AN: I would like to say again I love to receive your reviews, it let's me know you are still reading my story. They motivate me and I use them to feed my muse.
Disclaimer: I've checked my bank account and I am still broke, so as always, with the exception of original characters and plotline, I own none of this; it belongs to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien.
Previously:
As he found his horse and mounted up, Jobel noticed Tommas was also missing from the battlefield. At that moment he was convinced Raun did in fact leave and took his compatriot with him.
'How convenient,' thought the big man, 'I do not have to fight the elves for the boy, I can take him from Raun!'
With that thought Jobel turned his horse and headed down the trail, for he knew where his quarry was headed, Dírhael's stronghold. He did not need to track them because of course, having been a supposed loyal supporter of the Lord; he knew the location of the stronghold. He galloped away leaving the sounds of battle behind him.
Chapter 36—Long Days, Rough Nights
"Damn!" cursed Jobel, as another branch stung his cheek.
After ridding himself of the arrogant elf soldier, amongst the confusion, he easily slipped away from the battlefield. Although he knew the way to the stronghold, he tried to follow the trail left by Raun and Tommas, in the hopes that he could catch them before they reached their destination.
A sick smile spread across Jobel's ugly face, as he thought of what he would do to the pair, when he caught them. He knew if he rode hard enough he could catch them before the duo reached the secured valley. If he could do that, he need not face the rest of Dírhael's forces, only Raun and Tommas.
The smile turned to a revolting laugh, as his thoughts turned to the youngster and what he would do to him, after he did away with the other men. He would take his time dealing with the child, drawing out the pain and getting as much pleasure from it as possible. He would get his revenge!
As if provoked by the unnerving laugh, another large bough snapped back and struck the back of Jobel's head, nearly unseating him from his horse. Another obscenity slipped past the big man's lips, as he held his aching head. It seemed as if the forest was conspiring against him.
As he left the battle behind him, the traveling was easy, as he effortlessly followed the tracks left by his foes. At first the path was wide and the trees sat back from the trail's edge, making the passage easy. Eventually, the further he traveled the closer the trees got and the eerier things became.
Initially it was just the foliage. When the original limb snapped back and struck his face and drew blood he did not give it much thought. Nor did he think about the first root that caused his horse to stumble. Who would think a tree would try and hurt you? But the first was followed by a second and a third and eventually more than he cared to count, too many to be just a coincidence.
The trees were joined in their efforts by the bushes. They too slapped at his skin, using their stickers to cut into the fabric of clothes and cut the skin underneath. Worse they seemed to choke off the trail ahead of him, forcing him to detour into the forest, where the trees could inflict more damage.
"Ouch!" he cried out, as another insect bit his neck. If his problems with the shrubbery were not enough, it seemed every bug in these damnable woods was called to him and found him delicious.
Last but not least was the wind itself. It seemed each time he cleared the trees; a breeze would pick up and blow dirt into his face, getting into his eyes and temporarily blinding him. In addition it went down his collar, making him uncomfortable, sticking to his sweaty skin and causing him to scratch.
'Am I crazy or is the forest trying to kill me?' thought Jobel, as he slapped at yet another gnat.
It was after emerging from the forest, after one of the dreaded detours, that Jobel realized he lost Raun and Tommas' tracks. He tried to go back but the bushes closed behind him, refusing admittance. When he finally stepped back onto the trail, there were no tracks in any direction and no sign of his quarry.
With a sigh, Jobel turned his horse towards his former lord's garrison, hoping he could make it there before the pair he chased. If he could catch them before they entered, he still stood some kind of chance of retrieving the elf child.
Many miserable hours in the saddle later, the sun slowly dipped behind the horizon and the boughs overhead created a woven shadow pattern on the ground below. The gloom amongst the trees grew impenetrable, defying a man's ability to see. The noises of the night steadily increased, causing a shiver of trepidation to climb up Jobel's spine.
He really did not wish to spend a night amongst the trees, not after the day he spent riding through them. He feared if he lay his head down amongst the greenery, he would not awake with the morn. He truly believed nature had it in for him.
