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Author's Note: I have updated Chapter 5, so please re-read it before starting this Chapter.  The new version is so, so much better and will leave you better prepared for what's to come in the next few chapters.  Thanks, and sorry for the trouble.  

-Amia  :)

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Chapter Six: Rescue Rangers, Away!

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            "Merry?"

            "Honestly, Pippin!  We've got to save some food for tomorrow, you know!"

            The youngest of the Hobbits glowered beneath a snarl of dusty brown curls.  He sat legs-deep in his sleeping roll, the remains of his dinner resting on his lap.  "I wasn't going to say that, Brandybuck."

            "Oh," said Merry, and he cocked his head curiously.  "Well, what is it then?"

            "I thought we might call for Legolas, before we all go to sleep?  He'll want to keep a watch…"

            Meriadoc smiled fondly at the young one.  "You're right, Pip.  No sense old Sam losing sleep, when Legolas will be up all night anyways."  Turning toward the river, he realized that both watchman Sam and a decidedly tired-looking Frodo had overheard their conversation.  "All right, Sam?"

            "All right, Mister Merry," Sam said earnestly.

            "We should leave Legolas be, I think," said Frodo quietly, and his kinsmen all turned to look at him.  "I know he said he was going to scout, but I've half a mind he just wanted the peace and quiet."

            Pippin nodded skeptically, and turned to peer into the darkness.  Something unsettling was in the air, and it had left the Hobbit rather antsy.  "I think you're right, Frodo, but I should like to check on him just the same.  If we are sleeping, then he will have his peace and quiet.  It has been long since he left, and it's not like Legolas to keep us in the dark.  Please?  To settle my mind, if nothing else…"

            Frodo gave his young cousin a small smile, and clambered tiredly to his feet.  "Lead the way, Pippin."

            "I'll keep an eye on the fire," said Merry, and he poked said blaze, sending sparks high into the crisp night air.  "Keep together, mind."

            Sam leapt to his feet, and took Frodo's arm insistently.  The Ringbearer smiled faintly, and the pair followed Pippin from the fire-lit camp into the wooded dark.  They walked for the most part in silence, too tired and too focused upon spotting the Elf to make much conversation.  Occasionally one would stumble over a root or some trick of the shadows, but at long last they came over a hillock and found the ground before them trampled. 

            "Big Folk," said Sam, hunching over to inspect the footprints, "Lots of them, I reckon."

            "Booted ones," Pippin agreed, and the pair beamed at one another for lessons learned from their Ranger-friend.  "These tracks are fresh, and it looks like they were in a hurry!"

            Frodo felt an icy breath of wind on his neck, and grimaced.  It seemed that Pippin's fears were not wholly unfounded.  Foul deeds hung in the air, and abruptly he spun to face the younger Hobbits.  "We must find Legolas, and quickly.  Friendly folk do not leave such harsh marks…"

            Faces grimming, Sam and Pippin nodded.  The trio sped to a trot and followed the muddy trail, and began to call their missing friend's name.  "Legolas!" cried Pippin, "Where are you hiding?"

            They found what they would of him sooner than expected.  Past the immense trunks of several aged conifers, a scrap of grey-green cloth shimmered where it hung.  The Hobbits gasped, and clutched each other's hands…  The cloak, undoubtedly Legolas' from Lothlorien, was suspended at three times their height from a gnarled branch on the foremost tree.

            "No!" cried Sam, and shaking his hand free of Pippin's grip, he rushed towards the tree in vain.  Frodo made move to follow, but caught his oversized feet and fell heavily to the ground.  Hearing the muffled curses of his master, Samwise turned to meet the Ringbearer's grimace with one of his own.  "Are you all right, Mister Frodo?"

            "I will be," came the reply, "'Twas merely a branch…"

            Pippin plucked the offending object from the ground, and turned it over with shaking hands.  "This is no branch," he said, "it is the bow of Galadriel!"

            Frodo, though naturally pale, and unnaturally pale thanks to his stint as Ringbearer, turned paler still.  He rose to shaky feet, and felt panic rise in his throat.  "Samwise," he breathed, and the portly gardener rushed forth to grip his master's shoulders…  "Go to Merry, and pack our things at once.  Bring the ponies!"

            Without a word, Sam nodded emphatically, and turning he sped to his fullest sprint and quickly disappeared into the bush.  Pippin clutched the bow to his small chest, and with teary eyes he looked to Frodo.  "The string is broken.  He could not fight them…"

            Frodo put a firm hand on Pippin's shoulder.  "He fought regardless.  I am sure of it…"

***      

            "Mister Merry!"

