man replied. "We have been searching for hours now. We couldn't find any traces of them inside the walls."

Gasur opened his mouth to say something, most likely in order to shift the blame on someone else, when the full implication of the other man's words seemed to register in his brain. He shot Salir a cold look, almost as if daring him to say something, before he returned his gaze to the pale commander who obviously wished he hadn't got out of bed this morning.
"'Inside' the walls? What are you saying, man?"

"One of my men found a trail, a bit away from the East Gate," the commander answered hesitantly. "No more than two people, on foot and in a hurry. It's rather faint, though. I would say it's at least a day old, but our tracker disagrees. He says someone disguised it, and did it very well, too. We didn't have the time to follow it for long, but from what we can say, it heads north-east."

There was a brief, tense silence, before Reod took a deep breath and summed up the other man's words.
"To Aberon."

"Uhm … yes, sir."

Reod nodded his head, but knew better than to say anything. Lady Acalith would decide what would be done, and she didn't appreciate being advised unless she asked for it. The young woman didn't say anything immediately, but then she nodded to herself and looked up.

"The elf lord can wait," she announced decisively in a tone of voice that brookedno argument. "You, Captain," she nodded at Gasur, "will take your men and see to it that this little problem is eliminated. I don't care what you do, or how many men you need, but I want you to make sure that they don't get to Aberon, or anywhere else, for that matter. Understood?"

"I understand, my lady," Gasur inclined his head. "They have a few hours' head start, but they are on foot, and injured. They won't have had the time to conceal their trail completely. It will be no problem catching up with them. I will not disappoint you."

"I hope so, Captain, for your sake," the dark-haired woman told him, her tone of voice making it very clear that she was not joking. "I seriously hope so. My patience will soon be at an end."

She got to her feet and gave the men in front of her a last, menacing look.
"I want them taken care of. Kill them or bring them back with you; I don't care." She began to move over to the door, but then she stopped and turned back, her dark gown swirling around her slender figure. "No, that is not correct, now that I think about it. I would very much prefer it if you would kill them."

Gasur merely bowed his head with a thoroughly disconcerting smile, and a moment later she and Salir were gone, leaving behind a lingering sense of menace that dissipated only very slowly. The dark-haired captain looked after her for a while, his face unreadable, before he turned back to the others, his gaze wandering over Reod before it came to rest on his lieutenant who had for the last ten minutes rather successfully pretended to be a chair.

"Gather the men, Fosul. We are going on a little hunt."

The sun was trying to break through the thick, leaden layer of clouds that was covering the sky, a rather futile attempt as every objective observer would have admitted. It had been raining for most of the day, and since midday the short spells of sunshine had become less frequent and far shorter.

Aragorn, however, was not complaining, at least not about the fact that the sun wasn't shining. It was in fact rather advantageous, because it was making everything harder for their pursuers, which was also a little bit surprising. Nothing had happened to them lately that had been even remotely advantageous, so he was still mildly suspicious. The Valar were a crafty lot, after all, and he wouldn't put it beyond them to lure him into a false sense of security by letting something "advantageous" happen to them.

The young ranger ran a dirty, shaking hand over his forehead, only serving to add grime to the broad streak of dried blood there, and gave the grey sky a last look before he turned back around. He ducked under one of the small oak saplings that was offering them some cover and knelt down, dimply noticing that he really had to stop doing that or he wouldn't be able to get up again. Considering the way he felt, that might not be such a bad idea.

Blinking against the dark spots that had suddenly appeared in his field of vision, he shook his head and fixed reluctantly co-operating eyes on the pale face of his friend, who looked only one step away from losing consciousness once again. Which, Aragorn thought darkly, would probably not be such a bad idea either.

"Legolas?" he asked hesitantly, not really knowing whether the elf was simply staring into space or whether he was asleep. "Legolas?"