As it grew ever blacker, he knew he would have no choice. He was growing weary, and he could not see in the dark. No matter how much he detested the idea, he needed to find a place to rest for the night. Though watching closely for some shelter, Jobel did not find anything and continued into the nighttime.
Further along the trail, the big man jerked awake after falling asleep in the saddle. He reined in his horse, turned him from the trail and headed for a small cluster of trees and bushes, a short distance from the path. Though the spot did not offer a lot of camouflage from prying eyes, it was not out in the open and offered a place to tether his mount.
He stiffly climbed from the back of the animal and after stretching, removed the saddle.
Though he knew the importance of a horse in the wild, he carelessly saw to the needs of his mount, quickly rubbing the gelding down and giving it a few oats.
After finishing, he picked up and moved his saddle and belongings into the concealment of the bushes a few feet away. After rolling out his bedroll, Jobel sat down and pulled some jerky and nuts from his saddlebags. Having nothing to occupy his time, Jobel's thoughts began to drift towards his final conversation with Lord Lirdon and the consequences if he failed in his mission.
After surviving his "punishment" session, Jobel was certain things could not get any worse for him. Things were bad when he returned to the castle after failing at his mission. He was sure things could get no worse when he was forced to endure the tender loving mercies of Lirdon's master of torture, Hektor. Unfortunately he found out he was wrong when he was forced to return to the barracks and face the scorn of his comrades, who were ruthless. They could plainly see the mark of his failure clearly burned onto his face and were never going to allow him to forget it.
But he had been wrong…horribly wrong.
The worst came when he faced Lord Lirdon the next day. His lord was very displeased and he made sure Jobel understood it.
The big man swayed on his feet in front of Lirdon's huge desk. Between the combined affects of exhaustion and torture, Jobel was nearly out on his feet. He was still wearing the clothes he arrived in, and had yet to bathe or shave, in short he was unpleasant to be around.
Leaning back in his chair, Lirdon took a deep breath and closed his eyes, before slowly exhaling. After a moment his cold, ice blue eyes opened, revealing the anger he felt inside, as he unhurriedly sat forward in his chair. Lirdon slowly took stock of the pathetic man in front of him. This was HIS man, an individual that failed him one too many times and paid for it.
Jobel felt his anxiety rise as Lirdon stared at him and did not say a thing. His anger and displeasure were still clearly written upon his features. It appeared a night's sleep did nothing to dim the fury within his lord.
Finally Lirdon said softly, "You have failed me."
"I am sorry milord."
"Sorry is not enough," replied Lirdon, "you meddled in my plans, to exact your own revenge."
Electing to stay quiet, the big man lowered his gaze to floor and waited for his lord to continue. He did not have to wait long, "You are a wretched excuse for a soldier," snarled Lirdon. After a moment he added, "Unfortunately I must assign to you another task."
"Milord?"
"Aye," answered Lirdon, "Another task. Tis a chance to redeem yourself."
Trying to stand up straight in front of his lord and failing miserably, Jobel said, "Thank you my liege."
"If I had a choice I would assign it to another and leave you to Hektor's devices," Lirdon informed the man, and was rewarded by seeing the big man cringe, "but you are the only one who knows the way to Dírhael's valley."
"Aye," agreed Jobel.
"You will lead another force to the valley," said the lord, "and return here with the elf child."
"If we encounter resistance?"
"Take care of it," answered Lirdon, as he waved a hand dismissively, before adding, "Only bring me the child whole and alive."
The pleasure Jobel felt at the thought of exacting revenge on Raun, could not be dampened by the knowledge that he could not hurt the child and he smiled slightly.
The look of pleasure on Jobel's features ignited a flash of rage in Lirdon's soul. He jumped from his chair and rounded the edge of the desk in a flash. Grabbing the man's collar, he choked the large man as he pulled him close, their faces nearly touching. Softly and deliberately he enunciated, "This is not about your pleasure or revenge!" Glaring into Jobel's eyes, he added, "Fail me again and you shall truly understand the meaning of pain."