            The Hobbit in question grunted irritably, as he had just settled into his sleeping roll and was quite ready for a good night's sleep.  Running dirty fingers through his tousled hair, he cracked an eye to look at the disturbance.  Sam was rushing about the campsite, cramming whatever he found loose into their traveling packs.  He kicked up a great deal of dirt and partially smothered the fire, and on his way past Merry to gather the ponies, he gave the Hobbit a stiff kick.  "Oi!  Sam, what's your fuss!?"

            Sam paused to look at him gravely, "Our Legolas is in trouble, Mister Merry, and he needs our help!"

            "Trouble?" 

            "Someone nabbed him, I reckon," said Sam with a pant, as he dropped Merry's pack into the younger Hobbit's lap.  "We found his bow and Elf-cloak…"

            Merry leapt to his feet, almost falling as his blankets twisted about his legs.  Strapping on his pack, and then securing Pippin's to a pony, he grabbed his sleeping roll and mounted the docile beast.  "Lead the way, Sam!  And hurry!"

            "Hurry?" Sam scowled as they urged their ponies faster, "No need to tell me!"

            Standing chest-high in bushes, quite undetected and grinning from ear to ear, it was all the man could do not to laugh aloud.  What threat did halflings with round bellies and butter-knives pose?  None.  Pint-sized rescue would not come to the Elf that night, nor any night that followed.  He would see to it personally.   

***

            The night sky had been dark in the first place, but the clouds that littered it were darker still.  They seemed, almost, to suck the light of Middle-earth and replace it with bucket after bucket of icy rain.  It made miserable work for the Hobbits.

            Though the initial scramble of panic had long since worn off, dread was beginning to settle into their hearts.  With every hour passed, they knew the chances of finding their Elf diminished.  The fact that he had been captured in the first place was perhaps the most unsettling thought of all.  Aside Aragorn, the Elf was the one member of the Fellowship who seemed never to falter.  Even Gandalf had fallen in Moria, had struggled with Saruman before the Fellowship was formed…  But Legolas was always there, always strong.  With bow, knives, or his deceptively fragile-looking fists, the Elf in battle was truly a force to be reckoned with.  Sharpest senses, stealth and speed unmatched, it must have been a formidable foe indeed to get the better of the Prince. 

            "How long have we been riding?"

            "Not long enough, Pippin," replied Frodo gravely, "we haven't found him yet."

            Pippin nodded bleakly.  The trail of footprints had become harder to follow once they reached higher, rain-sheltered ground, but it still wound through the trees alongside (though at some distance) the roaring Anduin.  If only Elladan and Elrohir had not left us!  It is sheer stupidity to think that four under-armed Hobbits might defeat the captor of an Elf-warrior like Legolas, and yet…  What else can we do?  I would ride back to find the twins if I had the vaguest idea of their direction, and Oi!  If only old Strider were here…

            Shaking his curly head, the Hobbit cleared his mind of doubt and trained his eyes on the path.  They would not fail in this.  The Elf had saved their lives time after time, and they were long overdue to repay his brave deeds.  No, we will not fail.  We simply cannot…

***

            "Here you are!" cried Elladan as he spotted his twin at long last.  Elrohir sat upon his haunches at River's side, handful of crimson berries forgotten in thought.  The Elf did not so much as flinch at his brother's sudden arrival, and upon examining him from horse-back, Elladan was not sure if the younger son of Elrond still drew breath, or if he were a masterpiece of stone carved by masters of the Riddermark.  "Elrohir…?"

            "Elladan."

            The reply was curt and not unexpected, but the fact that his brother had spoken heartened Elladan.  Elrohir typically spent days in conflict isolated, without a word or so much as a glance shared.   It tended only to worsen problems, and had caused a great deal of frustration in Imladris when the twins were young.  Promising as the speech may have been, Elladan hadn't an idea of how to begin.  You were rejected, brother mine, and thus you ran, and run, and your heart cracks under the stress.  How are you feeling?  The elder twin scoffed at the thought, and held out a small bag.  "Are you hungry?"

            Elrohir turned slowly, leveling his bloodshot eyes on those of his brother.  The sorrow therefound hit Elladan like a fist in the gut.  The bag dropped to the ground unnoticed, and Elrohir found himself gathered in his brother's arms.  Tucking his face into Elladan's shoulder, he closed his eyes tightly and took a shaky breath.  "I knew you'd come."

            Elladan chuckled softly.  "Just as I always have...  I am your elder brother, Elrohir, and hardly would be doing my job if I left you alone to stew."

