Disclaimers: See the first chapter.
I was so intent on posting the last two chapters that I didn't pause to acknowledge the words of encouragement and questions. Reviews are the finest of holiday presents as no matter how often you take them out, they can never be broken.
Gilby – thank you for your compliment and the frankness of your comments
Spacemonkey – you have more faith in me than I do myself. I'm not yet the caliber of writer that can balance so many wonderful characters as the whole fellowship yet. I'll leave that to the likes of FF authors like Littlefish for now, until I sharpen my knowledge of Middle Earth, the characters and my craft –If you haven't read her stories, go now! My little tale will still be here when you get back.
Evil Old Woman – you're a doll. 'nuff said.
Aralondwen – good question. After you asked I thought, nope, Estel will learn first who he is though his developing friendship with Legolas. You gave me the idea to tackle how he finds out what he is somehow later in the story. Suggestions?
Lassemista – yet another cliffie 'cause you like them so much. I've rarely ever gotten three reviews from the same reader – it's very cool! grinning from ear to ear
And so it goes…
Chapter 6 - Something Wicked…
Whether due to the ferocity of the recent battle or sensing the evil that uttered those malevolent words, nature had retreated, leaving an eerie silent void. The only sound that Legolas could hear was the labored breathing of his companion and his own heart as it raced. Steadying himself, he slowly turned in the direction from where the voice originated. Legolas's first impression was that he was seeing a clothed marble statue of an archer – so bloodless and chilling were the features of the being before him. He had the look of a mortal man, yet standing in the shaded shelter of the trees as dusk descended, the elven prince could only gather a vague impression of nothing but his sallow complexion, the deadly ebony arrow pointing unerringly at the rangers heart and his eyes. Eyes so cold, and so lacking in any pigment, that they resembled blazing shards of ice.
Looking upon this being, the elf, normally resistant to natural cold, felt an unnatural chill to the very core of his soul. For just a few moments the beings of light and that of unnatural darkness gazed at each other. Legolas only broke the gaze when he heard a week cough coming from the direction of where the ranger was affixed to the tree like a fly caught in amber sap. Fearing that the wound was more serious than he had first assessed, the elf was at least relieved to see that no blood tinged the lips of his injured friend, signifying a likely fatal piercing of his lung.
Friend? Legolas pondered this description that had entered his thoughts unbidden for one whom he had met just over a day ago. Then he remembered the grim smile the Ranger had dealt him before lofting his sword, his only means of defense, to kill the orc planning to take the elf unawares. And Legolas understood. Strider had weighed two lives in that moment and made a choice, a sacrifice that would surely have meant his life. He had made it willingly for his comrade. Legolas had pledged his life to Elrond's family in protection of their son and brother. Strider had delivered on the unspoken promise Legolas had not at the time understood. In the moment when the ranger offered his hand in response – he too had offered his life in return. The fair elf's head tilted ever so slightly to one side as he contemplated this deceptively complex creature just over a score of years old. He closed his eyes for a moment, his lips flattening into a grim line of resigned determination.
A cackle rose from the pale being that held the ranger in the sights of his rock-steady bow. To Legolas it sounded like the sharp cracking of tree limbs snapping under the weight of ice after a freezing rain.
"Do not tell me that this man…" the being spoke with cold derision, "is what you rode so far to fetch." He laughed again and added, "What could a mortal, such as this pathetic creature, do to influence the fates of ageless creatures such as you and I?"
This thing of darkness that seemed to cling to the shadows in the diminishing light, paused as if expecting a reply. Legolas only favored him with defiant tilt of his chin.
The bloodless being sighed to exaggerated effect. "Since you seem to value his life, you make my task quite simple for me. Drop your bow to the ground, dismount your horse and come to me. My lord has bid me retrieve the Prince of Mirkwood and he will be well pleased if I bring you to him alive. I don't think that he anticipated such a coup."
Legolas glared at the evil creature before him and then turned his eye on the ranger.
Strider read the intent to surrender in the elf's eyes. In pain and despair, he ground out a simple word between clenched teeth. "No." He moved forward, agonizingly sliding his shoulder forward a couple inches down the shaft of the arrow pinning him to the tree at his back.
"Think twice about this choice, Ranger. The fletching on my arrow has a surprise waiting for you that will surely shred the life this elf seems so wanting to protect."
Legolas's keen elven eyes caught the glint of metal among the black fletched feathers.
Strider saw the danger in the same instant. Interspersed amongst the feathers on the arrow were fine metal spikes. The Ranger seemed to come to a decision. His jaw clenched, his eyes shut tight, Strider tipped his head forward.
These actions telegraphed his intent to Legolas as surely as words and the elf desperately shouted, "Strider, noooo!"
The craven creature laughed in spiteful glee at the futile gesture.
Suddenly, Strider stopped any forward momentum as he heard the whistle of a missile originating from somewhere behind him. The creature's laughter transformed into a fearful gurgling - caused by the arrow that appeared as if by magick to be protruding from his neck. He fell heavily into the brush and out of their sight.
Not knowing if the attack was from friend or foe, Legolas flung himself off his horse and raced to the ranger's side. Ignoring the pain as he grasped the shaft and made contact with one of the spikes, the elf snapped the bolt between the deadly feathers and Strider. Now pulling the ranger into the safety of his arms, he shielded him with his own body. Before they hit the ground, the Ranger had slipped into unconsciousness. The prince dragged the ranger behind the tree, drew both knives from his belt and crouched over the his fallen comrade's body, as he waited to see who would emerge from the forest cover.
TBC…Your comments, suggestions and reviews are as always much of my inspiration. Many thanks, as always, to all who find the time to drop a line!