Unable to speak as his air was cut off and he turned blue, Jobel said nothing. Instead his lord continued, "Do not succeed and I shall see to your punishment myself!"
Still unable to breathe, the only thing Jobel could do was gurgle in response. Grinning Lirdon informed his victim, "Though I kept a few things to myself, I taught Hektor everything he knows. I shall take great pleasure in using those secrets to slowly and carefully rid myself of you!"
Even as the edge of his vision dimmed and he slowly started losing consciousness, Jobel heard his lord add, "With as much pain as possible!" His heart filled with terror, for he knew if one person's cruelty outpaced Hektor's, it was their lord's! The big man was sure he would not survive such an encounter.
The angry lord released his hold as he shoved his man to the ground. Landing on his backside, Jobel struck the floor hard but did not attempt to rise. Instead he held his injured throat as Lirdon stood over him.
"Fail me again and there shall be no more opportunities!"
"I shall not Lord Lirdon," croaked Jobel.
"See that you do not," replied the angry lord as he turned and returned to his seat.
As the big man painfully got to his feet, Lirdon said, "Now leave my sight. You stink!"
"Aye milord," responded Jobel as he staggered towards the door.
Closing the door behind him, he heard Lirdon order, "Take a bath!"
Jobel was absentmindedly rubbing his neck as the memory faded. He could not fall short or the consequences would be dire. Returning to his lord if he failed was not an option. He would get the child or die in the attempt.
He was roused from his musings by a stinging sensation on his leg, followed closely by another. "Damn!" he growled as he swatted at his leg.
A moment later he nearly screamed when his skin felt as if it were on fire! The stinging sensation covered him from head to foot. Looking at his hands, Jobel realized he was covered in fire ants! Jumping up, Jobel danced around as he attempted to swat the tiny bugs off.
With no care for his safety and scratching the whole way, Jobel ran to a small creek that was nearby. He was hopping on one foot as he approached the water's edge, failing miserably in his attempt to pull his right boot off. When his offending footwear finally came loose, his momentum caused him to fall to the ground and strike his tailbone on an exposed rock. Due to the insect bites, he did not even feel the pain in his backside.
Hurriedly yanking off his left boot, he threw it over his shoulder, where it joined the other. Making quick work of his leggings, he jumped up and fumbled with the closures on his shirt. Having to stop every few seconds to swat at a bug or scratch a bite, he was wretchedly failing at removing the garment. Eventually, he gave up and pulled it over his head. His chausses and undergarments quickly joined the growing pile of clothes.
Finally free of the encumbrances, Jobel jumped into the creek and lay down, before submerging himself in the icy water. He sighed, as he at last found some relief and the water numbed the burning sensation.
'How can something so small, cause so much pain?' wondered Jobel as he floated contentedly in the chilly water for a while. Eventually the numbing cold forced him from the creek.
Standing on the shore, Jobel checked his injuries and found his whole body was dotted with small white lumps. Pus oozed from one bite after he pushed on it. Hissing with pain, he attempted to leave the rest alone, though the itching slowly returned.
Returning to his clothes, the frigid wind forced Jobel to put them back on while still damp. He carefully shook out each garment, ensuring there were no ants lurking inside, before carefully putting it back on. He stood and stomped his boots on, before heading back to camp. Though the creek was well within view of his campsite, he was shivering upon his return.
Having already decided to move his bedroll to a safer location, Jobel picked up his blankets with stiff fingers. He took the time to shake them out, making sure no more ants were inside. Throwing his blankets over his shoulder, he next retrieved his saddlebags and was ready to move.
With the ground exposed, a quick glance showed him what the problem had been—a crushed ant mound. It would have been directly under his blankets. When he lay down, he aroused the small creatures and they moved to defend their home.
Snorting in disgust, he finished the job and trampled the mound into oblivion. He moved to the other side of the small grove and found a different spot to spend the night, a safer location he hoped. He did a survey of the ground, looking for more ant holes. Finding none, he put down his saddlebags and reorganized his bedroll, before finally slipping beneath the blankets.