            With a snort, Elrohir disentangled himself from the hug.  "To stew?"  Elladan smiled meekly, silently chiding himself for the poor choice of words.  Keeping his mouth wisely shut, he awaited a reaction.  After staring his twin down, Elrohir laughed softly.  "I suppose you are right.  The hurt in my heart was unbearable, and these dear trees have suffered as outlet...  And when all tears were spent, and my knuckles ground bare, I had naught to do but sit.  Sit, and think."

            "And have you come to any conclusions?" prompted Elladan gently, as the twins settled into lounged seats on the crab-grassed ground.  Elrohir simply shrugged.

            "None with legs strong enough."

            Elladan blinked, but slowly understood.  It was always that way with the twins, no matter how vague one's reference was, how obscure and disjointed a shared thought might be, the other always came to understand.  "In time," he began, "you will stand before Legolas...  Your legs will recover themselves, and stand strong beneath you.  They will grow to support your heavy heart, and then with muscles massed you will be light-hearted once more..."

            "And until then?"

            "Until then, my feet are planted next to yours."

            Elrohir smiled.  "Right where you always are.  Sometimes I wonder what I would do without you, Elladan."

            "So do I, Elrohir," grinned the Elf, "So do I."

            Smacking his elder brother playfully on the shoulder, Elrohir rolled his smoky, hazel eyes and the pair settled down to a small meal.  Speaking around a mouthful of lembas, the younger (but slightly taller) twin offered his brother several of the berries he had found.  "I should not have left in such haste.  I came with nothing but the clothes I am wearing, and the friendship and listening ears of Arlad…"

            Elladan turned to smile at the horse, who was grazing patiently several yards away with his own Nilithil.  "I was worried about you," he said quietly, "almost frightened of what I would find."

            "I'm sorry," said Elrohir, staring up at the sky and blinking back tears.  Hoping to change the subject, he pointed skyward with a slender finger.  "Look at the dark clouds!  They have rolled in unseen, and now we will be caught in the rain."

            "I rather like the rain," said Elladan thoughtfully, "but not when I can't escape it.  Where shall we go?"

            Elrohir thought on this long and hard, and by the time he re-met Elladan's gaze the first drops of rain had begun to fall.  He rose slowly to his feet, smoothing down his tunic, and moved to Arlad.  "I do not wish to return so soon," he admitted, "but if you do, then so be it. I will return to Minas Tirith, and test Adar's council for comfort."

            Nodding, Elladan rose to his considerable height.  "Then take my pack, I did not think to bring yours.  You will need sleeping things and some food, and I will likely catch up to the others by morning.  Be safe, 'Ro," he said, patting his brother on the shoulder fondly.  "I will see you in some months time, when we return from Mirkwood."

            "If not before," said Elrohir, and he put on his bravest smile. 

            "If not before," agreed Elladan, and with a smile of his own, they parted ways and the storm began to, truly, storm.  The night was growing.   

***

            "It's no use, Mister Frodo!"

            Frodo sighed heavily, and rose from his crouch to frown at the gardener.  "No, Sam?"

            "It's no good at all.  We'll never find the trail in this dark!"  It broke his heart to wait till morning, but for all the world Samwise Gamgee could think of no alternative.  It still stormed, and all moonlight was swallowed by the clouds well before it reached the treetops.  The canopy above their heads would allow for little light at the best of times, but now it was only by Sam's small torch they kept moving.  "The torch is burned to a nub, and I reckon we'll miss a good many clues if we try to pick our way in the dark!"

            "But, Sam…  We already trail Legolas by many miles!  How can we expect to catch up if they haven't taken rest tonight?"  The Ringbearer's voice was strained, and he ran small hands through his tangled hair.  Merry and Pippin, who still sat upon their ponies, shared what they could of a glance in the night.  Pippin, at last, in a voice that was too hollow for so boisterous a Hobbit, spoke.

            "You're right, Frodo," and for a brief second he paused, and Frodo smiled weakly at his cousin's apparent approval.  "But so is Sam.  I doubt they—"

            "Whoever they are," interrupted Merry dejectedly. 

            Pippin silenced him with a glare in the faint torchlight, and continued.  "I doubt they will rest long tonight, but we will have to rest eventually, and then they will regain their lead.  I wonder what good four Hobbits will be anyway, when they have managed to snare our Elf!" 

            "Oi, we know that…  No use clobbering our spirits, Pippin.  We've always got hope…" Merry barely whispered, eyes downcast.  Frodo put a thin arm round the taller Hobbit's shoulders, though he had to stand on the tips of his hairy toes to do it. 

