It's an Odd Coincidence
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize.
R-Cleberg: I can see Logan and Éomer becoming friends, after a few initial confrontations. It'll be quite interesting to see how the Wolverine gets on with the rest of Middle Earth as well. Thanks for the review.
Chapter 28: Of Wizards and Wizards
The smell of damp leaf mould, mingled with fresh greenery, was quite cloying, at least to the Wolverine's keen senses. How he was supposed to track anything in here, he couldn't tell. Still, there was no harm in trying to sniff out a scent trail. The hobbits must have left something, right? Unfortunately, they found nothing, apart from those strange footprints. Just how many toes did that thing have anyway?
It was becoming more and more difficult to see. It had not been bright in the forest in the first place, and with night approaching, they were soon going to become lost in the dark if they did not head back soon. However, how could they leave when they hadn't found any signs of their friends yet?
"Are we gonna follow those tracks?" asked the Wolverine. Well, they had to do something else other than mope around here, trying to figure out what happened, right? Besides, he had the feeling that if they followed those footprints, they would be able to find Merry and Pippin, and then those two could tell them what had transpired. It was so simple and straightforward.
"Not tonight," said Aragorn. "It grows late, and I think we should make camp here, or else we will find ourselves lost beneath the eaves of this forest. I do not know how you feel about it, but I for one feel that we will be more able to continue our search should we rest adequately tonight."
"And what about Merry and Pippin?" said Logan. "For all we know, they could've become dino food!"
"If you explain what a 'die-no' is, Logan, then maybe we can tell you just how likely that is," said Legolas. Was the elf smirking at him? How could he smirk at a time like this? Logan was being completely serious about it.
"Dinosaurs are giant lizards with sharp teeth, and they eat people," said Logan impatiently. "Well, not really people precisely, since they went extinct before there were people, but hypothetically, if we saw one now, it wouldn't hesitate to eat us, if it's a carnivore.
"If they are extinct, then we should not have to worry about them eating Merry or Pippin," said the elf. "Why are you so concerned?"
"Because while they might be extinct in my world, how do I know they're extinct here?"
"I have lived in Middle Earth for many centuries," said Legolas, "and while I have encountered giant spiders, wolves, and other unnatural creatures of the dark, I have yet to see such a lizard." He turned to the others, or more specifically, the ranger. "You have travelled the length and breadth of Middle Earth, Aragorn. Have you encountered such a creature?"
"Indeed, I have not," said Aragorn. "Nor have I heard anyone speak of one, not even Gandalf or my father. Therefore, I must conclude that they do not exist."
"But what about the giant footprints?" demanded Logan. He was not about to give up so easily. "If a dinosaur didn't make them, then it could be a 'bell-rock', or a troll, or...something!"
"If it is indeed a Balrog, which I think it is not, then we would see it," said Legolas. "Charring is a characteristic sign that a Balrog has been somewhere."
"Besides, these are not troll tracks," said Aragorn. "Logan, trust me. I know what I am doing. We all need a rest, and I think a fire will do us some good. We cannot rescue Merry and Pippin if we are half-dead." It sounded so sensible that Logan couldn't think of any rebuttal to that; what made it more difficult was the fact that it was all true. Boromir definitely needed a rest. Aragorn looked absolutely haggard. Gimli was getting increasingly grumpy. Was Legolas sounding a little strained? He didn't really care about what Victor felt, and as for himself...well, sleep sounded wonderful. He couldn't deny that.
"I shall go and gather wood for a fire," said Gimli. "I think we shall have need of a little light and warmth in these dark times, and in such a dark place too." He hadn't even finished his sentence when that strange groaning started, and it was so loud that it sounded like a herd of wailing...elephants. "I mean, charming," said the dwarf quickly. "Dark can be quite charming. I don't mind dark places, or forests..."
"Geez, I can't believe you have to lower yourself to placate a bunch of trees," said Logan. He really didn't like the feel of this place, and he couldn't wait until they could get out. He watched as Gimli gathered dead wood from the forest floor, taking care not to venture too close to the trees —a rather impossible feat inside a forest, but one did have to give the dwarf credit for trying.
