Thank you to everyone who has sent in a review. I'm on vacation, waiting impatiently to see TTT again. This story is helping me make it through until then and hopefully beyond.
*** *** ***
The moment Aragorn was safely out the second floor window bearing Legolas his weapons, Vanasulë and Elladan moved toward the stairs.
"Elrohir, you take the stables. Give most of them a chance to get inside the inn, then clean up any stragglers," Vanasulë automatically took over as head strategist. "Elladan, you and I shall hold them off at the stairs. Anyone using a missile weapon is targeted first."
"This is supposed to be new to me?" Elladan queried.
"We have not fought side by side in many a year." The older Elf grinned at his friend. "Let us hope we do as well today, for I fear you and I shall take the brunt of it."
"It is not us I worry about."
"Legolas will make sure Aragorn comes to no harm. This will be good experience for him."
"But, Vanasulë, he has never had to fight other Men before." Elladan's voice conveyed his own distress at having to fight Men. "Despite the fact that I think of him as my brother, he is a Man."
"Sometimes fighting is unavoidable. We shall offer to let them surrender, but I fear they will not agree." Opening the door to their spacious quarters, Vanasulë lead the way out to the stairs.
By the time the two warriors got into position, Dwalkin had fled the common room. A large number of Men, their unwashed bodies scenting the air with sweat and the pungent order of horse, were settling near the fire, which provided the only light in the dim room.
Halfway down the steps, the two Elves paused. They had their bows, arrows knocked, in their hands. No one seemed to have noticed them. The Men below were complaining about the storm, the snow, the lack of women in the town. The Elves stood poised, still as stone, waiting for the marauders to finish entering. The dim light did not affect their Elven sight.
A few men went off in search of food, but there were still over a dozen huddled by the fire.
"Excuse me," Elladan called politely. "But we have heard about your past raids upon the town and we give you a chance to surrender now or die."
The mumbled conversation halted at Elladan's first word as every eye in the room turned toward the stairs.
"Surrender?" The largest of the Men looked the Elves up and down. "To what army?"
"To us." Elladan gestured to Vanasulë with a gesture of his head, his eyes still upon the rabble below.
His answer brought a round of laughter. The leader stepped closer. "You two pretty boys think you can take us on, do you?" He squinted as he tried to see them more clearly. "I eat your kind for lunch."
"This is your last chance." Vanasulë spoke slowly. He wanted to make sure these people understood what he said. "Surrender now or die this day."
"Did you hear that, Susai?" one of the Men called to the leader. "He's giving us a chance. How kind of him."
With a growl, another marauder pulled a throwing axe from his belt. It was all the impetus the Elves needed. Vanasulë's bow sang of death and a white-fletched arrow buried itself in the axe-thrower's forehead right between the eyes.
A vexed murmur began to build, outrage mingled with disbelief, as the Men realized what had happened. It had been so fast, none had seen Vanasulë draw his bow, yet he already had another arrow knocked.
"Last chance," Elladan called.
A wave of anger washed across the room. Men drew weapons, and almost as quickly as their weapons left their sheathes, deadly-accurate arrows flew from bows.
Susai was quick to toss a table on its side and take cover. He called for the axe-throwers to throw their weapons. Two more men scuttled on hands and knees to cower beside him.
The moment one of the marauders tried to raise a weapon against the Elves, he was cut down.
"Rush them," Susai called. He and the two men behind the table with him picked it up and rushed towards the stairs. They had not planned their attack well. The table was wider than the stairs and the railing barred their progress past the first few steps.
"This is pathetic," Elladan whispered in Sindarin. Then louder, in the common tongue he called, "Do none of you wish to live?"
"No one surrenders, or I kill him myself!" Susai growled from behind his table-shield.
"Let's set the inn on fire and burn them out," someone suggested.
"Touch the fire and you die," Vanasulë warned.
No one dared move. It was a standoff. Only five of the marauders remained alive. Elladan and Vanasulë were unscathed.
The front door of the inn opened. Susai turned to look, expecting to see more of his followers. Instead there was another tall, longhaired youth. He carried an strange long sword with a curved blade.
"Need any help?" Elrohir called from the doorway.
One of the marauders by the door panicked and attempted to flee past Elrohir. An arrow hit him in the shoulder and he dropped to one knee in pain, but did not let go his weapon.
"I would drop your sword if I were you," Elrohir told the man. "My sword is longer than yours."
The man looked over at Susai. Frustrated, the leader of the marauders yelled a curse, picked up the table and tossed it sideways up the stairs, causing the two Elven archers to retreat a few steps back.