The elf didn't answer immediately, but just when Aragorn thought that he had really lost consciousness again he blinked slowly, and some awareness returned to his eyes.
"Don't … shout," Legolas told him softly. "I hear you."

Aragorn smiled, but no merriment reached his eyes. If Legolas had been in a little less pain and more aware of his surroundings, he would have seen the hunted, almost panicky expression in the human's eyes.

"I am not shouting," the ranger informed his friend. "The Valar forbid I do something as capitally stupid as that. I have done enough stupid things already." He paused, casting a quick look over his shoulder, and turned back to the elf. "Can you still hear them? Legolas? Are they still after us?"

Even while he was speaking the words, he realised what a horribly stupid thing he had just said. Of course Gasur and his merry men would still be after them; if there was one thing to be said about the other man, it was that he was single-minded and very persistent.

Legolas seemed to be listening for a few seconds, his head cocked slightly to the side, and then he nodded, a gesture full of weariness.
"Yes. Ten minutes behind us, maybe a quarter of an hour, even though I doubt it."

Aragorn only nodded, neither looking nor feeling overly surprised.
"You have to remind me of something if we get out of this," he demanded tiredly. "Remind me to never go on a hunt again. Ever. It's sadistic, that's what it is."

Legolas nodded as well.
"I … I will." He paused for a moment and blinked slowly. "We need to go on."

"In a minute. I need to rest for a while," Aragorn shook his head, realising that he wasn't even lying to his friend.

He might have insisted on taking this short break because he had been worried about Legolas, but he felt ready to drop, too. The pain in his wrist seemed to have even increased over the past few hours, and he was beginning to get seriously annoyed with the hazy, black dots that were clouding his vision now and again. It seemed that exhaustion plus lack of water plus constant stress on top of dislocated and broken bones and a maltreated skull were not a good thing for a human, not even a Númenórean.

Deciding that it was far more rewarding to worry about someone else than about himself, he returned his attention to Legolas, his eyes slowly travelling over the other's cut and bruised body. Most of the visible skin was black and blue, lacerated or burnt, and blood was still seeping through the hastily applied bandage that was nothing more than a thin scrap of clothing. The cut on the elf's throat that hadn't even begun to heal yet only added to his bedraggled appearance, and served to give him the look of a criminal that had barely escaped the executioner's axe. It was a comparison of which Legolas would most definitely not have approved.

"How is your arm?" he asked, his fingers hovering over the blood-stained bandage. "And would you please stop bleeding?"

"I will do my best, Aragorn," the elven prince retorted wryly with a small, pained smile.

"Hmph," the man grunted softly, trying to disguise his concern. Elves could tolerate much higher blood loss than men, but there were limits to everything. After two pints or so things got ugly, even for the Firstborn. "See that you do, my friend. I do not have the time to stitch the wound or something like that."

"With … what?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"With what would you … stitch it? Grass and a pointy stick?"

"Don't tempt me," Aragorn smiled at his friend. "That should be interesting." He suddenly raised his head, thinking he'd heard something, and decided that they should get going before he became completely paranoid. "Can you walk, Legolas? We need to go."

"Of course I can," Legolas nodded in what he probably thought was a convincing, reassuring manner. In combination with the pallor of his face and his general bloody, bedraggled appearance, the jerky movement of his head was neither. "Help me up."

Aragorn took a deep breath in order to steel himself against the pain he knew was coming and grasped his friend's uninjured arm, pulling him to his feet after several moments. The black spots in front of his eyes suddenly grew bigger and threatened to solidify into a single black sheet that tried to lay itself over his vision, but Aragorn shook his head and blinked them away. He simply didn't have the time to lose consciousness now.

It took at least half a minute until the man had managed to sling his right arm around his injured friend's waist in order to keep him upright, and another few seconds until the raging pain in his broken right wrist had receded to more bearable levels. When they were ready to leave, Aragorn gave the small copse of trees that had sheltered them a last, longing look and began to move, hoping that his sense of direction was still working and that they weren't going in the completely wrong direction. That, he decided with a small, inner grin, would be just the kind of thing the Valar would find amusing, wouldn't they? Well, Tulkas would, that much was sure.