Victor had never been to this part of Fangorn before. He was not fond of the forest at the very best. Right now, however, it was making him feel uneasy, and that was saying a lot. Hardly anything intimidated him. In fact, back in his own world, nothing intimidated him. He had scorned all and feared none. Then he had been thrown —literally— into this world where trees groaned and wizards bred armies of dark creatures and where there were things more sinister and dangerous than he was. Well, he understood it better than he had before, but much of this world was still a mystery to him. He had heard wild tales concerning Fangorn; snippets of whispered conversations between Dunlendings, orcish mutterings, and veiled hints from Saruman. The wizard had tried his best to keep the Sabretooth in the dark about his new environment, but as always, Victor had found a way, and a new master.
The Sabretooth stared into the gloom surrounding them, taking note of every rustle and every crack. He took no part in the others conversations, preferring just to listen to them to find out more. They still did not trust him, which was wise of them, but most inconvenient for him. He had heard enough of those blasted Halflings. What of the other two? What were their names again? Sam...and someone. None of them mentioned the other's name. Half the time, the elf and the ranger were speaking in some infernal language which Victor could not identify. And to make things even more difficult, Logan didn't demand any explanations, which was unusual. Wait, he was dozing.
"The trees are moving," said the elf all of a sudden. Beside Victor, Logan jerked awake and the claws immediately came out.
"You do not want to be doing that," said the ranger, indicating the Wolverine's glinting claws. "This place is no friend of those who seek to harm its inhabitants."
"If there's a tree comin' for me, then I'd rather be ready," said Logan.
"The trees are merely glad for the warmth of our fire," said the elf, as if that was the most normal thing in the world. Victor had to side with little Jimmy on this one. These trees were not friendly, and he would rather those adamantium claws were out.
"So you're tryin' to tell me that these trees wanna be burned?"
An angry groan rose. The branches of the trees shook and the ground vibrated with their anger. Apparently, they did not like the Wolverine's idea. Logan seemed to realize what he had done and, in a decidedly un-Wolverine-like fashion, retracted the claws. The moaning and groaning of the trees took a while to die down, but eventually, they became quiet again.
"If you do not provoke them, they will not harm you," said the elven prince. He seemed to regard that as nothing more than a slightly inconvenient interruption to their conversation. In fact, he seemed a little delighted at the trees' show of force.
"I provoke everyone," said Logan. "You know that. And now, it seems I provoke trees as well. What next?"
"Rocks?" suggested Boromir.
"I wouldn't rule that out entirely," muttered the Wolverine.
Apart from the incident with the angry trees, Logan had to say that the night was progressing smoothly; well, as smoothly as it could be in forest full of moving murderous trees. If only he could actually relax enough to sleep. Actually, no one else was sleeping very well. Some of them tried to pretend to sleep, but eventually, they gave up. "I'm gonna go and scout the area," Logan said as he got up and brushed the leaves from his jeans. Doing anything was better than sitting there and listening to all the strange voices, all the while wondering how Merry and Pippin were faring out there all by themselves, or in the company of some strange, yet unknown creature.
"Do not venture too far," said Aragorn. "We do not know what is out there."
"I'm prepared for all eventualities," said Logan. "I've got these." He waved his hand at the others. He liked to remind them of what he was, although it was highly unlikely that they would have forgotten.
"Not all things in Middle Earth can be dealt with using claws alone," said Boromir. "You should be careful."
"I'm always careful," said Logan. "If I see anythin', I'll report right back to ya...uh...cap'n."
"Which one?" asked Aragorn. "All of us have been captains at one point or another."
"Why don't you fight it out and then tell me who's captain of this little unit when I get back?" suggested Logan. "Might as well do somethin' with your time instead o' just sittin' here an' broodin' like a couple of old women."
"Of course," replied the ranger without even a moment's hesitation. "I will just sit here and brood like the old man I am."
"Your eighty-seven years ain't anythin' compared to my century and a half. Or something like that," said Logan.
"However, to someone normal, that is a lifetime," said Boromir.
"Neither of you have the right to call yourselves old," said Legolas, "for you are naught but children compared to me."
"Yeah, yeah, rub it in, gramps," said Logan. "I won't be gone for long."
He was relying on his hearing and his sense of smell to guide him. There was so little light that all he could see were vague dark shapes. Their campfire was still in sight, so that was good, and the trees were being helpful for once. They made their angry sounds whenever Logan got too near to one of them. So far, so good; there was nothing out here, except for those hostile trees, and he'd already known about them. The leaves crackled beneath his boots, and more often than not, he found himself tripping over tree roots. The Wolverine had a great suspicion that these trees were out to get him; they were sticking their roots in his way on purpose. Trees in New York didn't do that, but he wouldn't put it past the trees in Middle Earth, especially not after his previous experiences with them.
