pologies for the very long delay in posting anything at all but I am sure you understand that Covid has just interrupted so many lives. Thankfully me and mine are all safe and well as I write and I hope yours too. Hopefully I can crack on with this now and will post more regularly. As a bonus, the next chapter is already written and beta'd so will post quickly.

Summary

Merry has been returned but has no memory of his sojourn with the strange Elf called Vanwë, who is Maglor. Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn do not yet know this and are still on their way to help with what they expect to be a search. Elrohir has found, and hidden the Palantir so it is still upon Amon Sul.

Chapter 11

Aragorn's heart lifted as the land became greener and the flatness of the great marshes and fens gave way to gentler rolling moorland. In the distance, the high ridge that was the beginning of the South Downs rose, and beyond it, the Barrow Downs. He wished he were simply travelling to see their friends, for he was enjoying travelling with Legolas and Gimli, but running beneath it was the fear for Merry and it spurred them on so they had travelled swiftly.

But they had run out of hard feed for the horses a while ago and had to let the horses graze for longer and longer. They had tired more quickly and the small company had begun to alternate between riding and walking to allow the horses some respite. Aragorn knew how unused to long journeys he had become and he was also finding it hard. His bones wanted rest. It was not an easy route either for although this was the great arterial route between Tharbad and the East Road, it had fallen into disrepair over the centuries and was reduced now to a mere track turned muddy in the rain in some places, and disappearing completely in others.

Arnor was indeed ruined, he thought sadly. But perhaps there was hope now and he might bring the same peace that Gondor enjoyed. And with it, prosperity. But here, there was no motivation for these disparate tribes and towns to acknowledge him. But the Lost Stone of Amon Sul would give him a chance to right a great wrong and might seal his right as the Army of the Dead had in the South. It might give him legitimacy.

Gimli was puffing slightly and Legolas, who never tired, had slowed his pace and was distracting the Dwarf from the arduous march with imagined slights. They had lost track of what they squabbled about, thought Aragorn wryly. He thought it may have started with the superiority of axe or bow, and when they had run out of that very well-worn argument, they had started on whether steel toed boots were better than light leather boots. And now they were on hills or mountains, caves or trees. Somewhere Legolas had forgotten what he was arguing and Gimli had said something complimentary about trees and tricked Legolas into a compliment about Anglarond.

'Aha! Caught you out!' Gimli shouted in delight. 'You just said the Great Crystal Hall is one of the most wonderous things you have ever seen!' he cried jubilantly.

Legolas laughed aloud. 'Very well,' he said good naturedly. 'It is true that I have rarely been so struck as I was when I saw those caverns for the first time.' And then, with a smile at Aragorn, he added, 'And it is true that the Great Crystal Chamber is one of the Wonders of the Earth.' He said it like he was conferring a title upon it and Aragorn saw how Gimli sped up a little and that Legolas tilted his head slightly towards the Dwarf and slanted a smile towards him.

It gladdened Aragorn too and as he turned back to the road, Roheryn plodding along beside him companionably. He thought that Gimli must be reassured that there was nothing to worry about with Legolas after all; the Dwarf had been alarmed by Legolas' violence, as he saw it, towards the werewolves, although Aragorn knew all too well what would have happened had they not beheaded the corpses. But it was a brutal sight nonetheless. Besides, they were all worried enough about Merry without worrying about each other.

Rain came.

They watched it draw over the high ground ahead of them, knowing they had no choice but walk towards it as the skies darkened and became heavy. It began as a persistent drizzle and got heavier so that Aragorn shook out his old oilskin and tucked it over his saddle and bags and Roheryn's rump. They dared not take shelter for they were so close now and felt the pull of Merry's plight on their hearts. Soon the travellers were soaked through. It made for a miserable march but they drew closer to the South Downs, and as Aragorn trudged beside Roheryn, he realised that he was closer to Imladris than he had been for two years.

Home.

Of course, Arwen was home. And she now was in Gondor. His heart gave a little thump and he knew he had a soppy smile on his face. Remembering the years and years and years of longing, of waiting, of Arwen's impatience and his own gentle insistence that they wait in honour of her father. He smiled now for he felt he had deprived himself of much enjoyment… and dwelled a little on exactly what he enjoyed…

He became aware that Legolas and Gimli had drawn abreast of him and through the rain, he could see on their face were identical grins.

'You were right, Legolas,' said Gimli with elaborate graciousness, 'I will concede.'

'It's his Arwen face,' said Legolas laughing. 'A bit goofy, and there's a little bit of drool on his chin.'

