Meeting in the Woods
Chapter Five(…!)
New Weapons and Avengers in the night
Author's note: Thirty-two reviews! This is overwhelming! I can't believe how well met my story is, and how many wonderful reviewers there are out there! THANK YOU SO MUCH-seriously.
Answering some unanswered reviews;
Imbefaniel: Thanks for your review! I've been trying to elongate my chapters, since I'm always annoyed by extremely short ones…Now I have more motivation =^^=
Mad at Gravity: ROFL Yes…re-reading it, I sort of see where everybody gets a slash implication…I didn't MEAN for it to turn out that way LOL…I'm not going to make it into a romantic fic, it's just an A/L FRIENDSHIP-at least in writing. If y'all want to think there's slash going on between the lines, go ahead XD
Anduin: I have another theory, aside from the whole (godlike) sexy sweaty elf one…Maybe it's just how flawless he seems in the movies we have little mental jealous spasms and have to make him imperfect? LOL Thanks for your review!
Lani: LOL Again, I wish I'd killed that man in a more brutal way…as the story goes on, I only hate him more.
Fairlady: I'm not sure about Gimli and the fellowship. This is mostly just a how-they-met story, but it could lead up to Fellowship Days. I really love these hobbits (PIPPIN FOREVER!!) =^^=), and I think I'll try and work them into the story.
Sparly-Purple-Babe: Thanks! I'm trying to update as much as I can =^^=
Evil Spapple Pie: ROFL Yes…ok…I just decided…UM Remembered…an explanation to Legolas' whole looking-at-Aragorn-in-a-somewhat-suggestive-way-thing. He led a sheltered life, our (godlike) elf, and was taught that humans were evil and foul. Then he spent all this time with N. D, and it only made him think humans all the more so. Soooo when foul Aragorn washed all the *mud* off, Legolas was…caught off guard. But really! Only friendship! LOL
Jediya: LOL I tend to add the subtle-ifying *COUGH* around my hints…Thanks for your loyalty! *squeals*
Amy: Yay! Thanks! *dances in a swollen-ego kind of way*
Kaimelieamin: LOL I have so many sadistic little stories rolling round in my head…I've been trying to write them down-hopefully I'll get one right someday!
AngelBloom: LOL YES! Another dedicated Orly fan! You're my new hero! Check it out, I'm scaring people cross-borders! How cool is THAT?! =^^=
Sabriel: *nods sagely* I was experimenting with ways to blend the two chapters together more seamlessly, but I couldn't find any…Sorry for any confusion J
Allora Gale: Muhaha…we'll see. Thanks for your review!! =^^=
Reviews here unanswered will be replied to in later chapters! *dances*
Notes about this chapter: A bit longer than my other chapters…hope this one isn't as awful as I think it is LOL…I'm really horrible at action scenes.
***
Aragorn stroked the stubble on his chin, looking over at the figure of the fitfully sleeping elf. Though countless days at the hands of a sadistic slaver had bruised his form, had plagiarized the untouched softness that was typical to Mellon's culture, the lad still emitted the sense of complete innocence.
"Hopefully your luck will change, from here on in," Aragorn murmured. He tossed a log from the pile he had built into the low fire, and was rewarded by a shower of sparks. The nights were growing steadily colder, and though Mellon had offered to return the bedroll Aragorn had lent him, the Ranger knew that cold added to the roughly-bandaged wounds of the elf would only worsen his condition.
~*~
Before dawn, on the fifth day the two spent in the clearing, Legolas awoke to the mournful call of a distant wolf. Alpha male, the elf thought, nimbly jumping to his feet. Or once was. Dominated, now-the Alpha Female sought out a better mate. Stifling a groan, Legolas framed the bandage on his navel with his fingertips, standing still until the pain lessened.
The cold rarely affected Legolas, but blood loss and the deliria that had followed had sincerely lowered his immunity. As the summer began to slope yet again into fall, the nights began to cool more systematically. Now, Legolas could see his breath as it materialized before his eyes with every exhalation.