A breeze blew towards him, and he caught a whiff of...something. Technically, it wasn't unpleasant —after everything he had ever smelled in his life, a little body odour didn't affect him at all— but it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on their ends. If he had been a canine, his hackles would have been raised. Indeed, he had to resist the urge to let out a warning growl. He narrowed his eyes, and then sniffed again. It didn't smell like an animal—too clean. So it had to be humanoid. He dared not say 'human' with much certainty, considering the type of creatures which roamed Middle Earth. It wasn't an orc either, so that had to be a good thing. However, the scent was unnatural, as if there was something else other than biological matter. Definitely not cologne. He made out a shape which was more or less similar to that of a man's, or rather, the silhouette of a Ku Klux Klan member for, whoever it was, they wore some form of pointed headgear.
It was then that Logan decided to pretend that he had seen nothing and go back to his friends. That way, whoever was out there would not think that they had raised Logan's suspicions. Considering the fact that the Wolverine was not the best actor, and his instincts were telling him to chase after that stranger, it was not easy to achieve, but he thought he did a pretty good job. There were no snarls, no growls; he didn't even ball his fists.
"Did you see anything?" asked Gimli.
"More like smelled," said Logan. "But yeah, there's something out there. I think it's sentient."
"You're not bein' helpful, y'know," said Victor. "We know there's somethin' out there. The question is what's out there."
"Why don't you tell me yourself?" retorted Logan. "You have a nose and, I hope, some sort of organ which can process information."
"You sure you want to be challenging my intelligence when you're the one who can't give the answer to a simple question?" said Victor.
"I do not think Victor has any need to smell him out," said Aragorn. "See, he is here." Standing some distance away, at the very edge of the light cast by their small campfire, was a hunched figure draped in a shapeless grey cloak. The figure leaned against a gnarled staff, and on his head was a pointed hat. By the dim light, Logan could see a long grey beard. Or was it white? It was hard to tell.
"That seemingly-sentient being of Logan's looks like an old man to me," whispered Legolas.
"Come off it, Mister Super-Sight," muttered the Wolverine. "Smells don't have 'old man' written all over them. Besides, he didn't smell like any man I've ever smelled before."
"What can we do for you, father?" called Aragorn. When the old man did not respond, he continued. "Come and ward off the cold by our fire, if you will." The stranger said nothing. Instead, he turned around and with speed which belied his appearance, he disappeared into the darkness once more and was lost to them, leaving all of them confused, save for one.
"I wouldn't blame Logan for his oversight," said Victor. His voice was so soft that it was barely audible. Only his brother and Legolas could hear him. However, no one could mistake his tension. He had taken a defensive stance. The Sabretooth was preparing for a fight. "This isn't just any old man."
"What is he?" asked Logan.
"Wizard," growled Victor.
"What wizard?" asked Logan. "Are we talking about Merlin, or that Harry Potter boy, or what?"
"Middle Earth ain't got that many wizards," said Victor, "and only one of them lives in this area."
Silence fell over the whole company. Most of them were dismayed; one of them was confused. "So...which wizard is this?" asked Logan.
"Saruman, I believe," said Victor.
That unexpected run-in with one of the most notorious characters in Middle Earth, barring the Dark Lord himself, meant that none of them were able to sleep any more that night. When a pale colourless morning dawned, Logan felt more irritable than ever. Merry and Pippin were still nowhere to be found, and he was cold, damp, and hungry. The 'limp bass' bread didn't do much to fill the emptiness which he was feeling inside him. He wanted something more substantial, like a nice juicy steak with black pepper sauce and a side of buttered roast potatoes. Even jerky would have been better than just that elvish bread.
"What's the next step?" said the Wolverine, licking the last of the crumbs from his fingers. He might not like the stuff, but it was all he was going to get. If he could have gotten a bit more, then maybe he wouldn't have minded so much, but apparently, he was only supposed to have one measly little bite.
"We need our horses if we are to follow those tracks," said Aragorn. "Considering the distance between each print, I think whatever made them would be many miles from here by now, and we do not know if it does know where Merry and Pippin are. If it does not, or if it is disinclined to be helpful, then it would be useful to have some form of transport. I might be known as Strider in some places, but that does not mean I enjoy marching for days on end without rest."