Instinctively Aragorn's hand flew to his chin but there was nothing, and it merely made Legolas laugh more loudly. Arod danced and nudged Gimli with his nose, and Gimli did not complain for he was so used to the silliness of both the horse and its rider and would not give either the satisfaction.

They continued on foot through the rain until they reached a crossroads. Slowly the clouds had been clearing all the while and now the rain eased and they could see the Greenway veering off Northwards.

'This is the road to Bree and from thence, the great East Road which we could follow into The Shire. Buckland is some miles over the bridge and along the Baranduin, or the Brandywine as the Hobbits call it,' Aragorn said, looking up along the Greenway. Arod wandered up to Aragorn and stood at his shoulder, looking thoughtfully into the distance as if Aragorn were discussing this with him rather than his companions.

'But the road has deteriorated so much that perhaps it would be quicker along the old North Road,' Aragorn said, nodding towards the left hand fork. He pulled the oilskin off Roheryn's saddle and shook it out. The saddle and saddlebags beneath were dry. 'It leads to Sarn Ford,' he continued, folding the oilskin away. Roheryn gave a patient sigh and shifted to rest one hoof, dropping his head to tear hungrily at the long grass.

'From there we could cross the open moor and perhaps strike the Causeway that runs along the Baranduin to the Buckland Ferry. It will take us to Buckland from the other direction.' Aragorn paused for a moment for he had not been this way since the Nazgul had crossed it, searching for The Ring. It seemed a lifetime ago.

'Well, distance-wise, they are much of a muchness,' said Gimli, 'and though it is in disrepair, I still think the Greenway is an easier road and so quicker I think. Is it not marshy around the Causeway? I seem to recall Merry telling us of it.'

'Yes, the Marsh,' said Legolas with surprising knowledge. 'Unless you know the path through it, Aragorn, I agree with Gimli. And in Bree, we may hear news of our friends,' he continued. 'Does Merry not have relatives in Bree? A cousin I think? They will have heard something at least.'

'Indeed, the young rascal may well have simply turned up,' Gimli grunted in agreement. 'I do not know what the Hobbits will think of three Big Folk turning up like this when we get to Buckland,' he said, unaware of the look his companions exchanged and they did not smile or laugh at him. 'I think I had best go first and introduce myself.' He stroked his beard thoughtfully, 'and you two stay out of sight until I have found one of our friends and ascertained what they have found.'

Aragorn grinned, for Gimli had often enjoyed telling the tale of how Thorin's company had introduced themselves in such a way to Beorn. But Aragorn himself had also decreed that Men had no admittance to The Shire and so perhaps Gimli's idea was not so bad?

'Oh!' Legolas' eyes widened suddenly. 'We could go through the Old Forest,' he said with a gleam in his eye.

'Well I didn't go with you last time and I'm not going with you again,' Gimli said firmly.

'Have you been to The Shire together?' Aragorn asked surprised, pausing in his rearrangement of saddlebags and tightening Roheryn's girth for they would ride for a while now. 'I did not know.'

Gimli snorted. 'We have indeed. Legolas thought it would be quicker to go through the Old Forest and very odd he was when he came back out,' the Dwarf said grumpily but Legolas tilted his head slightly to one side.

'I do recall that I arrived before you,' the Elf said brightly.

'I had to lead that cursed beast of yours.'

Legolas laughed and leapt astride Arod with sickening ease while Aragorn put his foot in the stirrup and heard his knees click. Roheryn stood like a rock as he hauled himself aboard.

'No,' said Gimli firmly. 'I am not going in there. You can if you want to, Aragorn. But neither I nor Arod will go with you and I think I speak too for Roheryn. We are going the easy route, through Bree.' His chin stuck up so Aragorn knew there would be no shifting him.

Aragorn smiled. 'Then Bree it is.'

If Legolas was disappointed, he did not say but Aragorn thought the Elf would find his way to the Old Forest easily enough at some point, regardless of Gimli's concern but that for the moment, he would do nothing to hinder their passage to find Merry. Patting Roheryn's neck, Aragorn shifted in the saddle, trying to ease his muscles.

'As I recall there is a busy little inn at Bree,' Gimli said, changing the subject innocently. He reached up to take Legolas' hand and be pulled astride Arod. 'The Prancing Pixie or something,' he said provocatively but when Legolas did not bite, he added, 'The landlord is a jolly fellow. I'm not so sure how they will take to an Elf visiting though.' He tugged at his beard as if anxious but it was too obvious and Aragorn slid his gaze towards him. 'I'm not sure you can pass for a Man, Legolas. Perhaps a youth…or a lady. Ow!' He squawked loudly and in an undignified way but Aragorn did not see what Legolas had done for he had already done it by the time Aragorn turned his head.