"Get him. He'll be our hostage!" Susai yelled at the wounded man who knelt before Elrohir.
"I think not," Elrohir warned the man, holding his sword between them.
The other man in the room picked up an axe from one of his fallen comrades and threw it at Elrohir, who easily deflected it with his sword.
A bow twanged and the man fell dead. "Attack my brother and you die, too," Elladan told the kneeling man.
Vanasulë drew his sword and faced the three Men on the stairs. He kicked the table down towards them, and followed in his wake. Steel glittered in his bright eyes.
"Stay together," Susai urged his Men. Yet even his black heart shrank at the sight of the swordsman bearing down upon them, his strange long sword held more like a quarterstaff than a regular sword.
With a war cry, Susai and his men tossed the table aside and rushed to meet Vanasulë. The long curved blade of the Elf moved forward, catching the light of the fire, glittering red for a moment before swinging up, then across. Its deadly steel sliced easily through the armor of the marauders, cutting the man on the left from stomach to throat before slicing across the neck of the man on Susai's right. In a moment, only Susai was left standing, his eyes wide in shock as he recognized his own death in the El's flashing eyes.
Setting his jaw, Susai still came on, the reach of his sword no match for the Elf's.
In a moment it was over. Only one marauder remained alive kneeling before Elrohir and he had an arrow buried in his shoulder.
"I take it you surrender," Elrohir said to him.
The man seemed to deflate. He fell back on his heels, holding his empty good hand up for Elrohir to see. "What are you people?" he asked in a hoarse voice.
"We are Elves. Ever heard of us?" Elrohir asked, moving to kick the man's sword away. "Yes, I see that you have."
"I thought you were all gone," the Man told him.
"Not all. Not yet."
The back door of the room opened and Legolas entered, Aragorn behind him. The two looked at the carnage with sad acceptance, their expressions almost identical.
"What is this, a new fashion?" Elladan asked, coming down the stairs. His glance was upon Legolas, who had buckled his weapons harness on over a bare chest.
"Do you think it will catch on?" Legolas' left brow rose.
"Not unless you comb your hair." Elladan smiled.
"Where is Dwalkin?" Elrohir came further into the room and sheathed his sword. "Does anyone have any rope?" His gaze went down to their wounded prisoner.
"What he needs is a Healer," Vanasulë announced. He walked over to the Man, who looked up with dread in his eyes.
"You going to pull it out?" the Man asked.
"I will try not to hurt you." Vanasulë pulled up a chair and gestured to the man to sit. He then pulled up another chair and sat facing the man's shoulder. "Listen to what I say."
Aragorn moved closer. He had not seen Vanasulë heal before. The Elf spoke softly to the man and Aragorn caught only the rhythmic rise and fall of the speech, not the words himself. He saw the prisoner's eyes close, his head slump forward.
"Hold him," Vanasulë asked no one in particular. Aragorn moved forward quickly to hold the man steady. He appeared to be asleep.
His eyes focused upon the man's wound, Vanasulë seemed to look beyond the skin and muscle. "It has hit the bone," he said softly. Bracing the man with one hand, he used the other to swiftly pull the arrow free.
As expected, blood gushed from the wound. Instead of reaching for herbs or dressings, as Aragorn expected him to do, Vanasulë held his cupped hands over the wound, not touching it. The Ranger bent closer, wondering what sort of healing this was.
At first, all he could see was the normal dim glow of light around the bare flesh of all Elves. Then it began to grow. Aragorn sucked in his breath as the light around Vanasulë's hands turned to a pink-gold color, brightening in intensity. Aragorn's gaze rose to the Healer's face. He found a look of intense concentration there, which was slowly replaced by something akin to bliss.
Aragorn could feel it, too. Perhaps because of his contact with the object of the healing, but a sense of otherworldliness crept over him. He closed his eyes and could see a light there, so beautiful it brought tears to his eyes.
Several moments later Aragorn heard Elrohir say. "You can release him now." A gentle hand touched his shoulder. Blinking, Aragorn looked down to see that the wound in the man's shoulder was completely gone, as if it had never been. Vanasulë still sat in the nearby chair with a sublime look on his face.
"How did you do that?" Aragorn managed to ask.
"I am a channel," Vanasulë told him looking down. His speech was slow, as if he found it difficult to form the words. "It is the power of the Valar that healed this man." His blue eyes rose. His gaze met Aragorn's. "It is a gift."
"And what is the light I saw?" Aragorn asked in awe.
"You saw the light?" Legolas asked, stepping up behind Vanasulë.
Aragorn nodded.