            "Always hope, Merry, I won't deny that!  And one thing I do know, is that if we keep on tonight and wind up in dawn's first light completely off our trail, then we'll be in a right fix.  Time lost, and mayhap the trail for good.  If we sleep, we can take up the path easy in the morning, and follow it to its end.  If they wanted to kill Legolas," he said, logically, "they wouldn't have bothered 'napping him, would they?"

            Sam smiled and his eyes crinkled.  "There's hope, and no mistake!"

            The Ringbearer wrapped his arms around his young cousin, and marveled.  "When did you grow up so, Pippin?  It's hardly fitting for such a 'fool of a Took' to be so wise!"

            The tiny flame of their torch sputtered and went out, blanketing the foursome in complete darkness.  Thankfully, no one saw Pippin's blush at his cousin's kind words.  "Well, I am a soldier of Gondor…"

            "That you are!" cried Frodo, and with spirits somewhat lightened they settled down to sleep.

***

            "Well, what a surprise!  I must admit, I hadn't been expecting to see you again so soon!"  Elladan grinned down at the waterlogged figure, and began to pick his way down the cliffside.  Nilithil snorted her annoyance at being left behind, but the Elf whistled a cheery note and the horse made her way off to graze.  "Are you hurt badly, my friend?"

            "No," came the eventual reply, and the man, whose booted foot was pinned between the cliffside and a tree-trunk of massive girth, seemed nearly to weep with relief.  "Can you free me?  I have been here all night!"

            Elladan blinked in surprise, but moved quickly to assess the injured foot and it's confines.  Noting the lack of blood spilled, he smiled.  "You should be fine, once I get you free.  Where is Gandalf?  This is not the path you took upon leaving us in Ithilien!  What brings you to Rohan?"

            "Mithrandir and I were separated," said Hannor at once, and almost too quickly.  "By most-foul Wargs, and Legolas' horse sped me away bravely, but fell in the end.  I tried in vain to find my way back to the Wizard's side, but tripped in the dark and have been, as I told you, trapped here for the night."

            "Less than cozy, perhaps, though to an Elf it is a beautiful place.  Frustration and discomfort may cloud your vision, Hannor, but you have rather good taste.  This gully is handsome indeed, a perfect site for camp.  Brace yourself, friend, and I will pull your foot loose."

            Hoom, hoom.  There came a rumbling touch-close, and it startled both Hannor and Elladan out of their wits.  "Do not be hasty, young Elf, in undoing my work.  Hoom, hoom.  He is stuck here so that I might sit, and think, and ponder, and deliberate, and mull and muse, and…"

            Elladan gaped.  "An Ent!  What on Middle-earth are you doing so far south, old friend?"

            "Be not so hasty to ask questions of me, young Elf, we have not been properly introduced!   As my name in Old Entish would outdo your patience, you may call me Taproot."  The Ent bent its trunk slightly to bow, and blinked his huge amber eyes.  After a particularly hearty 'hoom', he looked down to the awed Elladan expectantly. 

            The Elf bowed low. "I am Elladan, son of Lord Elrond of Imladris..."

            "Hoom, Elrond's son!  Hoom, hoom!" cried Taproot, if an Ent was ever so hasty.  "It is a pleasure to meet you, young Elladan.  It has been many, many years since your father traveled ever and anon through Fangorn Forest, but I will not soon forget him, nor Celebrían his wife."

            Elladan smiled, "The pleasure is mine, Taproot of harsh bark and deepest greens!"  The compliment seemed to please the old Ent, so he continued somewhat, well… hastily.  "Pray tell, what are you doing south even of the Entwash?"

            Taproot 'hoom'ed a great deal, though it was softer than before, and when Elladan began to wonder if he would get an answer, the rich voice sounded.  "Searching, hoom.  You have not seen the Entwives, in your travels?  Hoom, hoom."

            Sympathy clouded Elladan's eyes at once, "Nay, I am sorry…  But do not lose faith, for I was not looking.  How came you upon Hannor, my new friend?"

            "So many questions," said Taproot.  "Choose your friends wisely," the word was hopelessly drawn out, and Elladan resisted the urge to squirm impatiently.  "This one, hoom, is full of rot and worm-holes."

            Elladan raised an eyebrow, and looked down at Hannor.  The messenger looked weary to be sure, and was certainly in need of a bath, but it was his eyes that gave him away.  There was a hard look to them, and guilt warred with anger in their depths.  Elladan's face hardened.  "Ah, Hannor.  What have you to say for yourself?"

