Chapter III
The army pulled short at a large gate, etched with arcane letters and runes than even the wisest could not translate. Aragorn glanced at the men who until a few moments ago had been complaining about their weariness; now they were all struck dumb as the true purpose of their quest was coming closer to the test. Alongside Aragorn he saw Gimli looking slightly less composed than usual, his grip on his axe tighter than usual. The elf Legolas was not noticeably afraid, but there was a set to his face that Aragorn had only seen at the worst times in their adventures. It was not dissimilar to the expression he had worn upon entering the Mines of Moria in their first journey together. He felt sorry for the elf, illogical he knew as there was no way he should ever feel that for the immortal; yet the evil things that such a beautiful creature had to live through made his heart bleed. Aragorn gave the command to pitch camp here while he decided what was to be their next plan of action. He walked a few steps north to a plateau above the veil of the worlds, and for how long he stood there he could not have told you; he was startled from his thoughts by Legolas, his face a mask of concern, touching his elbow with a soft, questioning "Aragorn?"
"Legolas? What is it that you want?"
The tone of his voice must have been brisker than he intended, for the elf's eyes clouded over and he took a hurried step backwards.
"I apologise, My Lord, but the High Council awaits you, I have been sent to find you. If you desire more time to linger here then I pray you tell me so that I may deliver the message; but recall that this may be time wanted which we do not have."
Aragorn sighed, angered at himself for acting this way when it was not just his future at risk, or even that of people he knew and loved. Although he had always shouldered responsibility and was no stranger to the darker paths to which life can lead, this burden was weighing heavy upon him, and he would need the support of his comrades if he were to have any chance of survival.
Legolas lead him down the rocky outcrop down to a large tend, in the middle of the main body of the camp. Aragorn passed the soldiers who were, in the general way of men on the campaign, trying to forget what they were about to do in a way of lighthearted talk; although the pallor on the faces of most betrayed that even this did not let them forget what an unusual and probably hopeless mission this would be.
Legolas pulled back the flap of the tent and stood aside as Aragorn entered, not to show subservience but to show respect, which Aragorn appreciated at the current moment with his mode of thought and self-doubt that was creeping in. In the tent stood a large table, around it were seated some of his best commanders, along with representatives from all the major nations. In a sort of parody of his first adventure, he saw that Gimli was there, along with another dwarf whom he did not recognise, as the representative of the dwarves. Legolas and Elrond were there for the elves- Lord Celeborn had occupied Legolas' chair on the council until he had been killed in the previous battle. Legolas had taken the seat grudgingly, but as the veil seemed to be weak at Mirkwood, it had made sense for either him or his father Thranduil to take the chair- and Thranduil seemed less that eager to put himself in this danger. Lord Eomer had come up from his kingdom, as had Faramir, anxious to be involved in this and still, perhaps, secretly wishing to outdo what his brother had done. Various other lords were gathered around; Aragon knew their names but reflected to himself that he was not fighting for them this time. Every other battle he has partaken in had been for something, he had always seen the wider picture and fought for every man alongside him. Now he realised that he was not doing that- he was fighting for himself, for his family and his friends, fighting for their right to live and his to live with them, and were the need to sacrifice everyone in this army for that, then, well, after a lot of heartache, he would.
Looking around, Aragorn saw that all eyes were upon him, and he was stuck for something to say. Faramir saw this and spoke up first, receiving a grateful look in return.
"My Lords" Faramir began "It is no secret to any of us why we are here. In that respect, it is no different to a 'usual' battle- the objectives are the same. However, what is not the same is the conduct of the war, and our enemies. What do we know about them? Why -and how- are they attacking us? If anyone knows this I beg them to impart it to us, so that we may have a chance against them."
The men around the table all nodded, and Elrond raised his hand to speak. When all eyes were upon him, he began to speak in a soft tone to them all.
"We do not know how the Others get through to Middle Earth. Neither do we know why they want to, or why the see it as necessary to harm us when they come. We have never seen their world. We have never even seen them- they come in shells of metal to kill us, huge ones that come and send fire towards us in an ugly death scene that has claimed too many lives. They themselves wear a skin most unusual, I do not know what it could be for, but if I were to hazard a guess I would say that it is to protect them against something I their own world- perhaps it is very cold there, or indeed too hot for normal life to survive. Or perhaps they cannot survive in Middle Earth without it, though then why they would wish to come here is beyond my thinking."
"My Lord Elrond? May I be forgiven for interruption?" asked Legolas. At a rather confused nod from Elrond, he continued. "I have seen what the Others look like underneath their shells, although the image haunts my dreams now. They look just like men from Middle Earth, in shape and form at least, with features that would be indistinguishable from ours if taken alone. But they are grotesquely deformed, some terrible accident must have marred their features this way. They have open sores all over their bodies, they have colouring that would not be out of place on a dead man, and their eyes..." he shuddered "their eyes shine with latent madness, there is no life or soul in them other than a desperate will to survive. It is like looking into a black abyss that will never end, and to feel yourself falling down for all eternity. I doubt" he paused again, looking around the tend for emphasis "I doubt that they are aware of what they are even doing. Is it possible....is it possible that a Dark Lord like Sauron has taken control of their world, and made them into beings even lower than orcs?"