"It is the light of Elbereth that you saw, Aragorn," Legolas explained. "It is the very light of the Vala."
*** *** ***
The moment Aragorn was safely out the second floor window bearing Legolas his weapons, Vanasulë and Elladan moved toward the stairs.
"Elrohir, you take the stables. Give most of them a chance to get inside the inn, then clean up any stragglers," Vanasulë automatically took over as head strategist. "Elladan, you and I shall hold them off at the stairs. Anyone using a missile weapon is targeted first."
"This is supposed to be new to me?" Elladan queried.
"We have not fought side by side in many a year." The older Elf grinned at his friend. "Let us hope we do as well today, for I fear you and I shall take the brunt of it."
"It is not us I worry about."
"Legolas will make sure Aragorn comes to no harm. This will be good experience for him."
"But, Vanasulë, he has never had to fight other Men before." Elladan's voice conveyed his own distress at having to fight Men. "Despite the fact that I think of him as my brother, he is a Man."
"Sometimes fighting is unavoidable. We shall offer to let them surrender, but I fear they will not agree." Opening the door to their spacious quarters, Vanasulë lead the way out to the stairs.
By the time the two warriors got into position, Dwalkin had fled the common room. A large number of Men, their unwashed bodies scenting the air with sweat and the pungent order of horse, were settling near the fire, which provided the only light in the dim room.
Halfway down the steps, the two Elves paused. They had their bows, arrows knocked, in their hands. No one seemed to have noticed them. The Men below were complaining about the storm, the snow, the lack of women in the town. The Elves stood poised, still as stone, waiting for the marauders to finish entering. The dim light did not affect their Elven sight.
A few men went off in search of food, but there were still over a dozen huddled by the fire.
"Excuse me," Elladan called politely. "But we have heard about your past raids upon the town and we give you a chance to surrender now or die."
The mumbled conversation halted at Elladan's first word as every eye in the room turned toward the stairs.
"Surrender?" The largest of the Men looked the Elves up and down. "To what army?"
"To us." Elladan gestured to Vanasulë with a gesture of his head, his eyes still upon the rabble below.
His answer brought a round of laughter. The leader stepped closer. "You two pretty boys think you can take us on, do you?" He squinted as he tried to see them more clearly. "I eat your kind for lunch."
"This is your last chance." Vanasulë spoke slowly. He wanted to make sure these people understood what he said. "Surrender now or die this day."
"Did you hear that, Susai?" one of the Men called to the leader. "He's giving us a chance. How kind of him."
With a growl, another marauder pulled a throwing axe from his belt. It was all the impetus the Elves needed. Vanasulë's bow sang of death and a white-fletched arrow buried itself in the axe-thrower's forehead right between the eyes.
A vexed murmur began to build, outrage mingled with disbelief, as the Men realized what had happened. It had been so fast, none had seen Vanasulë draw his bow, yet he already had another arrow knocked.
"Last chance," Elladan called.
A wave of anger washed across the room. Men drew weapons, and almost as quickly as their weapons left their sheathes, deadly-accurate arrows flew from bows.
Susai was quick to toss a table on its side and take cover. He called for the axe-throwers to throw their weapons. Two more men scuttled on hands and knees to cower beside him.
The moment one of the marauders tried to raise a weapon against the Elves, he was cut down.
"Rush them," Susai called. He and the two men behind the table with him picked it up and rushed towards the stairs. They had not planned their attack well. The table was wider than the stairs and the railing barred their progress past the first few steps.
"This is pathetic," Elladan whispered in Sindarin. Then louder, in the common tongue he called, "Do none of you wish to live?"
"No one surrenders, or I kill him myself!" Susai growled from behind his table-shield.
"Let's set the inn on fire and burn them out," someone suggested.
"Touch the fire and you die," Vanasulë warned.
No one dared move. It was a standoff. Only five of the marauders remained alive. Elladan and Vanasulë were unscathed.
The front door of the inn opened. Susai turned to look, expecting to see more of his followers. Instead there was another tall, longhaired youth. He carried an strange long sword with a curved blade.
"Need any help?" Elrohir called from the doorway.
One of the marauders by the door panicked and attempted to flee past Elrohir. An arrow hit him in the shoulder and he dropped to one knee in pain, but did not let go his weapon.
"I would drop your sword if I were you," Elrohir told the man. "My sword is longer than yours."
The man looked over at Susai. Frustrated, the leader of the marauders yelled a curse, picked up the table and tossed it sideways up the stairs, causing the two Elven archers to retreat a few steps back.
"Get him. He'll be our hostage!" Susai yelled at the wounded man who knelt before Elrohir.