As he lay staring up at the stars, Jobel gritted his teeth as the little bites made themselves known. He gritted his teeth and tried desperately not to scratch, not wanting to cause more damage to his skin. Jobel was miserable and knew exactly who was to blame—Raun! The man was the cause to all his current troubles.
His eyelids finally started getting heavy and he slowly drifted into dreamland. His last thought as he drifted to sleep, 'Things cannot possibly get worse!'
OOOOOOO
They came back to haunt him in the form of a man—Arathorn…
He sat alone in the growing dark of his study, looking out a window and watching the sun set behind the mountains, painting the horizon in beautiful burnt oranges and soft crimson but he did not see it. The light in the room grew dimmer and he did not notice, nor care. Finally the sun disappeared and the room was plunged into darkness and still he did not budge.
He was consumed with thoughts of the past, of Arathorn and his precious daughter, Gilraen. The Ranger chieftain visited the valley and when he left for the final time, he took the light of Dírhael's life with him. In his mind's eye, he could still see Gilraen riding away, never to be seen again.
At first he opposed the union, when Arathorn first asked for Gilraen's hand in marriage. In his opinion, Arathorn, who was 56, was much too old and experienced for his sheltered 22 year old daughter. The expected lifespan of a Dúnedain did not matter to him, no man old enough to be his daughter's father was going to marry her! No amount of argument from the Ranger would convince him otherwise.
The next day Ivorwen came to him. The night before she had a vision and in her vision Gilraen was marrying Arathorn. They were together and happy. Ivorwen argued it was her daughter's destiny to marry the Chieftain of the Dúnedain Rangers and he could not stand in the way of it.
As soon as her mother left the room, Gilraen came in to make her pleas. She told her father she loved the older man and he loved her. He promised to protect and care for her and any children they may have. She argued, cajoled and finally begged her father to relent.
Sitting on her knees in front of her father, Gilraen asked, "Please Papa…" her big blue eyes, filled with tears, pleading with him to give his permission.
Dírhael's large calloused hands desperately clasped his daughter's soft, delicate ones. He did not want to let her go! He was terrified he would never see her again if he allowed her to go off into the wilds.
Looking at her pleading face Dírhael knew he was lost. He could never deny her anything and it appeared this instance was no different. Taking a deep breath, he broke eye contact and looked at the ceiling, before finally answering, "I give my permission for you to marry Arathorn."
With a squeal of delight, Gilraen jumped and hugged her father and whispered in his ear, "Thank you Papa! You shan't regret it!" Shortly thereafter she quickly left the room and loudly informed the household of his change of heart.
How wrong his little girl was. He regretted his decision every minute of every day. He lamented his choice when word of his child's death reached him. He bewailed it when his wife died of heartbreak only months later. He lived with nothing but regrets…
Hearing the door to his study creak open, Dírhael was broken from his reverie. He was surprised when he opened his eyes and found the room lit, for he had not heard anyone come in. Usually none dared when he was in one of his moods.
Looking towards the entry he saw a little head with a mop of brown hair, peek around the edge of the door. He saw surprise fill the blue eyes under the dark hair and then the head darted out of view, although the door did not close. The sound of a child breathing could be heard from beyond the door.
"Rallon," called Dírhael.
"Aye," he heard a soft voice whisper.
"Come here child."
A pair of eyes again peered around the door, seeming to assess his mood, before the small boy finally stepped into the room, though he stayed in the entry way and far away from Dírhael. He was wearing a nightshirt that reached just past his knees. He was clutching a well worn rabbit in one hand and an old blue blanket with the other.
"Over here little one," added Dírhael, when the child came no closer, "I do not bite."
When a doubtful look crossed the lad's face he began to wonder what the other children were saying about him. To reassure the frightened boy he added, "I promise."
Not daring to look at Lord Dírhael, Rallon watched the floor as he walked across the room and kept looking at the floor as he stood in front of said lord. The child did not say anything; instead he waited for Dírhael to speak.
"What is wrong child?"