The first few steps caused pure, white-hot agony to flare through his upper body, but after a few feet his body got used to this new, additional discomfort, leaving Aragorn to ponder this extraordinary mess they'd got themselves into this time. He kept his eyes fixed on the horizon and resisted the urge to constantly look over his shoulder. He knew that Legolas would hear their pursuers a long time before he would, even in his current state, but that did not really calm the feelings of fear and anxiety that were bubbling inside his chest.

At the thought of the 'Fox', that insane, sick man with the empty and completely soulless eyes, he felt a wave of heated anger pass through him, and he had to remind himself not to tighten his grip on his friend, knowing that it would cause both of them additional pain. He had forced Legolas to stop about half an hour after they had escaped the city, and while he had been treating the long cut on the elf's arm, he had got the chance to take a closer look at Gasur's … handiwork. The dark-haired ranger shook his head against the memory of his friend's wounds and ground his teeth. If he ever got his hands on that man, he would kill him.

By the way things were going right now, that moment wouldn't be too far away. They had known that their trail would be discovered, but he had rather hoped that it would take them a little bit longer. It had been two hours now since Legolas had been sensing the first signs of pursuit, and not much after that he, too, had been beginning to feel definitely ill at ease. That feeling had only become stronger, and by now it was in fact so strong that he felt as if someone had set his skin on fire. He knew that they were being followed, knew that it was only a matter of time until they would be found, and, most of all, knew that they were sitting ducks where they were now.

Aragorn shot his surroundings a dark, faintly disgusted look that it did not really deserve. They hadn't had much of a choice and had avoided the roads, knowing that it would be the first place Gasur and his friends would look, but in the past hours they had begun to keep ever more to the east, feeling the hunters' net close around them. The terrain had become rocky and uneven, with only a little shrubbery and even fewer trees. The ground was beginning to slope upwards, forming rough, jagged cliffs that ran parallel to the riverbed no more than five hundred yards to their right, and their pace that hadn't been all that great to begin with had become even slower.

It had been the only suitable course of action, though, and the only reason why they hadn't been caught up with already. If they were having trouble with the terrain, their pursuers' horses would have even more trouble. It wasn't much, and he knew that the soldiers were still gaining on them, but he was willing to take every small advantage he could get.

The intensity of his unease went up another notch, and Aragorn couldn't help but look over his shoulder after all. There was nothing to see, at least not yet, but he had the very distinct feeling that they were running out of time, and running out of options. They wouldn't be able to hide anywhere, for that the terrain was too barren, and they wouldn't be able to keep up this pace for much longer. Even under normal circumstances it would have been no small feat to escape a group of mounted, armed men, but right now… Aragorn took a deep breath and shook his head slightly. Right now, it was hopeless.

"We will have to think of another plan," he told the elf next to him nonchalantly. "I don't think this one is working very well."

"It has been … working for longer than … than I had thought," Legolas informed him, pausing frequently to gather enough air to speak. "I had expected them to … catch up with us hours ago."

"Thank you for your vote of confidence, mellon nín," Aragorn retorted, trying his best to sound indignant.

"You are most welcome," the elf answered, attempting some sort of shrug. A second later he frowned, seemed to freeze on the spot and finally turned back to his friend, his eyes wide and not at all surprised. "I hear them."

Aragorn actually needed some time to understand what the elven prince was talking about, his addled mind refusing to co-operate with him, but then the words' meaning finally registered in his brain.
"How many?"

"I … I cannot tell," Legolas shook his head, his face still frozen in an expression of utter concentration. "Half a dozen perhaps?" His frown deepened and his eyes took on a far-away look as he listened even more intensely. A moment later he looked back at Aragorn, and the man saw that the elf's face had turned even whiter. "Estel – they are in front of us. And they are close."