Roheryn set off unerringly for he knew where he was going and had decided he was off to Bree where there was a warm stable and plenty of feed.

0o0o

From the road, they could see the high escarpment rising before them. The rock was pale, limestone or chalk, Gimli informed them and gave them as short lecture upon its qualities as they rode, the ease of cutting it, its uses and geographical conformation. Legolas only half listened and thought there were no trees and it would be a barren, lonely place.

They approached a narrow gorge that plunged through the highland and divided it irrevocably into two distinct masses. Upon each of the high points on either side of the gorge, Legolas could see the ruins of some kind, as if there had once been a guard upon the gorge.

'The Andrath was an important strategic position in Cardolan,' Aragorn explained when asked as Roheryn plodded along beside Arod. 'The Barrow Downs is on the left; they used to be called Tyrn Gorthad, for Men have buried their dead here from the First Age. Cardolan's main settlement was there. But there were hillforts at intervals along the ridge of the South Downs too, which are to the right. You can just see them along the top of the cliffs.'

Legolas followed where Aragorn indicated, staring up at the steep cliffs of the escarpment. Gorse and heather clung to the bare rock where a thin soil had drifted, and along the top of the ridges, an ancient earthwork was just visible. He thought how many generations of Men had passed since then, how many of his own people had died in the slow relentless war against the Shadow.

'Argeleb, King of Arthedain, built them. He hoped to reunite the three realms of Arthedain, Cardolan and Rhudaur that had once been Arnor against Angmar in the North.' Aragorn said carefully. He gave Legolas a surreptitious glance, as if reluctant to disturb his friend with the thought of the Nazgul that had hurt the Elf so badly during and immediately after the War. But Legolas was not hurt by a simple tale of long ago and gave Aragorn an encouraging nod. 'But Rhudaur allied with Angmar for they hoped he would give them rule over the three realms after his victory, and that he would give them the Palantir of Amon Sul. Argeleb was killed defending Amon Sul.'

'It was a good thing for his son, Arveleg, and his allies, that the Dwarves of Ered Luin joined them,' said Gimli with an air of superiority.

Aragorn glanced at him sceptically. 'I did not know that the Dwarves fought with Arveleg. I heard it was Cirdan's folk,' he said mildly.

'I have heard that too,' Legolas frowning slightly.

Gimli spluttered in outrage, 'If it had not been for Azagimil Bloodaxe you would have lost not only Amon Sul but Fornost and all the realm of Arthedain a lot sooner than you did!'

'Let us agree then that Arveleg and Cardolan, and their allies,' Aragorn said with emphasis that satisfied both Dwarf and Elf, 'guarded the Weather Hills and defended this whole region from Angmar for many years.' He gazed up at the cliffs as he spoke, as if he could see the events of the past unroll before him. 'The Men of Rhudaur pretended to repent for their treachery but they lied, biding their time, building their army secretly. And when Angmar finally turned back to Amon Sul, Rhudaur joined Angmar's side. They killed Arveleg as they had killed his father. The last Prince of Carolan was also killed, and Amon Sul lost.' He sighed and pulled his cloak around his shoulders as if he was suddenly cold. 'Angmar drove the Dúnedain back and back, first to Fornost and the North Downs, and finally they were driven even from there. Arvedui, the Last King, drowned in the Ice Bay of Forochel.'

'But before he drowned, he fled Fornost and took refuge first in the Blue Mountains, of course, aided by his allies: the Dwarves of Ered Luin.' Gimli piped up again. 'He left his son, Aranarth, with them and so he survived when Arvedui did not,' he informed them importantly and Aragorn looked sceptical.

'I have not heard that tale,' he said. 'I thought he went to Cirdan and that is how a ship was sent to rescue Arvedui,' he said drily.

'It is a long tale and sad,' Gimli replied. Arod blew out a heavy sigh as if he thought that Gimli's tale would indeed be very long, and unlikely to be very interesting.

'If his son survived, him, how is that Arvedui was known as the Last King then?' Legolas asked to divert Gimli before he could get started.

Aragorn said quickly, before Gimli could interrupt again. 'His son took the title of Chieftain of the Dúnedain, for the Kingdom was gone and he could not, or would not, lay claim to any other kingdom. And now,' he said briskly, 'let us make haste, for the sun will go down before we reach the end of the gorge if we spend endless hours discussing genealogies.'

