Chapter 39:

The Words to Wound

Author's Note: Took me a while to churn this chapter out. I'm not entirely happy with it (you'll find out why as you read), but its there and it does serve the narrative in a particular way that makes the events of this chapter necessary. Hopefully it works, we'll see.

Enjoy!

Days passed for the company and Aragorn found himself growing increasingly ill at ease. There were several reasons for his inner disquiet. Boromir was constantly at the forefront of his mind. He rode in the middle boat directly behind his and could be heard constantly muttering to himself and staring hungrily at Frodo. Gollum was another issue he'd consistently attempted to deal with quietly. The little wretch had been following them since Moria and Aragorn attempted to catch him numerous times. Aracasse naturally found entertainment in his attempts though she didn't outright say anything on the matter. She merely scooted aside in their shared pallet and lifted her cloak invitingly. At first, Aragorn only suspected she knew what, exactly, he was tracking. She confirmed it on their third day of travel when she asked him how close he was to catching the thing.

"If you know he's following us, why have you not made an attempt to catch the creature?" He'd asked, more curious than accusatory.

"He won't try anything in the group," she'd replied. "He'll wait for our Hobbit friend to be alone before actually attempting to take… it."

It was sound reasoning and Aragorn supposed it allowed for her to sleep at night. He certainly wasn't about to let her concern herself about Gollum and any potential harm he could cause their company. Part of him wanted to relieve of himself a little of the burden, but he'd stopped the idea whenever he considered it. Ara had cares enough to cause sleepless nights. The trouble of Gollum wouldn't be one of them.

Frodo knew. He'd spied the little fiend on the fourth day while the company slept. Aragorn had wakened at the sound of Frodo drawing his sword. He'd wondered if Ara had heard the noise and checked on her while he conversed with Frodo. She hadn't so much as stirred and Aragorn wasn't about to question the depth of her slumber.

The greatest, most persistent, of his worries was the coming decision he would need to make - or convince Frodo to make for him - concerning the next path of their journey. Ara made it apparent that she hadn't particularly cared where she went. The lands of their enemy were her destination. The path was inconsequential in her opinion. While he appreciated that she'd go wherever he chose to lead them, Aragorn wished she was more decisive in the decision-making. She'd seen the maps - brought copies of them with her - so surely she had some sort of an opinion on the subject?

The seventh night of their journey brought the company to different terrain. Large, rocky cliffs and hills rose around them. He noticed the elves and dwarf speaking to each other in their small boat each wearing a smile while Legolas consistently glanced up at the stars. The moon was invisible this night and the only light visible were that of the stars. Starlight caught in her bronze hair and - despite the fact he knew she'd exerted effort to dim her more exotic elvish traits - the light wove through it and made her seem ethereal.

Aragorn admired her for a moment before he forced himself to tear his eyes away and return them to the river ahead. He glanced at the sky and noted the lightening in the east.

"Help me seek a place to rest," he muttered to Sam and Frodo.

The hobbits nodded and scanned the banks to either side of them. Frodo looked as comfortable as anyone could be in a boat, but poor Sam shifted and muttered miserably to himself as he cast his gaze around and pulled the edges of his cloak around his small form.

"There, Strider," Frodo said and nodded at a bend in the river where a thick copse of small trees grew at the base of a tall cliff.

Aragorn frowned, but nodded his agreement all the same. Birds flew above in small flocks and he glanced at them, untrusting. They began to steer the boats to the indicated bank and the rest of the company followed. As they made ground, Aragorn jumped out and pushed the craft onto the sandy bank. Twin splashes behind him indicated Legolas and Boromir following his example. He helped Sam out of the boat. Frodo had nimbly lifted himself out and already headed to Legolas and Ara's craft to search out his bedroll. The elf lady - who'd already stood on one side of her boat - smiled at him and handed Frodo his bedroll while she shifted around the packs in search of theirs. Aragorn approached with Sam and watched as she paused in her work to repeat the act of kindness.