A ripple of surprise went around the room, each man turning to his neighbour and surprisedly discussing what Legolas had said. None of them had considered this before- that the world had undergone a huge trauma that made them seek elsewhere, or that they might be under the yoke of an evil master. Aragorn held up his hand for silence, which after a few moments more he grudgingly received.
"My Lords, what we have just heard is a new idea to us, and it is to be expected that you will have many ideas that spring from this. However, I warn you only of this...do not leap to a conclusion that it 'must' be a certain way, and plan around that. We have no way of finding out what is truly the case, we cannot get through to the other side."
"Surely there is some way?!" cried Faramir, his fiery temper rased by the hopelessness with which both the elf and the man had spoken.
"Not that we know. Not that is not too dangerous to anyone who tries it- we just do not know what will happen. Or even what their world is like...can we in any way hope to survive if we got through?" Aragorn replied.
"My Lords, with you permission, I would like to try and go through" said Faramir, his jaw set firmly and a glint in his eye that said he would argue this until he was allowed to go. Aragorn sighed.
"This is what I knew someone would do. I cannot stop you, if you wish to go then the use you may be outweighs my own personal feelings about it. Would that I could join you, but I am needed here, it is for me that all these men leave their homes and come to a foreign place to, most likely, meet their death."
"Do not worry, my King. I shall accompany the Lord Faramir on his quest, and we shall both come back, or neither of us." Legolas stood up to say this, his fair elven face making him look like an angel going to war. Aragorn felt his heart break when he heard those words; of all the people he had ever loved, including Arwen, he felt that Legolas was the most dear to him. Perhaps it was a sense of comradeship alone, but he sensed that it was more than that, in the dark hours of the night when the mind often thinks about what you do not wish yourself to know. He was unable to say anything to concur with the idea, but just nodded numbly as Elrond and Gimli volunteered their services as well, but then held up his hand. In a composed voice quite unlike the one he felt- which was to scream and beg them not to go- he gave his royal permission for them to go and blessed the trip. Then he dismissed the council and fled the tent, just making it to the solitude of the forest before the grief washed over him, and he lay down and gave way to sorrow.
The army pulled short at a large gate, etched with arcane letters and runes than even the wisest could not translate. Aragorn glanced at the men who until a few moments ago had been complaining about their weariness; now they were all struck dumb as the true purpose of their quest was coming closer to the test. Alongside Aragorn he saw Gimli looking slightly less composed than usual, his grip on his axe tighter than usual. The elf Legolas was not noticeably afraid, but there was a set to his face that Aragorn had only seen at the worst times in their adventures. It was not dissimilar to the expression he had worn upon entering the Mines of Moria in their first journey together. He felt sorry for the elf, illogical he knew as there was no way he should ever feel that for the immortal; yet the evil things that such a beautiful creature had to live through made his heart bleed. Aragorn gave the command to pitch camp here while he decided what was to be their next plan of action. He walked a few steps north to a plateau above the veil of the worlds, and for how long he stood there he could not have told you; he was startled from his thoughts by Legolas, his face a mask of concern, touching his elbow with a soft, questioning "Aragorn?"
"Legolas? What is it that you want?"
The tone of his voice must have been brisker than he intended, for the elf's eyes clouded over and he took a hurried step backwards.
"I apologise, My Lord, but the High Council awaits you, I have been sent to find you. If you desire more time to linger here then I pray you tell me so that I may deliver the message; but recall that this may be time wanted which we do not have."
Aragorn sighed, angered at himself for acting this way when it was not just his future at risk, or even that of people he knew and loved. Although he had always shouldered responsibility and was no stranger to the darker paths to which life can lead, this burden was weighing heavy upon him, and he would need the support of his comrades if he were to have any chance of survival.
Legolas lead him down the rocky outcrop down to a large tend, in the middle of the main body of the camp. Aragorn passed the soldiers who were, in the general way of men on the campaign, trying to forget what they were about to do in a way of lighthearted talk; although the pallor on the faces of most betrayed that even this did not let them forget what an unusual and probably hopeless mission this would be.