"So it's back to the nasty nag again," muttered Logan to himself. He hated that horse; the feeling was mutual. His horse didn't like him either. If the creature hadn't been inclined to follow all the other horses, the Wolverine had no doubt that it would have run off in the other direction and then thrown him against a rock or something. It certainly had that scheming look in its eyes, no matter what the others might say.
"You just need to become friends with your horse," said Boromir. "A warrior's steed is his best companion on the battlefield. Believe me, many a soldier lived because his steed reacted appropriately to attack."
"That's not exactly somethin' I have to think about, is it?" said Logan. "It's not like I need a giant herbivore to watch my back."
"Indeed, you probably do not," conceded Boromir, "but you cannot deny that your horse travels at a much quicker pace, and it does not get half as grumpy as you do when there is a lack of meat and ale."
"It's grumpy enough to me," said Logan. A shout in front of them interrupted their fascinating conversation concerning how to keep horses happy —honestly, Logan did not see why any mode of transport should be worth so much trouble.
"The horses!" That was Legolas. "They are gone!" What? Had some deity up there been listening in on Logan's thoughts and decided to solve his dilemma? That would be a first. Usually, God —or the gods...whatever— left him alone to deal with his problems, if there were such things as supernatural entities living up there somewhere, and they probably thought it was fun to gloat at pathetic human beings as they struggled to survive. Why else would they have let the world go on the path of self-destruction?
They arrived at the edge of the clearing. The horses, the ropes and the pegs were gone. "How is this possible?" said Aragorn as he looked down at what was left; five holes in the ground where the pegs had been. "They dragged out their pegs themselves. What could have made them do such a thing?"
"Maybe they hated the forest as much as some of us did," said Logan.
"If that is the case, then my respect for those creatures have grown," said Gimli. "They are more sensible than I had thought."
"But we should have known what they were doing," said Legolas. "One of us would have heard them, surely. I remember hearing them earlier on, and they were quite content, considering the place we chose for them. There was more than enough grass. Did you not hear them, Logan?"
"Um...no?" said the Wolverine. "I guess I wasn't paying attention." That was true. Horses had been the least of his worries last night. Those trees were enough to distract anyone, with all their moaning and groaning. And then there was that old man... "Do you think it has something to do with that wizard we saw last night?"
"I do not know," said Aragorn, "and it worries me."
"Well, come on," said Logan. "It should be easy. Just look for some prints on the ground or something. Every movement leaves a trace, at least when science applies. Of course, if that guy was a wizard, then he's probably not all that scientific. Then again, they thought science was magic back in the old days... I'm rambling, aren't I?"
"I understood approximately half of what you said," said Aragorn. "It is a vast improvement on my part. However, even if he did leave a footprint, it would be very difficult to find it on this springy grass. At any rate, our main concern is not the fate of the horses, but rather the fate of our friends."
"And we're back to relying on the feet we were born with," said Gimli. "I have to say, that these are the best feet I will ever encounter. They always listen to me, and unless I am very careless, they'll probably not run away from me, unlike a horse."
In the light of day, Fangorn Forest seemed a little less intimidating. There were different shades of green instead of just one overwhelming mass of dark leaves separating them from the pale grey sky. However, that did not mean it smelled any different, and the cloying scent of rotting plant material was becoming more and more disagreeable by the moment. It was so humid in there that Logan half-imagined he was drowning from the sheer amount of water vapour in the air. Yes, he was exaggerating, but that helped him to take his mind off other more worrying things, such as the fate of Merry and Pippin. Were they still alive? Were they hurt? Would they ever find them? At least if he was busy complaining about the unpleasantness of the forest, he would not have to have those questions playing over and over again inside him mind like a broken recording.
He was lagging behind with Boromir again, as usual. When it came to reading tracks and looking for clues, they preferred to leave Aragorn and Legolas to it. Logan relied on his sense of smell, which was being impeded by the rotting plant material in the forest, and Boromir was a soldier. His place was on the battlefield and walls of fortresses. As for Victor, he travelled slightly apart from the rest of the group, brooding and silent like a prowling predator waiting for the right time to strike.