Kind. His wife was very kind to the hobbits in particular. Her kindness in Imladris had won her the respect of the dwarves of Erebor and Gimli had maintained that respect throughout the journey to Lorien. Upon reuniting with the elf lady, the dwarf's opinion of her seemed to change from one of deep respect to that of a fond friendship. Then again, Aracasse wasn't like the elves of Arda. It shouldn't have surprised him seeing as she wasn't born in Arda, but a place that seemed much different. Even with this knowledge, he hadn't quite understood the depth of her difference until meeting the elves Artemis and Professor Moruni.

The Lady Artemis was a bit of a shock. She was abrasive and as sharp as a battle-axe. When she spoke, Aragorn always had the impressed he was sparring with her. There were moments during his stay in Lorien that she was impatient and constantly angry. When he spied her and Legolas speaking; however, he witnessed the softening of her countenance and could clearly see the resemblance between the elf lady and his wife. When he mentioned his observations to Aracasse one night, she'd only shrugged.

"I think walking around with a chip on their shoulder is normal for her generation of elves," she'd explained. "My ancestor, Zeus, hadn't been a good king. He was a corrupt man who allowed his passions to rule him. Aunt Artemis is a direct result of this and she feels it all too keenly and refuses to be ruled in the same way."

She'd smiled and continued, "However, she is just as passionate as he reportedly was, so she fails poorly at the attempt."

Aragorn hadn't fully understood the context of her remark, but chose not to pry. While he may be privy to Ara's thoughts as her husband, it would have been a breech of trust for her to attempt to draw from her the past of her aunt when her aunt hadn't offered it to him.

He stepped up to the boat, bent down and tugged out their bedroll from the bottom. She smiled and proceeded to take out some food and water for the Fellowship to break their fast with before they retired for the day to sleep.

They slept a little away from the company that night as there was tree cover. Aragorn held her close with his lips buried into her hair. Ara fell asleep quickly and lay curled into his body with a small smile touching her lips.

He slept, not soundly, but with some contentment.

The day turned into the eighth night of their journey. Aragorn looked at the river frowning deep in thought. He didn't know the land and he wasn't entirely certain how far away the rapids actually were. He glanced at Ara who helped the men break camp and cover the smoldering fire.

No, the rapids are far enough. I should keep her burdens light until then, he thought.

"We will venture one more journey by night. We are coming to reaches of the River that I do not know well; for I have never journeyed by water in these parts before, not between here and the rapids of Sarn Gebir. But if I am right in my reckoning, those are still many miles ahead. Still there are dangerous places even before we come there: rocks and stony eyots in the stream. We must keep a sharp watch and not try to paddle swiftly," he said.

He placed Sam in charge of looking for any possible signs of the rapids. While he pushed his boat into the river, Aragorn caught his wife's eye. Aracasse crossed her arms and raised a single bronze brow. The question was clear. Did he want her to check? Aragorn shook his head and returned his full attention to the task at hand.

They set out without incident and drifted along with the swift current for several hours in silence. Such was they typical state of the company in nights like this. Little could be said when the sounds of rushing water and distance made speaking normally difficult. Too much shouting or raised voices could easily attract the enemy and, for Frodo's and Ara's sakes, Aragorn wanted to avoid confrontation with the enemy as much as possible.

The night was deep and the moon's light casts its silver glow about the land. Aragorn allowed the swift current to propel them forward. He glanced at the moon's position and calculated that it was close to midnight.

"Strider!"

Aragorn's concentration broke at Sam's cry and he peered ahead to find the shapes of great rocks towering before them. Before he could react the current - which had swiftly bore them toward the rapids - stopped. The boats jerked and he fell forward into Frodo who released a bark of surprise. When he righted himself, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Ara's hands outstretched and her eyes closed in concentration. Her lips moved, but he couldn't make out what she said in the dim light.

"Take up the ores and turn about to the bank!" Legolas ordered. "The Great River won't allow her authority for long!"