            Grimacing as he tried to pull his foot from his trapped boot, the messenger said nothing, but did not break Elladan's stony gaze.  After a tense silence, his resolve cracked,  "The Tree-shepherd knows nothing."

            "It would be rather hasty," began Elladan, "of an Ent to trap a Man without reason."

            "Hoom, his horse reared and pitched him to my roots," said Taproot.  "The beast was of Elven-care and knew very well his rider was rotten.  Hoom, hoom.  He was after a party of particularly hasty Hobbits, hoom."

            Elladan's eyes narrowed further, and he stepped away from the Man.  Hannor screamed suddenly in fury and tore at the sparse grass with white-knuckled fists.  "Do not listen to this ancient weed!  What would you do, Elladan son of Elrond, leave me to starve and turn to dust?!"

            Hoom, hoom.  Taproot leaned into Hannor's leg and the man cried out in pain.  "Goodness," he said slowly, thoughtfully, "How hasty I have become!"

            The Elf beamed up at Taproot, who seemed oddly pleased with himself.  Taproot, Elladan decided, must be a young, rather hasty Ent, comparatively speaking of course.  Putting two fingers to his lips, he blew two sharp and distinctly different whistles.  After a moment, Nilithil appeared at the top of the cliff, with, lo and behold, another horse at her side.  Coat a shimmering gold, even in the dark, it was unmistakably Legolas' 'fallen' horse Lhuniâ.  It was all Elladan needed to see.  "I have no means to keep a prisoner, Taproot, nor any desire to set this liar free.  What wise council can you spare me?"

            Taproot hoomed thoughtfully, and then it seemed to Elladan that he got rather a nasty glint in his eye, as if he had spotted an axe-wielding Dwarf nearby.  "I will keep him.  Return soon and pay me visit in Fangorn, son of Elrond Peredhil, you are most welcome."

            "My thanks," said Elladan, "I will keep sharp my Elven-eyes for any sign of the Entwives."

            Taproot rumbled gratefully, and Elladan scaled the cliff easily and lead the horses to the trail.

***          

            Slowly and seemingly one-by-one his senses returned to him, and he gasped desperately for a breath of air, but little came.  Coarse, thick fabric rubbed his face where it rested, crude and tightly-wrapped enough to limit his air supply but not render him unconscious.  A blessing or a curse, with the fog on his mind he couldn't be sure.  He was on horseback—no, slung over the shoulders of a massive and fast-moving stranger…

            A foul reek greeted his bloodied nose, acrid and nearly tangibly so.  Impossibly strong ropes cut into his wrists, and all feeling in his feet was lost—undoubtedly thanks to further bindings.  His head pounded mercilessly, but all hurts were overruled by the agony in his shoulder.  The arrow still penetrated his body, and his tunic and jerkin were soaked in blood for it, sticky and crimson-stained.  The head itself was near its exit, but it was unlikely to say the least that anyone here would help…  As it was, the wound was attempting to heal around the intruding body, and every move caused agonizing tearing of the damaged tissue.  It was fitting, of course, that his ride strode with a great bounce in every step.  He wouldn't have expected any less.

            Counting his captor's strides to focus his mind, Legolas was reminded at once of the party of Hobbits he had left behind.  Had anything happened to them?  Perhaps they were right at his side, gagged and bound… Suffering.  Perhaps they were already dead.  The thought chilled him to the core, as the cheeky, round faces of Merry and Pippin appeared in his mind's eye.  There were steadfast Sam and sweet, tortured Frodo.  The Hobbits were depending on him, and he would not let them down.  Not so long as he drew breath.

            As he sank slowly into unconsciousness, the face of King Elessar sprung unbidden to mind.  Aragorn, Legolas thought sadly, as the darkness began to win over, My Estel.  Mellonamin, melamin.  My Estel…

***

Okay, that took entirely too long.  I'm sorry!  I have lots of excuses, but I won't list them.  I'll just say that I've been freakishly busy lately, and admittedly, generally uninspired.  The reviews are still awesome, especially from those of you (you know who you are) who took the time to write me big ones…  I love you for it.  Honestly!  I'm tempted to do the whole personalized thank-you thing, but as I haven't at all so far, it'd be a lot of catching up, considering I've got 90 reviews right now.  I've still got a little catching up to do with the 'review-for-a-review' deal, but I'm working on it.  It's a lot of reading.  So, for this chapter:  I hope you guys don't mind my Ent too much, or my shoddy treatment of Legolas.  At least I didn't kill him off, hmm?  :D  Next chapter should be a lovely and action-packed…  Whenever it makes it's appearance…  Hehe.        

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