Aragorn didn't say anything, since he was far too busy trying not to despair here and now. If Legolas was right – and he didn't doubt it for a second – and there was a group in front of them, then that meant that there was a second group of men behind them, and maybe another one somewhere in between. If he hadn't been so busy cursing his name, Aragorn would even have given Gasur some credit for his strategy. The man had cornered them like a pair of rabbits, had closed off their escape on three sides and pushed them against the river. It wasn't exactly ingenious, but it was smart. He hadn't thought Gasur was that smart.

"I underestimated him," he said tensely, not having to explain about whom he was talking. "I didn't think he was capable of laying such a trap."

"It wouldn't have been … it wouldn't have mattered," Legolas shook his head, desperately trying to hold on to his train of thought. His thoughts had been become ever more jumbled, and if he didn't concentrate enough, they were slipping out of his grasps like wisps of smoke. "It was only a matter of time."

"I should have disguised our tracks more carefully," Aragorn said bitterly, shaking his head as well. "Maybe then they wouldn't have found us so quickly."

Legolas opened his mouth, most likely to tell him that avoiding capture for more than half a day was actually quite an achievement, but didn't get to say anything. He paused in mid-thought, surprise and fear spreading over his face at the same time at rather impressive speed. A moment later he threw himself to the side, ignoring his protesting body as best as he could and pulling Aragorn with him. The two of them hit the ground with a dull thud that still couldn't drown out the swishing sound of an arrow that passed overhead. The sudden impact stunned them both, but then they were prompted into action by the sound of shouts, somewhere to the left of them.

Knowing that giving in to his body's demands and simply staying where he was would be a very bad idea, Aragorn scrambled to his feet, the pain that raged in his body being held in check by the sudden rush of adrenaline that flowed through his veins. He pulled his elven friend to his feet, once again thanking the Valar for the other's keen senses, and quickly looked around, deciding that he really could have done without this particular sight.

One of the groups had caught up with them, the one whose presence Legolas had detected only minutes ago. There were in fact eight riders, at least as far as he could see. They were just riding around a rocky outcropping to their left, a part of them keeping to the left and another part giving them a wide berth in order to cut them off. Aragorn felt how his heart froze inside his chest. They couldn't keep going, they couldn't try to escape into the direction of the road to the west, and they couldn't go back, not with the second group now only minutes behind them.

All this passed through the ranger's head in a second, quickly followed by the realisation that they would end up as dead as Smaug if they didn't move, now. They were still well out of range of a sword or a dagger, but these men had bows and seemed to know how to use them, too. Taking the only option they had still left, he grasped Legolas' uninjured arm and began to pull him over to the right, into the direction of the Mitheithel.

"Come!"

They had already taken half a dozen steps when Legolas realised what he was doing, apparently still stunned from the painful fall they had taken. For a second he allowed the man to pull him with him, but then he shook his head and tried to shake off his hand, ignoring the small voice at the back of his head that told him that he would collapse should Aragorn really let go of him.

"What in the name of Varda Elentári are you doing, Aragorn?"

"Saving our lives," the man retorted curtly, unconsciously ducking his head as another arrow missed them by inches. "We can't fight them. We have one sword and one dagger, and nothing more. We can't fight them."

"I won't keep running," Legolas shook his head heatedly, ignoring the sudden spell of dizziness that hit him at the quick movements. He found it hard to follow his friend's words, and even harder to understand just what the man wanted from him. "I will not die like a cornered rat, trying to hide under a rock!"

"Who said anything about dying?" Aragorn frowned as he almost lost his footing on the uneven, stony ground. "I will most certainly not die, and…"

He stopped in mid-sentence, sliding to a stop and managing to halt Legolas' momentum just in time to prevent him from falling over the cliff's edge that had suddenly appeared in front of them. He stared at the drop at his feet and the churning, turbulent waters of the Hoarwell at least forty feet below them, before he slowly turned his head and looked at the steadily advancing men behind them. They weren't even running to catch up with them, apparently well aware of the fact that their prey was cornered and wouldn't be able to escape.