The resulting noise that stemmed from the company's haste caused him to cringe. Splashing and cursing of the men filled the air. It was difficult work at first. The stayed current gave their ores little room to work, but once the boats were turned the approach to the bank was made easier by the still water. When they finally reached the shore, Aragorn, Boromir and Legolas quickly jumped out of their respective boats and pushed them to the bank.

"Further up the bank, else the crafts will be swept away!" Legolas said.

Aragorn grunted and pushed against the ground. The boats were light - a feature of all elven made craft - but they were weighed down by people and packs. Frodo had already disembarked and splashed the rest of the way to the shore with Merry following close behind. The two other hobbits remained in the boats, not wanting to chance the water, Gimli seemed to have a similar opinion on the matter and Ara was too focused on keeping Anduin at bay to attempt to move. Once they were completely situated on the shore, Legolas leaned down and whispered to his niece. Slowly, Ara lowered her hands and opened her eyes.

"That was more difficult than I thought it would be," she muttered and then glanced to Legolas. "What is it with Arda's nature having some sort of spirit controlling it?"

The elf smiled and replied, "That would be the Maiar. They are the spirits of nature in direct communion with the Valar, but they exist within the bounds of nature in our world. Some are in Valinor, but many come here."

Her brows furrowed and she looked as if she was about to make some comment or the other, but seemed to decide against whatever she wanted to say with a shake of her head. Shouts and snarls startled him. Aragorn drew Anduril and glanced around the river bank and up the dark hills around it. Legolas grabbed his bow and notched an arrow to the string. He ran a little ways up the bank and glared at the sky.

A creature snarled behind him. Before Aragorn could so much as move the sing of metal tearing flesh met his ears. He turned and saw the slim form of his wife kicking a great, furry, humanoid creature away from them. A small silver knife rested in her hand and a longer knife gleamed in the other. Another of the same creature leapt toward her. Ara moved before it's clawed hands ripped her to pieces. Once again the small silver knife found its mark in the back of the creature's neck before she yanked the blade out and slit the throat of another of the same.

"Werewolves," she said shortly while looking around for more. "Silver's the best way to kill them, but barring that decapitation works just as well. I've packed three more silver knives in my pack. Sam, get them out and give them to Boromir, Gimli and Aragorn."

Sam rushed to her boat and rummaged around for her pack. Before Aragorn could respond, Aracasse rushed into the night.

"Where's she gone?" Asked Pippin.

Aragorn numbly accepted one of the silver knives from Sam. No more furry monsters appeared and he couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. A white figure in the shadows caught his eye and Aragorn turned to see the delicate form of a white skinned woman with gleaming eyes red as blood. Burgundy lips curled back into a smiling snarl and revealed two long incisors. He aimed Anduril at the creature. She laughed.

"Oh, I think that little thing won't quite be sufficient enough to kill me," she purred.

Aragorn shuddered as the tones of her voice washed over him like venom. By this time, the rest of the company took notice of the woman. Boromir cursed.

"A fiend of the Warmonger!" He hissed.

"Not of him," she replied, "but close enough."

As she stepped forward, the shadows rose around her. They broke from the night and swarmed the company. To his astonishment, Frodo stepped forward and raised the little vial Galadriel gifted him into the air. A few elvish words left his lips and light burst forth from the glass. The shadows screeched and writhed as the light of Earendil hit them. Boromir charged the woman with the silver knife raised.

She moved like lightening. One moment she was curled away from Frodo's light. The next her hand had caught the arm of Boromir and the other grabbed the gondorian's throat. She inhaled and released a long sigh.

"Oh! The blood of such an honorable man!" She breathed. "It smells of the finest of perfumes. A bouquet so delectable that I am barely able to resist."

Aragorn charged forward and cut off both of her arms. She screamed and glared at him.

"You foolish mortal! Don't you know what I am? I am Nosferatu!"

The arms began to grow in dark tendrils. Bile coated his mouth, but he situated himself in front of Boromir while the man sputtered and sucked in great gulps of air. Then Frodo, blessed little hobbit, darted forward and thrust the still lit vial towards the self proclaimed Nosferatu. She screamed like the light burned her skin and staggered away. Brave little Frodo followed her as she stumbled over rock, bush and bramble to get away from them.