A few stray rays of cold sunlight filtered through the thick canopy, illuminating the clouds of steam issuing from their mouths with each breath. The tracks of that giant creature were still easy to find, and they led them to a small burbling brook, only about three feet wide and very clear. A few birds were singing, and Logan fancied he could hear a squirrel somewhere. Then his ears twitched involuntarily, for he had picked up another sound; something which sounded very much like bipedal footsteps, and it wasn't made by anyone he could see.
Apparently, Legolas had also noticed that they were not alone, for he suddenly stopped and scanned their surroundings with narrowed eyes. "There," he said. "Do you see him?"
"See what?" said Gimli. The dwarf craned his neck and peered in the direction Legolas was pointing at. "I do not see anything."
"The old man," replied Legolas. "See him there? He is cloaked in grey, and his hat is pointed, just like Gandalf's. He resembles Gandalf, but I cannot be certain that he is our old friend."
"Gandalf fell down the bridge," said Logan. "He can't just come back like nothin's happened."
"It's Saruman!" hissed Gimli. "Legolas, shoot him! What are you waiting for?"
"I cannot shoot an unarmed old man just because he resembles the White Wizard," said Legolas. "Look, he is coming towards us first. Perhaps we should stay our judgement until we can make more observations."
"Isn't it better to be safe than sorry?" said Logan. Legolas shook his head.
"I will not risk shooting an innocent man," said the elf.
"Oh geez. If we get fried by a wizard, it's your fault." Logan couldn't help but feel uncomfortable, even if he knew that Legolas was right to ask questions first before shooting. He couldn't help it; this need to attack the enemy was instinctive. The old man was coming towards them now at an unnaturally fast pace for someone of his age. He was as nimble as any warrior, and he did not seem to be tired at all.
"Hello there!" he called to the company of hunters. "I wish to speak with you on important matters! Will you come over here, or shall I go over there?" When they made no answer, the old man simply continued. "Well, since you do not seem to feel inclined to come here, then I shall have to go over to where you are, for I do not fancy shouting to you forever." With that, he swiftly made his way over, clambering over rocks as if he had the agility and strength of a man in his prime. Which he probably did, but still, it looked unnatural for old men in grey cloaks with great white beards to be doing this. It was a little like watching the Pope scale the leaning tower of Pisa using only a rope and a climbing harness, not that Logan had ever seen such a spectacle.
"It's Saruman!" shouted Gimli. "Quickly, Legolas! Shoot him now! Shoot him now!"
"Stay your hand!" called the wizard. "And put down that bow, Master Elf. I said I wanted to speak to you, and that is no way to greet someone who is about to relay great news to you. I thought your father would have taught you better. And Logan, you can put those claws away now. Your first attack on me failed, and I can be quite certain that your second will follow the same path."
"Who the hell are you?" demanded the Wolverine. He was not about to retract his claws just because some wizard said so. Heck, maybe it was because this was a wizard that he was keeping his claws out, just in cases. He didn't trust this guy, whoever he really was. Unfortunately, just as the old man was about the answer the question, Gimli seemed to think that he had had enough. The dwarf launched his throwing axes at the old man, who, with a flash of light, intercepted their path and sent them flying in completely different directions, all without touching anything.
"For the love of the Valar, will you let an old man speak before you attempt to kill him?" said the wizard. "It is awfully rude to kill the messenger before you even hear the message." Logan's claws retracted voluntarily. He wasn't aware of it, nor did he truly care, for he was gaping at the old man. It couldn't be. It really couldn't be. It was impossible, against the laws of science, and yet... The old man threw off his shapeless grey cloak to reveal the brilliant white robes beneath it. They were so bright that it almost hurt to look at them. The colour of his beard and his clothes were different, but apart from that, there could be no mistake.
"Mithrandir!" cried Legolas. His alarm turned into utter joy. A wide grin appeared on his face as he stepped forward, dropping his bow and the arrow he had been about to put to the string. "Gandalf!"
"And it is good to see you too, Legolas," said the wizard.
"But...but..." said Logan. "You died. I mean, this is impossible! I'm hallucinating... You're not Jesus, are you?"
"Indeed, I am not," said Gandalf. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
A/N: The chapter is still a little shorter than usual. Next week's will be back to normal length; I promise. I'm just still preoccupied with assignments. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. If you find any mistakes, please tell me. When it's five in the morning, it's a little hard to find all of them.