"Maybe I was wrong," Aragorn admitted evenly.

Legolas was far too preoccupied to even think about protesting, and once again tried to shake off his friend's steadying hand.
"Let got of me, Aragorn. If they want to kill me, they are most welcome to try."

"They will, stubborn wood-elf, they will," the man assured him darkly, his eyes darting frantically from left to right. He seemed to come to a decision, for he raised his head and gave Legolas a quick look. "Jump."

"What!"

"Jump," Aragorn repeated, and grasped the elf's sleeve more firmly as another arrow came far too close for comfort. "Jump! Now!"

"I did something like this once before, and it didn't work out very well," Legolas shook his head. He was feeling rather strange right now, namely rather hot and disconnected from what was happening around him, and Aragorn wasn't making much sense, but one thing he knew very well was that he wouldn't keep running, and he wouldn't go down without a fight. "Let me go. I will not die like a cowering orc."

Aragorn shook his head, realising that Legolas wasn't thinking straight at the moment. He once again looked behind them, hoping for a stroke of last-minute inspiration. None was forthcoming, and so he merely turned back around, a rueful expression on his pale face.
"I am sorry, but we don't have time for this. Forgive me."

Before Legolas could even figure out what the man meant, he felt Aragorn's hand let go of his sleeve. The next thing he felt was a rather hard push from behind, and a second later he was flying over the edge of the cliff, plummeting into the frothingstream.

Aragorn barely waited for half a second, not even feeling an arrow graze his already wounded shoulder, and with the realisation that Legolas would undoubtedly kill him for this he jumped after his friend.

TBC...

mellon nín - my friend

•winces• Nope, Legolas will NOT be happy about that. The fact that he wasn't acting very rationally either is not going to impress him much, I fear... •g• Anyway, if everything goes according to plan (•tired sigh• When does it ever?), I should be able to go back to my former posting schedule. The exams are still some weeks away, and I just have lots of papers to write. So, the next chapter should be here on Tuesday or Wednesday, and no, I am not expecting you to believe that. I wouldn't either, I guess. •g• Still, reviews are, as always, much appreciated, loved and cherished!

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Additional A/N:

Invisigoth3 - Well, no, I don't really hate the two of them. You guys are slightly more important, though. I mean, really, you provide me with lots and lots of lovely reviews, and what do Aragorn and Legolas do? Give me nothing but trouble, try to escape all the time AND refuse to shut up! Serves them right, I'm telling you... •g• I am glad that I managed to surprise you, btw. I would hate to become predictable. •g• Thanks a lot for your review!
Ali64 - •cringes• I •was• back. Kind of. Not really, though. Sorry. And you're right, of course, Legolas should stop having that inner monologue all the time. I've been telling him the same thing for ages, but does he listen to me? No, of course not, stupid wood-elf that he is... •g• And I'm sorry, what? Isál should have more faith in a son of Elrond? •shakes head incredulously• Really, would you? I mean, look at them: They're walking, talking catastrophes! They can't go anywhere without people trying to kill them/their companions/family members/pets/etc.! Thanks for your patience, and I DID beat the phone company in the end. It was an accident, I guess, but still. •g•
HarryEstel - •thoughtfully• You know, you might be right about that. The Valar get bored, too, I guess, and Elrond's and Thranduil's reactions are just SO much fun. •evil grin• They don't know how amusing they are, do they?
Cosmic Castaway - Of course they have bad luck; the Valar hate them. Well, that's not completely true, but my alter ego hates them, or rather likes to make their lives miserable. So does Jack, btw. •evil grin• And I know I'm long overdue - again, I might add - but I really couldn't have updated sooner without a lot of trouble. FF-net never accepts a document right away and I always have to re-format it, and doing all that in an internet café ... no, I don't think I'd have enough patience for that. •g• Thanks a lot for pushing me down the stairs, btw. It's nice to know I'm being loved. •g•
Evergreene - •g• Glad you liked that particular image! I really can picture it, though: Elrond taking an incredibly thick book and... •winces• Ah, poor Legolas. Should have seen that coming, though. •evil grin• It's great to hear that you like my insane little stories, thanks a lot for your review!
Sanarylle - I'd have taken the valium, trust me. I would have been able to cope with being internet-less, or phone-less, but all at once! I know I should have bought a mobile phone ages ago, but I just hate those bloody things. •grr• Well, I managed to survive the ordeal, somehow. Don't ask me how. •g• You might be right, you know. They might be becoming ever more sarcastic. I wonder why? •characters stare at author evilly• I really have no idea... •g• And ... wow. I guess no one has ever compared my style of writing with PJ's set designs. I mean that seriously, btw. Thanks a lot. •huggles• That's very flattering. And Isál WILL discover that Elvynd's still alive - if he manages to survive this story, that is. Poor elf, he doesn't really know what he's getting himself into... •evil grin• Ah, that's his problem, I guess. Yes, I'm sadistic. Thank you very much for your long review! •huggles•
Ainu Laire - You live in a big white room with semingly no end? That's ... interesting. •g• I'm sorry for not updating any sooner. But there's lots of Aragorn in this chapter, so I hope you'll be pacified. •g• LOL, a mail-elf! I wish we had one of those, too! We only have a normal postman, and a bad one at that. And I feel for you. I really do. I don't know what I'd do if my Aragorn were to be taken hostage by Mary-Sues! The horror! •shudders• Don't give in to their demands, though. You can negotiate with lawyers, terrorists and teachers, but NEVER with Mary-Sues! They'll steal your soul and turn you into one of them, that's worse than death!
Red Tigress - Hmm, now that I see it like that, it seems to me as if describing the process of a turn in four paragraphs isn't all that great... Thanks for telling me it's okay, but still - I think I'll have to try and avoid things like that in the future. Looks a little odd, doesn't it? •g• And you could be right, you know. Maybe the Valar don't hate them. They just might like to see them up to their necks in trouble. Lots and lots of it. •g•
Dae - Let me think, what will happen when Elrond, Glorfindel, Celylith and Elladan arrive at Aberon? Elrond: Pain. Glorfindel: Bloodshed. Celylith: Broken bones. Elladan: Death. Ah yes, I guess that's about it. Don't you? •g• Your prediction is ... interesting. Not entirely accurate, but interesting. I guess you'll just have to wait and see ... sorry about that. My alter ego likes to keep everyone else in the dark. •g• And your other guess was quite good, you know. Really quite good. I can't say more, of course, but that might be quite close. •g•