While the hobbit gave chase a screech pierced the night. His heart froze and Aragorn cast his gaze to the sky. A great winged beast flew low over the hills like a dark foreboding shadow. Despite his fear, Aragorn lifted Anduril and allowed flames to wreath the blade.

"Elbereth Gilthoniel."

A gentle voice filled the wind and Legolas - who'd taken aim - released his arrow. It struck the creature and the shadow screamed before flying high into the clouds and away from the company. The night stilled and silence met their ears. A moment passed and Frodo hurried to Aragorn's side.

"That thing is gone," the hobbit announced with a shudder.

Aragorn smiled, relieved. Sounds of night crept back into the air. Legolas lowered both his bow and the hand that rested on his quiver fingering another arrow. The elf turned to the company with a frown. His eyes scanned each of them before that frown increased.

"Where are Ara and Gimli?"

This time, a different sort of fear clenched his heart. Aragorn cast his gaze about the company. Gimli wasn't with them and Ara hadn't returned. Where had she gone? Where had Gimli? He couldn't hear them, couldn't see them - couldn't see his wife - and the company's battle had long since died and they had yet to return. Panic settled in and he kept it reigned while he helped Boromir rise from the ground. He looked in the direction he'd last seen her go.

No sign.

He glanced at Legolas. The elf shook his head.

"You should stay. I'll look for them," he offered.

"All well?"

They turned to find Gimli and Ara bounding toward them. Gimli's step was light and a smile graced his bearded face. Behind him, Ara looked haggard. A bloody cut beaded at her cheek and her hair was disheveled.

"The bastard elf won't be walking for a while, I can assure you!" Gimli chortled.

"Elf? What elf?" Legolas asked, bewildered.

"Erebus," Aracasse muttered.

Her eyes were cast to the ground in a furious glare. From the way she held herself, Aragorn suspected that whatever dual she'd engaged herself in with Erebus had taken a bad turn.

"What happened?" He asked though he wasn't sure if he wanted Ara to answer or Gimli.

Gimli was the one to oblige first, "I saw that woman and knew she was of our little queen's enemies. Since she wasn't in the camp, I left to find her, thinking we'd need her expertise on the matter. The…" he looked at her expectantly.

"Knight Elf, Dark Elf, Sorcerer, or Erebus works just fine," Ara said, with some amount of swagger.

Aragorn narrowed his eyes. A false front from her wasn't a good thing.

"Yes, yes," Gimli said. "Well, this Erebus character had incapacitated our she-elf and had her by her hair. I held the silver knife in my hand and - thinking it as a knife like any other - threw it. The knife struck the Knight Elf, though I don't think the cut was particularly deep. I'm not good a throwing knives, you see. Our Aracasse still couldn't move, so I charged the Knight Elf with my axe and managed to fend him off while she'd regained control of her faculties. Our assailant was gone before she could retaliate."

"I'll get that bastard eventually," she said.

The false ease in which she uttered those words angered him. What did she think she was playing at? He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"How did this Erebus incapacitate you?" Boromir asked.

She touched her cheek, "His blade was coated with a particular type of drug that caused my limbs to freeze after fifteen minutes. I hadn't noticed the symptoms until it was too late."

Aragorn closed his eyes. No. He couldn't let this pass. Frodo wasn't the only one in the company in need of protection. At the beginning of their journey, Aragorn had been willing to trust his wife in regards to her personal protection. Her actions this night proved to him that, at the very least, they needed to have words about staying together; especially since she was one of the objects of the enemy's hunt.

"Ara, help me with the packs," he said, harsher than he'd initially intended.

She blinked at him, as if noticing him for the first time, and nodded. Something about that caused a hot flash of anger to coarse through him. To his utter amazement, Ara followed him without question and leaned over the boat she'd spent the majority of the day in. He opened the food pack and began to withdraw the dried meats gathered for the company by Lorien's elves.