Legolas looked leisurely around the clearing. It was large enough to be homely for one or two campers, for a time, but not for long. The forest surrounding was protective of it's clearing, growing tall and thick as if to cover it from wandering eyes. Fondly, the elf laid a hand on the bark of one of the trees, feeling the comforting warmth of the trunk seep into his palm.
Yavie quelluva, Legolas thought testily, leaning against the tree. At the back of his mind, Legolas heard the whispered response, and he nodded perceptively. "I hope that the nights to not become to cold for the human," he whispered. "He is too proud to admit when he feels it."
The man murmured something in his sleep, and buried his face into the crook of his arm. Legolas frowned sympathetically, before slowly scanning the clearing. "IT has been too long since I have ventured in these woods," he stated to himself.
His steps light, barely ruffling the dry undergrowth, Legolas merged himself with the woods.
~*~
When Aragorn awoke, far later than he would have liked, he found his bedroll had been awkwardly laid over his form. The elf was squatting before the fire, his hair skillfully braided back from his face. He held Aragorn's carving knife in one hand, the point balanced at the end of a perfectly carved shaft.
"What are you doing?" Aragorn murmured, his voice gruff from sleep. Legolas blinked up, unshaken by the man's sudden arousal.
"I'm afraid my quiver was stolen a long time ago," replied the elf, his voice distinctly mournful. "I've been up since quite early, making myself replacements." The elf's fingertip slowly traced up the perfect cylinder of his new arrow. Several others lay in neat rows at his side, with wooden tips.
Aragorn sat up, blinking away sleep. He leaned over the stewpot, bubbling with a thin, aromatic elvish broth. "I caught a quail. Thought you could use some warm food," Legolas said to the Ranger with a smile. Slowly, the elf slit a hairline cut along the grain of his arrow. He pulled a feather from the pile in his pocket, and slid it nimbly into the arrow.
Aragorn ladled a portion of the broth into his bowl, murmuring thanks before quickly eating it, observing the elf carefully working on his arrows. Nervously, for a reason he couldn't understand, Aragorn's palm touched the hilt of his blade.
"Don't," Legolas said, his eyes flicking up. He placed the final arrow at his side. "I mean no harm, Strider. This is for protection from others, not from you." The elf leaned over, picked up a homemade bow from the ground. It was fashioned from the same wood as the other, intricately curved, five feet from one tip to the next. It was strung with the familiar blonde of the elf's own hair.
Aragorn shook his head, and jerked his head slightly to the side. "Somebody approaches. Might they be seeking that man over there?" Aragorn gestured towards the trees.
Legolas nodded, notching an arrow, experimenting. He let the arrow fall loose, replacing it into the quiver he had fashioned from the hood of his cloak. "Aye. They've been tracking from afar for two days. They'll find his body by nightfall, and no matter how soon we live they will find us before midnight."
Aragorn blinked, astounded. Accusations leapt to his mind-why hadn't the elf told him earlier? But he suppressed them. "A..ah. How many?"
Legolas shrugged lightheartedly, rising to his feet. His few belongings were already packed on his body, and his makeshift quiver strapped to his back by use of his belt. "Half a dozen. They are robust men, I fear, though not courageous they certainly do not lack the strength to subdue an weaponless elf."
"We wait for them," Aragorn concluded. Rapidly, he unsheathed his blade, tilting it into the sunlight.
~*~
Their numbers, though small compared to ones that Aragorn had previously faced, were still not of the type he preferred. Three for each, man and elf, healthy and angry young men who would swear vengeance on their murdered friend.
"Ai!" snapped a voice through the dark. Legolas' eyes looked over towards his companion, glimmering mysteriously in the dark. Aragorn was taken aback by the fierce determination that snapped through the pupils, a sort of spirit that before Aragorn could have sworn the elf lost though rape and torture.
"Is he dead?" came a heavily accented voice. A softly murmured response went unheard to Aragorn's ears, but Legolas perked, laying a hand onto a tree.
"They are coming," he whispered, and leapt to his feet. He pressed his heel into a twig on the ground, the snap magnified to an impossible strength, the dark silence broken.
"There, there!" a third voice shouted. A hoarse, drunken voice roared out a hideous war cry, and before he could count to five, the fourteen men were upon the pair.