CrazyLOTRfan - You really thought I'd vanish just like that? Really? •sniffs• I'm hurt. You should know me better: I would write the story till the big finale, write a a cliffy, leave everyone's life hanging in the balance and THEN I'd vanish. •shakes head• Honestly. •g• No, j/k, I would never not finish a story. I am far too much of a perfectionist for that. •g• You're not really close with your guess, I fear, but there WILL be a cliffy. I figured you deserve one, for being so patient. •smiles•
Jazmin3 Firewing - Well, as I said, people here don't believe in free internet access at libraries. Something about the economy being on its last legs and no one having any money. •grimaces• Would be too easy, too. And I didn't think you were nagging. Not even for second, really. •g•
Madam Librarian - Hmm, yes, that's essentially my excuse. Sorry. •g• And I never said that RL is more important than FF. You assumed! •g• It's just that RL has the tendency to come back and bite you in the a•• if you ignore it too much. •winces• It never fails. I am sorry about Erestor, though. There won't be a scene in this chapter, and none in the next chapter either. I'm really sorry, but it's getting too long again and I really have to start wrapping everything up. I might be able to squeeze in a small scene in ch. 26 or 27, but I wouldn't count on it. Sorry again. •rueful smile• And please, PLEASE don't apologise for criticising the chapters. I am not a professional writer, have never had lessons of any kind and English is not my first language. There are lots of things that sound awkward or are just plain wrong, and I thank you for pointing them out to me. It would be far worse if I make mistakes and no one tells me about them! How am I supposed to learn? Oh, and thank you very much for that pic! You drew that? Really? I am deeply impressed - I am someone who can't even draw a house. Sad, but true. •g•
Slayer3 - LOL, yes, they escaped. Kind of, at least. Who'd have thought? •g• Oh, there is an "I love Elrohir and Elladan fanclub"? About time, too! With all the attention Aragorn and Legolas are getting, they've been ignored by most people. Poor little elfsies. •huggles them• Thanks a lot for taking the time to review!
Celebdil-Galad and Tinlaure- Oh, I can be blamed, that's for sure. I guess I should have told the phone company about my intention to move sooner, then I'd have been reconnected after five weeks, not six. I guess. I can't be sure, since they hate me and want to drive me insane. •g• You had a wonderful idea, though: I will send Gasur to have a little ... "conversation" with the phone company. See how THEY like it! •evil cackle• And don't worry, you really aren't driving me crazy. I understand your frustration, and really must thank you for your patience!
Bookworm13 - LOL, thanks a lot. Now I know •exactly• what "update" means. I promise to do my best to follow aforementioned definition. I am sorry for keeping you waiting for so long, and you have every right to be impatient. Once again, sorry for that and thanks a lot for your review!
Ithil-valon - Mhahahaha, say no more! Of COURSE things can get worse for them! Please note that the following chapters are all •your• fault. •g• No, j/k, they are my alter ego's. Maybe Jack's, too, but only a little. The whole cliff thing is not to be blamed on her. •g• But really, you should know that, no matter how bad a situation is, it can always get worse. ALWAYS. Istn't that right, you two? •Aragorn and Legolas nod tiredly• See, even THEY get it now. •g•
Mystic Girl1 - Nah, kann nicht sein. Ich halluziniere. •kneift sich selbst in der Arm. Review ist immer noch da• Ist es wahr? Du? Hier? Na, das ist doch mal 'ne nette Ueberraschung! •knuddel• Schoen, dich mal wieder zu "sehen"! Ich hatte mich schon ein paar mal gefragt, was mit dir passiert ist... •g• Aber wenn du Problemen mit der Telekom hattest, kann ich das absolut verstehen. Ich bin zwar bei Arcor, aber das macht alles nur noch schlimmer. Arcor braucht immer noch die Unterstuetzung und Erlaubnis der Telekom, und warum sollten die sich 'nen Bein fuer Nicht-Kunden ausreissen? •schuettelt Kopf• Gott, ich hasse die Telekom. •g• Ich kann mir uebringens gut vorstellen, dass die Telekom von Orks gefuehrt wird. Wuerde einiges erklaeren, oder? •g•