"You will not leave this camp alone again," Aragorn ordered softly.

She bristled, "Excuse me?"

"I didn't think you were hard of hearing for an elf," he replied.

The barb wasn't particularly kind, but was said nonetheless. It was met with the appropriately offended glare directed at him with her beautiful teal eyes.

"I went after Erebus because he's too much for the rest of you," she hissed.

"Yes, and that act left us open for attack by a woman calling herself a…" he paused and searched for the correct pronunciation. "A Nosferatu."

She blinked and then looked away, "I'm sorry. You all don't seem worse for wear, so I suspect you handled it well enough. I won't promise to never go off on my own. Erebus shouldn't be allowed too close to the group. Even the likes of a Nosferatu is more manageable than a knight elf would be."

"That isn't true and you know it!" He hissed.

She pursed her lips, but didn't look at him or respond. The silence fell between them and Aragorn began to realize that she knew her actions were foolish, yet she fully intended to repeat them.

"No. I won't have this! Look at me!" He snapped, louder than intended.

The soft susurration of conversation died behind them. Ara's fists clenched and she didn't respond or follow his command. She simply stared into the night, jaw clenched and back rigid.

"Look at me," he growled. "Look me in the eye and tell me that you would have managed to defeat Erebus this night."

She whirled on him and snapped in a tone that was most definitely easy to hear, "I would have figured something out eventually! This isn't the first time one of my enemies attempted this!"

"Oh? After the numerous instances where having someone with you would have been preferable, you mean to tell me that you find it prudent to leave the possibility of you being able to break free from their thrall up to chance? What if this drug overcame you? What if he used another method besides this drug to incapacitate you?" He asked, no attempt to soften his voice was made.

"I…" she began, but faltered.

The look in her eye and the way she cast her gaze from him again told him enough. The knight elf had been about to do just as Aragorn feared when Gimli had interrupted him.

"You won't do this again," he said. "If you need to hunt for an enemy, take myself, Legolas, Gimli or Boromir with you, but you will never go alone again."

"I won't promise that!"

He stood and whirled on her, "This isn't a request!"

She stood, hands clenched and chin raised in defiance, "Who do you think you are to order me to do anything?"

"I am your husband and the leader of this company. You will do what I say for the safety of yourself - a target of the enemy - and the rest of us! You leaving placed us in danger as much as yourself and I won't have you presenting yourself to the enemy on a silver platter!"

She laughed. It wasn't her usual good-natured one, but an embittered, sarcastic laugh that served to steak the anger raging inside.

"My coming on this quest does a good enough job of that. I won't place you in further danger by taking one of you with me. Erebus was startled by Gimli and injured because he threw the knife I thought to bring in case my enemies attacked in the exact way they had tonight! I would have managed and I don't need you to dictate my every movement just because you're insecure about our power dynamic!"

"You idiotic, stubborn woman!" He said, almost shouting. "Are you so arrogant in your failing that you won't recognize when you need help?"

"I don't, thank you very much!"

"You do and you will accept it and my authority in this!"

"Authority? You don't even want it!"

He fixed her with a severe gaze and growled, "Yet I have it and you will submit to it."

"Fuck that and fuck you!" She said, pointing her forefinger at him. "You don't get to just order me around like I'm some sort of dutiful little wife meant to serve as your bed warmer and breeding stock!"

"Such would be preferable to a foul-mouthed fool who fashions herself worthy enough to be queen of anything!"

She blinked and Aragorn instantly regretted his choice of words. Aracasse reached into the boat and grabbed her pack, but left their bedroll in place. Her face screwed itself into a twisted squint and the anger left him then.

He shouldn't have said that.

He shouldn't have shouted at her in front of the company.

He should have confronted her after his anger died and not a moment before.

Aragorn reached for her, but she stepped away from him and said thickly, "Well then, feel free to find one of those when you get to Gondor."

With that, she walked to the other side of the camp, threw her pack behind a tall rock, and disappeared behind it.