"I miss my Papa," said Rallon softly, as he studied his toes.
Unable to understand, Dírhael replied, "You will have to speak up Rallon, these old ears could not hear you."
At last the little boy looked up and the lord could see the tears slowly falling down his cheeks, as he repeated, "I miss my Papa."
Reaching out, the old lord gently cupped a small cheek in one hand and tenderly wiped away a tear with his thumb, before saying, "I am sorry child, he had to go away for a while."
The tears came faster as Rallon asked, "Why?"
"He needed to complete a task for me."
"Could I not go too?"
"It was not safe little one."
"Why?" asked Rallon.
"There are many dangerous beasts lurking in the wilds," said Dírhael. In his thoughts he added, 'As you well know.'
"But I could help," countered Rallon.
"He wished you to stay here where it is safe," replied Dírhael, "where he would not worry for you."
Finally silent tears turned to sobs and Rallon declared, "But I need him!"
Unable to stop himself, Dírhael picked up the small boy and sat him in his lap. Rallon leaned against his chest and continued crying. Without realizing what he was doing, Dírhael started gently rubbing circles on the child's back and whispering words of comfort in his ear. After a few minutes the sobs slowly abated but the boy continued to seek solace in his arms.
"Does he not love me anymore?"
"What!" questioned a surprised Dírhael.
"He is always riding off and leaving me," explained Rallon, "Does he not love me?"
"Of course he does little one."
"Then why does he always leave me?"
'Always with the questions!' thought Dírhael, 'Just like Gilraen.'
"His work sometimes takes him far away," explained Dírhael, "but he always keeps you in his heart."
"I want him to stay home!" declared Rallon, his sapphire eyes full of fire and a stubborn look upon his face. "I want him to take care of me!"
'I have seen that look before!' thought the old lord yet again, 'And his blue eyes are the exact shade as Gilraen's were.'
He felt his heart slowly opening to the small child in his lap and he frantically tried to close it. He could not allow another little one into his heart; it would only lead to heartbreak. He could not stand to lose yet another loved one. He desperately attempted not to love the adorable child in his lap.
At last he answered the child, "I understand Rallon but sometimes he must leave."
"But I do not want him too!"
"I know."
Rallon leaned back in the man's arms and relaxed for a few minutes. As the silence stretched on, Dírhael began to think the boy fell asleep and was surprised when he asked, "Where did he go?"
Attempting to satisfy the child's curiosity, while providing as few details as possible, Dírhael answered, "To Rivendell."
The name 'Rivendell' did not slip past the boy unnoticed and he asked, "To see the elves?"
"Not exactly," hedged the dark-haired man.
"Then why did he go to Riv'dell?" questioned Rallon, "Is that not where Lord El'ond lives?"
"How did you know Rivendell is the home of Elrond?"
"Before I go to sleep each night my Papa tells me stories,' explained Rallon, "He told me of Riv'dell and the elves."
Nodding his understanding, Dírhael whispered, "Just like Gilraen."
Again Rallon sat quiet for a few moments before eventually asking, "Who is Gilraen?"
Sighing, he answered, "She was my daughter."
"Why have I not met her?"
Pain flashed in the older man's heart as he answered, "She died child."
"I am sorry."
"I know," reassured Dírhael, "You meant no harm."
"Nay."
After another silence, he informed the little boy sitting in his lap, "You remind me of her."
"How do I remind you of her?" questioned Rallon.
Smiling, Dírhael replied, "With your questions. She too loved to ask lots of questions."
"I do not ask a lot of questions!"
"Yes you do," the man countered, before adding, "And your eyes are the same color hers were."
"Papa says they were just like my Mama's too," Rallon informed Dírhael.
"I am sure they were," agreed Dírheal.
Snuggling back into the older man's comfortable arms, Rallon asked, "Why did they have to die?"
Surprised at the question, Dírhael could only ask, "Who child?"
"My Mama and your daughter," Rallon informed the man. Big blue eyes swimming with tears looked up at Dírhael's craggily face, and asked, "Did they not know we needed them?"
TBC