Legolas pulled back the flap of the tent and stood aside as Aragorn entered, not to show subservience but to show respect, which Aragorn appreciated at the current moment with his mode of thought and self-doubt that was creeping in. In the tent stood a large table, around it were seated some of his best commanders, along with representatives from all the major nations. In a sort of parody of his first adventure, he saw that Gimli was there, along with another dwarf whom he did not recognise, as the representative of the dwarves. Legolas and Elrond were there for the elves- Lord Celeborn had occupied Legolas' chair on the council until he had been killed in the previous battle. Legolas had taken the seat grudgingly, but as the veil seemed to be weak at Mirkwood, it had made sense for either him or his father Thranduil to take the chair- and Thranduil seemed less that eager to put himself in this danger. Lord Eomer had come up from his kingdom, as had Faramir, anxious to be involved in this and still, perhaps, secretly wishing to outdo what his brother had done. Various other lords were gathered around; Aragon knew their names but reflected to himself that he was not fighting for them this time. Every other battle he has partaken in had been for something, he had always seen the wider picture and fought for every man alongside him. Now he realised that he was not doing that- he was fighting for himself, for his family and his friends, fighting for their right to live and his to live with them, and were the need to sacrifice everyone in this army for that, then, well, after a lot of heartache, he would.
Looking around, Aragorn saw that all eyes were upon him, and he was stuck for something to say. Faramir saw this and spoke up first, receiving a grateful look in return.
"My Lords" Faramir began "It is no secret to any of us why we are here. In that respect, it is no different to a 'usual' battle- the objectives are the same. However, what is not the same is the conduct of the war, and our enemies. What do we know about them? Why -and how- are they attacking us? If anyone knows this I beg them to impart it to us, so that we may have a chance against them."
The men around the table all nodded, and Elrond raised his hand to speak. When all eyes were upon him, he began to speak in a soft tone to them all.
"We do not know how the Others get through to Middle Earth. Neither do we know why they want to, or why the see it as necessary to harm us when they come. We have never seen their world. We have never even seen them- they come in shells of metal to kill us, huge ones that come and send fire towards us in an ugly death scene that has claimed too many lives. They themselves wear a skin most unusual, I do not know what it could be for, but if I were to hazard a guess I would say that it is to protect them against something I their own world- perhaps it is very cold there, or indeed too hot for normal life to survive. Or perhaps they cannot survive in Middle Earth without it, though then why they would wish to come here is beyond my thinking."
"My Lord Elrond? May I be forgiven for interruption?" asked Legolas. At a rather confused nod from Elrond, he continued. "I have seen what the Others look like underneath their shells, although the image haunts my dreams now. They look just like men from Middle Earth, in shape and form at least, with features that would be indistinguishable from ours if taken alone. But they are grotesquely deformed, some terrible accident must have marred their features this way. They have open sores all over their bodies, they have colouring that would not be out of place on a dead man, and their eyes..." he shuddered "their eyes shine with latent madness, there is no life or soul in them other than a desperate will to survive. It is like looking into a black abyss that will never end, and to feel yourself falling down for all eternity. I doubt" he paused again, looking around the tend for emphasis "I doubt that they are aware of what they are even doing. Is it possible....is it possible that a Dark Lord like Sauron has taken control of their world, and made them into beings even lower than orcs?"
A ripple of surprise went around the room, each man turning to his neighbour and surprisedly discussing what Legolas had said. None of them had considered this before- that the world had undergone a huge trauma that made them seek elsewhere, or that they might be under the yoke of an evil master. Aragorn held up his hand for silence, which after a few moments more he grudgingly received.
"My Lords, what we have just heard is a new idea to us, and it is to be expected that you will have many ideas that spring from this. However, I warn you only of this...do not leap to a conclusion that it 'must' be a certain way, and plan around that. We have no way of finding out what is truly the case, we cannot get through to the other side."
"Surely there is some way?!" cried Faramir, his fiery temper rased by the hopelessness with which both the elf and the man had spoken.
"Not that we know. Not that is not too dangerous to anyone who tries it- we just do not know what will happen. Or even what their world is like...can we in any way hope to survive if we got through?" Aragorn replied.
"My Lords, with you permission, I would like to try and go through" said Faramir, his jaw set firmly and a glint in his eye that said he would argue this until he was allowed to go. Aragorn sighed.
"This is what I knew someone would do. I cannot stop you, if you wish to go then the use you may be outweighs my own personal feelings about it. Would that I could join you, but I am needed here, it is for me that all these men leave their homes and come to a foreign place to, most likely, meet their death."
"Do not worry, my King. I shall accompany the Lord Faramir on his quest, and we shall both come back, or neither of us." Legolas stood up to say this, his fair elven face making him look like an angel going to war. Aragorn felt his heart break when he heard those words; of all the people he had ever loved, including Arwen, he felt that Legolas was the most dear to him. Perhaps it was a sense of comradeship alone, but he sensed that it was more than that, in the dark hours of the night when the mind often thinks about what you do not wish yourself to know. He was unable to say anything to concur with the idea, but just nodded numbly as Elrond and Gimli volunteered their services as well, but then held up his hand. In a composed voice quite unlike the one he felt- which was to scream and beg them not to go- he gave his royal permission for them to go and blessed the trip. Then he dismissed the council and fled the tent, just making it to the solitude of the forest before the grief washed over him, and he lay down and gave way to sorrow.