'Oh, do not worry, Aragorn,' Gimli said reassuringly and he clucked encouragingly to Arod who stopped dead and swung his head round hopefully for an apple core or carrot top that the Dwarf always seemed to have somewhere about his person. 'I can tell Legolas about Gondor and Arnor as we ride,' he said cheerfully. 'You just concentrate on staying on that horse of yours.'

He barely noticed Aragon's offended look before he began his tale carefully with the legendary patience of the Dwarves; whilst Gimli was a scholar renowned amongst the Dwarves, as he had often told Legolas, Legolas was a simple warrior whose father had not taken much trouble over the education of his youngest, and, as Legolas often told him, stupidest son. 'Gondor was ruled by a different line, Legolas. The Kings of Arnor were Isildur's line.' He smiled benignly over his shoulder at Aragorn.

'After Isildur, there were two kingdoms, and Isildur's only surviving son, Valandil, became King of Arnor and his nephew took Gondor's throne.' Gimli's voice had deepened and taken on that special quality that he adopted when he was about to delve deeply into genealogy; an interest he shared with the Hobbits and had spent many happy hours discussing with interest the Bracegirdles' relationship to the Bagginses' and the Longbeards' familial relationship to the Firebeards' and who liked whom and so on. Legolas did not think he could bear Gimli listing every King of Arnor, Gondor and wherever else, including the length of their reign and significant achievements. It was all he could do to remember the Kings of the Sindar. In fact, the only one he knew, beyond Thranduil and Oropher, was Thingol Greycloak.

So, they travelled for hours through the gorge with Gimli holding forth, first on the lineage of Arnor and Gondor and then smattering his tale with what Legolas thought were rather far-fetched stories of how the Dwarves had saved this battle or that.

They came to a thin waterfall that dripped on one side of the gorge and Aragorn dismounted and turned Roheryn towards it to drink from a clear pool that had gathered beneath the waterfall. Arod nudged at Roheryn and then slurped noisily at the water. Then he lifted his head, water dripping from his muzzle.

Legolas was refilling their own water skins when Roheryn also lifted his head and turned, looking along the gorge and at the same moment, Legolas heard the scatter of small pebbles ahead and upwards. He froze, gesturing to his companions to stay still and silent. Surely something had moved high up on the cliffs ahead? He scanned the sheer walls anxiously. Thinking he saw a shadow moving high up, he shaded his eyes with his long hand and listened intently.

Something… a footfall. The lightest scrunch of grass underfoot.

He half closed his eyes and listened intently, slipping beneath the sounds of the world, seeking the notes of the Song.

Almost he caught it, but it slipped away from him like silk, or water through his fingers. Like an elusive scent from a long ago memory.

He strained to catch it. Yearned towards it almost. Like the Sea.

And it was gone.

'What do you see?' Aragorn asked.

Legolas shook his head. 'I can see nothing and whatever I might have heard is gone,' he admitted. 'I do not think whoever it was intended us harm though.' He slipped the Ale Gezên-aozh from their plain leather sheath and glanced at the gleaming steel blades. Nothing. No rill of blue fire to indicate a creature of Morgoth. Pressing his lips together, he looked up towards the top of the cliffs. 'No. There is nothing. Not now.' But the sensation of the Sea, of yearning, lingered and he wondered if it had been another Elf passing, on their way West perhaps? But it had not been strong enough to know for certain.

The horses had dropped their noses back to the water and were drinking thirstily.

'No orcs have been seen in this area since the War. Nor trolls. They have all retreated to the mountains or the Ettenmoors,' Gimli said. 'It is just that the rain has loosened the earth and perhaps you have heard it shifting.' The Dwarf thrust one foot experimentally against the cliff base and sure enough, a few small stones shook loose.

'We will need to go on foot now,' Aragorn said and clucked to Roheryn, who needed no further encouragement to follow and began again the climb through the gorge, placing his big, solid hoofs between one rock and another, his strong haunches strained with the effort of the climb and rocky path.

Arod was nimbler than Roheryn but less strong and almost danced his way between the rocks. Legolas and Gimli followed over the slippery stones that had fallen from the high cliffs, or been brought by previous year's floods.

At last, they saw they were emerging from the Andrath onto high moorland. At the end of the gorge were two huge megaliths that they had to pass between and at first, both horses baulked but Aragorn gently encouraged Roheryn and he passed through quickly. Arod was more nervous and only when Legolas led him forward would he pass.