"I think not," Elrohir warned the man, holding his sword between them.
The other man in the room picked up an axe from one of his fallen comrades and threw it at Elrohir, who easily deflected it with his sword.
A bow twanged and the man fell dead. "Attack my brother and you die, too," Elladan told the kneeling man.
Vanasulë drew his sword and faced the three Men on the stairs. He kicked the table down towards them, and followed in his wake. Steel glittered in his bright eyes.
"Stay together," Susai urged his Men. Yet even his black heart shrank at the sight of the swordsman bearing down upon them, his strange long sword held more like a quarterstaff than a regular sword.
With a war cry, Susai and his men tossed the table aside and rushed to meet Vanasulë. The long curved blade of the Elf moved forward, catching the light of the fire, glittering red for a moment before swinging up, then across. Its deadly steel sliced easily through the armor of the marauders, cutting the man on the left from stomach to throat before slicing across the neck of the man on Susai's right. In a moment, only Susai was left standing, his eyes wide in shock as he recognized his own death in the El's flashing eyes.
Setting his jaw, Susai still came on, the reach of his sword no match for the Elf's.
In a moment it was over. Only one marauder remained alive kneeling before Elrohir and he had an arrow buried in his shoulder.
"I take it you surrender," Elrohir said to him.
The man seemed to deflate. He fell back on his heels, holding his empty good hand up for Elrohir to see. "What are you people?" he asked in a hoarse voice.
"We are Elves. Ever heard of us?" Elrohir asked, moving to kick the man's sword away. "Yes, I see that you have."
"I thought you were all gone," the Man told him.
"Not all. Not yet."
The back door of the room opened and Legolas entered, Aragorn behind him. The two looked at the carnage with sad acceptance, their expressions almost identical.
"What is this, a new fashion?" Elladan asked, coming down the stairs. His glance was upon Legolas, who had buckled his weapons harness on over a bare chest.
"Do you think it will catch on?" Legolas' left brow rose.
"Not unless you comb your hair." Elladan smiled.
"Where is Dwalkin?" Elrohir came further into the room and sheathed his sword. "Does anyone have any rope?" His gaze went down to their wounded prisoner.
"What he needs is a Healer," Vanasulë announced. He walked over to the Man, who looked up with dread in his eyes.
"You going to pull it out?" the Man asked.
"I will try not to hurt you." Vanasulë pulled up a chair and gestured to the man to sit. He then pulled up another chair and sat facing the man's shoulder. "Listen to what I say."
Aragorn moved closer. He had not seen Vanasulë heal before. The Elf spoke softly to the man and Aragorn caught only the rhythmic rise and fall of the speech, not the words himself. He saw the prisoner's eyes close, his head slump forward.
"Hold him," Vanasulë asked no one in particular. Aragorn moved forward quickly to hold the man steady. He appeared to be asleep.
His eyes focused upon the man's wound, Vanasulë seemed to look beyond the skin and muscle. "It has hit the bone," he said softly. Bracing the man with one hand, he used the other to swiftly pull the arrow free.
As expected, blood gushed from the wound. Instead of reaching for herbs or dressings, as Aragorn expected him to do, Vanasulë held his cupped hands over the wound, not touching it. The Ranger bent closer, wondering what sort of healing this was.
At first, all he could see was the normal dim glow of light around the bare flesh of all Elves. Then it began to grow. Aragorn sucked in his breath as the light around Vanasulë's hands turned to a pink-gold color, brightening in intensity. Aragorn's gaze rose to the Healer's face. He found a look of intense concentration there, which was slowly replaced by something akin to bliss.
Aragorn could feel it, too. Perhaps because of his contact with the object of the healing, but a sense of otherworldliness crept over him. He closed his eyes and could see a light there, so beautiful it brought tears to his eyes.
Several moments later Aragorn heard Elrohir say. "You can release him now." A gentle hand touched his shoulder. Blinking, Aragorn looked down to see that the wound in the man's shoulder was completely gone, as if it had never been. Vanasulë still sat in the nearby chair with a sublime look on his face.
"How did you do that?" Aragorn managed to ask.
"I am a channel," Vanasulë told him looking down. His speech was slow, as if he found it difficult to form the words. "It is the power of the Valar that healed this man." His blue eyes rose. His gaze met Aragorn's. "It is a gift."
"And what is the light I saw?" Aragorn asked in awe.
"You saw the light?" Legolas asked, stepping up behind Vanasulë.
Aragorn nodded.
"It is the light of Elbereth that you saw, Aragorn," Legolas explained. "It is the very light of the Vala."