The moon lit the small clearing with an unsteady, blue light. Clouds moved over the moon, wind sending ripples through the tight canopy of the forest, and casting quivering shadows of trembling leaves over the ground.
Legolas furrowed his brow, notching an arrow in a single, flawless motion. Tracking the approaching men with keen eyes, he quickly fell two.
Aragorn and Legolas retreated to the far side of the clearing, a third arrow glancing through the air, striking an approaching man in the shoulder. Legolas swore loudly at the misfire, and bound forward, swift for a creature so injured. He danced expertly around the clearing, fists raised towards the injured man.
"You're that elf!" the man bellowed in sudden realization. The perfect curve of his sword was suddenly reflected in the elf's eyes. Quickly, the elf stepped backwards, lashing out with one arm. He felt the other man's jawbone crumple underneath his fist.
"Bastard," hissed the man. He bound forward, balancing his weight on his more powerful right foot, swiping with his blade. Legolas didn't worry about the cold steel as it grazed his already heavily injured stomach.
The elf's skim practically glowed in the night, such was the curse of his porcelain complexion. He knew the man could see him as well as he saw the man. Quickly, the elf drew behind the cover of a tree. The man followed, snarling in rage, to find the elf had disappeared.
The man sniffed viciously. His voice rang out, a poisonous snarl and a reminder of the wounds to Legolas' soul that had only begun to mend. "I smell you, vermin," the man's voice almost indistinguishable amidst the remnants of drink and the newer gashes of rage.
Legolas quivered, despite himself, withdrawing against the bark. The man was not far enough down, less than half a dozen branches. The man glanced about the forest floor, his grip on the hilt of his sword painfully tight.
If the elf climbed higher, he would risk being discovered. But lingering where he was, the odds against him heightened. Quick despite his nervous fingers, Legolas notched an arrow, aiming the point towards the top of the man's head.
The man looked up in time to see the arrow released, and he threw himself towards the tree, the arrow lodging itself firmly into the ground. The elf swore again, throwing his bow angrily aside. Without missing a beat, he threw himself towards the man.
Blindly, the man swung out with his sword, only to find his arm clasped tightly in slender fingers, immobilizing him. He struggled against the elf's surprising weight, as the pale warrior braced him against the tree. "Let go," hissed Legolas, his nails biting into the tender wrist of the man he fought.
"Gah!" swore the man, as his grip finally slackened. Legolas snatched up the blade, brandishing it threateningly towards the man. Fear crossed over his face, the malice in his eyes shedding to pure helplessness. He curled to the side, bracing his back against the warmth of the tree.
Legolas stepped to the side, standing threateningly above the man. His arm was held out, the tip of the blade a hairsbreadth from the man's lips. "You taunt," the man observed, fear clearly shown through a voice he tried to make sound gallant. "You have not the heart to kill me."
"And you," replied Legolas coldly. The blade he bore swung to the side, and was thrust into the elephantine chest of the grittily-clothed man, the blade piercing flesh, blood, bone and muscle, and finally lodging into the tree behind. Legolas snatched the blade back from the dead man's form, watching with a frosty pleasure as the man fell to the ground. Legolas's eyes swept the blade, bloodstained up to the hilt, tendrils of muscle and sinew clinging to the blade. "You've no heart left at all."
Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Legolas threw the blade into the underbrush. He gathered up his bow, and pulled his arrow from the ground, before returning to the nearby clearing.
Aragorn stood, his sword still at hand, and three men deposited lifelessly about his feet. With bloodied hands, the man swept his dripping hair from his eyes, and nodded over to the elf.
Legolas walked to Aragorn's side, his eyes sweeping over the three dead men. After a moment, he extended his hand, smiling curtly to his companion. "I'm Legolas," he said gently, his eyes dancing.
"Aragorn," replied the man, companionably enclosing the elf's hand in his own, and shaking it broadly.
***
Augh…I'm truly horrible at action scenes…But I did warn you! LOL…I could make this a conclusion, but there are still some things I want to resolve-were you completely turned off by this chapter? Or should I continue?
Much love and such! =^^=
~Kayte