It was colder up here on the high moor, the wind hissed through the grass and a thin mist lay over the hills stretching away towards the Weather Hills in one direction and The Shire in the other. A long line of tall silent stones marched away towards the Barrow Downs, marking some forgotten path of the ancient tribes of Cardolan. A curlew cried, a lonely sound, somewhere in the mist but there was no answering call. The mist thickened slowly until there were pearls of water upon their hair and cloaks and upon the horses' manes and they could no longer see further than a few yards ahead.

Suddenly Aragorn was gone, disappearing into the mist that curled around them.

Legolas cried out. The mist was too like the dense bank of fog that had rolled over the Mindolluin when the Nazgul had pursued Elrohir and Legolas himself, or the clinging mist that had fingered its way through Minas Tirith when the Ghoul had led him into a trap.

'Are you alright, Legolas?' A warm hand lay on his arm, and the heat of the forge spread through him. Gimli's earth brown eyes looked up at him with intelligence and concern. 'Aye, I know what you're thinking and I confess I like it no less than you. If his horse hadn't followed, I'd be much afraid. But that horse has more sense in his right hoof than the two of you put together.' He looked at Arod who watched him hopefully. 'And as for you, stupid beast, I'd not trust you as far as I could throw you.'

'Here.' Aragorn suddenly appeared out of the mist and immediately vanished again. Legolas hurried after him, trying to quell the panic he felt, and found himself standing in the ruins of an ancient settlement that had long ago been abandoned. There were a small number of low huts, still roofed with turf cut from the surrounding moor and looking to be in good repair, as if they were still inhabited. The entrance to one sloped downwards and as Legolas walked inside, he found that he did not need to duck his head as it had been dug deeper into the earth and so was high enough, or deep enough, for the horses to have shelter too. There was kindling and fodder, a large box shoved to the back of the hut that Aragorn had already opened and was pulling blankets and oil from within. 'This is an old Ranger hut,' he explained. 'I knew it was around here somewhere. I had hoped we would reach Bree by nightfall but this mist is too treacherous and I think we are better off waiting it out. Many a traveller has been lost on the Downs in the mist and we will lose more time than we gain.'

Neither Legolas nor Gimli objected for the mist had a cold and eerie feel to it and a fire was quickly kindled and welcome, as fodder was pulled out for the grateful horses.

'I will keep watch,' Legolas said and took his post at the doorway. Silently, he drew the Ale Gezên-aozh, the double short blades that Gimli had made for him after the War of the Ring. They drew smoothly from the plain leather sheaths and there was the familiar sharp little whisper of warning and protection. The steel blades gleamed silver and the runes were molten in the moonlight. There was no rill of blue along its edges. And no faraway drift of the Sea or the sorrowful yearning of the broken heart he was sure he had heard earlier.

He let his breath go a little and his shoulders dropped. No orcs then. He watched the mist that curled and crept towards the guardhouse and Legolas felt the hairs on his neck stiffen. It was not just the coldness of it, but somehow it almost seemed a physical presence. Again he thought of the dense bank of fog that had rolled over the Mountain and the Nazgul had come.

There are no Nazgul, he reminded himself. They are gone forever, sucked into the Dark with their Lord.

He stared into the milky air until his eyes hurt and strained his ears but the fog muffled sound and seemed to swallow it. He could hear his friends breathing gently as they slept, the crackle of the fire. Roheryn gave a sigh and shifted slightly, resting one hoof. Arod snuffled quietly. It was very quiet.

He let himself become absolutely still and focused, listening intently; first there was the faint scrabbling of a mouse to there searching for food and the almost silent swish of an owl's wing. He heard the susurrus of the cold, damp wind through the grass on the moorland above and the faraway cry of a curlew.

Had something disturbed it as it nestled in the long grass of the moor? Had something crept past, easing its way between the ancient tombs of long dead Men? Was something groping its way slowly along the silent grey stones towards them?

I am not afraid of the Dead, he reminded himself, and stepped out of the guardhouse and into the mist. It wound about his feet and twisted round his thighs. The cold drifted over his neck, stiffening the hair on his scalp. A shudder went through him like bony fingers had walked down his spine and he thought there was a smell of old stone, empty tombs…And the mist was a cold, suffocating veil over his skin, his face, his mouth. Stealing his breath.

He could not help it.

The scream tore from him before he knew it was building up inside him. It ripped through him like a live thing struggling to get out and he fell back.

0o0o0o

TBC Next chapter will be out very soon.