LegolasGreenleafGil-Estel - Ah, yes, the dreaded question. I really don't know how long it's going to be, sorry. I guess about as long as TWIN, but I really can't be sure. Ask me again in two chapters or so, then eveything should be a lot clearer. I hope. •g• You're right, of course, my alter ego does want them to be recaptured (she IS evil, after all). The plot, however, disagrees, and I have learnt never to argue with your blood. It's just counterproductive. •g• LOL, yes, Elrohir is VERY modest. Then again, he's an elf, so he KNOWS he's beautiful. Bloody arrogant race, elves. •g• You're throwing books at your sister? In fun? Riiiiight...
Marbienl - So you're having withdrawal symptoms already? That's ... interesting. Disconcerting, but interesting. •g• As I said in the A/N, I'm not in Spain. In this country you don't get a place at a foreign university and they let you go just like that! You have to fill in forms, and more forms, and prove that you can speak the language, and have somewhere to stay, and will come back again, and know which classes you'll be taking, and... I could go and, but I won't. It's too depressing. •g• LOL, I like "Peredhil Law". Has a nice ring to it. •g• And I'm sure that Elrohir would tell you he's divine if you asked him - stupid elf that he is. •g• Thank you for you email, btw. I am not in Spain, no, but I would have liked a little snow. I haven't built a snowman for ages. •g•
- Hmm, that name disappeared. It appears that FF-net doesn't only hate me... Ah well, whatever. It's very nice to hear that you liked the conversation between Isál and Elrohir. I thought Isál needed some cheering up, but it didn't really work out that way. •shrugs• It happens all the time, so I'm not overly surprised. •g• I have to admit that there won't be any Elrond and/or Erestor scenes in the near future. Sorry. We DO have a cliffy, though! Great, huh? Thanks a lot for the review!
Viggomaniac - Ah, well, no. Nothing nice happened to me. I didn't expect that, either. My phone company hates me; that's the reason why they won't give me a DSL port. I HATE ISDN! It's so horribly slow! The most simple download takes •ages•! •calms down• Sorry. I should be grateful to have internet access at all, I guess, and it's a lot faster than a 56 K modem. And I have to say I'm very impressed! Translating a story is always hard, and from German to English at that... German is a horrible language, and rather hard to translate to English. That's what I think, anyway. It's a lot easier for me, because I don't translate my stories. I have never read the books in German either, and always watch the movies in English. I have only seen FOTR in German once, with my sister, and boy was that horrible! I mean, come on, "Duesterwald" is supposed to be Mirkwood? It's an accurate description, but it sounds so stupid! I couldn't stop laughing, and we were almost kicked out of the cinema. •g• And don't worry, I know that you would never harass me. Nope, not you. •g•
Dreamzone - Oh. •blushes• Well, thank you! It's very nice to hear that you like my stories, even though your review is beginning to give me delusions of grandeur. Ah well, that's not too bad either. I'm insane already, so it can't hurt. •g• Thank you very, very much for your kind words. It's always great to hear that there are people out there who like my sense of humour. •g•
Maerz - Uhm. Ja. Was soll ich sagen? Sorry? •nervoes• Du hast auch 'ne Katze? Wie schoen! Ich hab vier, toll, nech? •g• Nein, es tut mir wirklich leid. Ich bin bei Arcor, und die brauchen nun mal die Bestaetigung der Telekom, wenn man umzieht. Wir haben jeden Tag vom Handy aus angerufen, ob die Bestaetigung da war, und das war natuerlich nie der Fall. Warum sollten die sich auch ein Bein fuer Nicht-Kunden ausreissen? Es war auf jeden Fall sehr nervenaufreibend. Tut mir leid, dass ihr alle so lange warten musstest, aber glaub' mir, es war VIEL schlimmer fuer mich. Ich gebe ja offen zu, dass ich internetsuechtig bin... Wie dem auch sei, ich hoffe, ich habe dich jetzt nicht endgueltig in die Arme der Koffeinsucht getrieben. Hier ist auch schon das naechste Kapitel! Ging doch richtig schnell! •g•
SeventhSpanishAngel12 - LOL, yes, loungeitis sound just right. I have to go and ask my doctor about it. Maybe he can help ... I doubt it, though. •g• Then again, I might have been bitten by a tsetse fly, who knows. •g• You don't have to worry, everyone •will• meet in the end. I guess. Or rather those who make it through this story alive... Yes, I do know that I'm evil and sadistic. •g•

Well, once again, thank you very much for your patience. You have all been very kind and understanding! •huggles everyone except Jazmin3 Firewing•