-Shadows on the Snow-

By: Bill the Pony

Rating: PG-13 (violence)

Spoilers: Rising Storm (my own fic), perhaps the trilogy.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters do not belong to me, but to Tolkien or whoever owns them at the moment. I only have my muses and Fasse, Gorban, Ralamir, Falmarin and all other obscure characters.

Summary: Two months after the event in Dunland (told in Rising Storm) Aragorn and Legolas set out to escort Fasse to Rohan. Unfortunately, an early winter is not foreseen until it hits the three full force, bringing with it the danger of the wild.

Note: I have gone through much toil trying to bring up excuses this story might fit in with the event of the books. I can only guess that this comes a good two years to two and a half before the start of the Fellowship of the Ring and the War of the Ring. I had to figure a way to get Legolas back in Mirkwood before the Council scene so Gollum can do his thing, and Aragorn on the prowl with the hobbits. I think this slides in okay. With the help of Tehalanae (and some other wonderful people) on the Mellon Chronicles group (shameless plug for Cassia and Sio) I took her estimates and plugged them in with some average traveling time to get my overall time this story takes up, and I think it works! One more thing, I don't know much about Eregion or, Hollin, so I'm kind of winging it from what I do know (that isn't much). So sorry for the inaccuracies, I do my best. It's fiction, what can I say?

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Shadows on the Snow

Part 4

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Grieving would not pass from Aragorn's heart for a long while. Ralamir was gone. He was numb to any other thought save his mourning. Ralamir had always been a taste of home wherever he went, offering his silent company when Aragorn felt the pangs of loneliness in his ranging.

Now riding behind Legolas on Falmarin he felt that the loss was more than he could bear. Silently, they made their way towards the settlement knowing that if they hazarded to continue immediately, the wargs would only regroup and try again once they passed the relative safety of the village. Though strong Falmarin was, it would be improbable that the horse could outrun the beasts again with two being upon his back. But even safety in Eregion was questionable.

Legolas had drawn his hood up to shadow his face, not wishing to risk the peering of unfriendly eyes. This felt too much like Dunland for his liking. He could only hope that this did not become as twisted as their 'adventure' in that hostile land. As they drew nearer to the settlement, Legolas's keen eyes picked out the movement of the sentries who were questioning any incoming strangers. If he were asked, he would have preferred for Aragorn to do the talking, but as it was he could not count on Aragorn this time. The man sat stonily silent behind him, having said no word to him since they had fled the wargs. Worry ate at Legolas's heart, but he knew he could not do anything about that yet.

Fasse had also been much quieter than usual. His eyes were yet filled with tears and an occasional quake of his shoulders hinted his grief. Though he bore no love for the art of riding a horse, his heart was broken at the death of a good and faithful bearer. Any being, with even the slightest humanity, that had been present to witness Aragorn's sorrow at Ralamir's death, could not help but feel a twinge of sympathy.

"Halt," the swarthy man stepped close to Legolas's horse noticing that the creature bore no bit. "What business have you in these parts? You look as though you have been chased by the breath of a demon."

"You are close," Legolas said wryly, lowering his voice to hide his fair voice. "Wargs have pursued us we have only just escaped them."

The guard eyed them up and down, glancing at Aragorn who was looking back to the forest, his eyes lost. "And lost one of your beasts as well by the look of it."

Legolas felt Aragorn tense behind him. "Aye, but not needlessly," he said quietly, more on behalf of Aragorn than the guard. "We wish only to stay for a few days at the most and recover some supplies."

The Hollin man weighed his words, then nodded stepping back allowing them to pass. Taking Aragorn's usual course of action, Legolas went in search of a decent inn. The streets looked greatly more hospitable than Dunland had. It was the inn of the Lonely Traveler, oddly enough, that was Legolas's first pick. Dismounting, Legolas made a convincing show of loosening his horse's cinch while really speaking quietly with the horse. "Falmarin, you will stand out among these people, if threatened, do not hesitate to flee." Legolas paused, his breath nearly catching. "I cannot bear to lose you too." The grey bobbed his head slightly, turning to touch the elf's arm with his muzzle. Legolas smiled and patted Falmarin's shoulder.

Leading the way, Legolas drew a deep breath and opened wide the door to the inn. Fasse's face warmed at once to the orange glow of the room and the shelter of the roof. Anything out of the snow and cold was good enough for him. As for Aragorn, he followed silently in their wake, staring at nothing. Legolas wished for nothing else than for his friend to wake from this trance, he felt more than a little unsure of how to proceed in an establishment such as this. Taverns and inns were not places that elves frequented. His face still shadowed by his hood he pushed his way through the jostling crowd.

"And what may I do for you, sir?" The rounded man swiveled to Legolas the moment the elf had drawn close to the tables.

"A room if at all possible."

"And a warm meal with some…"

Legolas looked sharply at Fasse, who was all to eager but too settle down here. "Just a room, thank you. We have two horses tied outside with a donkey."

The innkeeper pursed his lips under a ragged mustache, but nodded. For a moment he disappeared under the eve of the counter. There was a jingling of keys then he reappeared with a single iron key. "Crowded tonight with this weather, you're in luck! This is one of the last rooms open. Just go up those stairs and straight until you reach the last door on the right. I'll have your horses stabled." Then with a flashed grin, the rotund character bustled off to attend to another customer.

Fasse sidled up to the elf as they climbed the short flight of stairs. "You know, you really don't have to be so…irritable."

Unfortunately for the diminutive wizard, Legolas was in no mood to be trifled with. "Fasse, you are no better than a hobbit when it comes to your stomach. There are more pressing priorities in life than to make yourself happy." Legolas rounded on Fasse, his voice low and hissed. "If I sought to appease my desires, then I would return to the wild and maim and destroy every last warg that yet draws breath. But in my anger, I would do not good." The elf turned on a heel and stalked down the hallway leaving Fasse to stare after him.

They were all tired, some more than others. Aragorn was bone weary and all he wished was to collapse in a heap and be allowed his time of grief. Emotionally, there was nothing left in him, he had shed his last tears over Ralamir's thick mane. As if a dream had engulfed him, he felt the comfort of a bed beneath him, a pillow beneath his head. He could almost imagine he was back home. Home…

Legolas helped the dazed ranger to one of the two beds. Without resistance the human sunk to the worn mattress. Barely had Aragorn's head touched the pillow that his eyes closed in heavy sleep. The elf lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, letting his posture sag. He himself wished for nothing more than a long dreamless rest, but there were yet wounds to dress and decisions to make.

"Would you like to have the bed, Legolas?" Fasse asked quietly, unsure of the elf's mood at the moment. Even though the elf shook his head, Fasse had to admit that he had never seen an elf so exhausted. Closely, he watched as the elf drew off his long cloak, folding it in his arms. Though he was not astute in the mannerisms and health matters of elves, a torn and bloodied shoulder never was a healthy attribute. "What happened?" he asked dumbly as he stared at Legolas's shoulder. Legolas blinked, wondering for a moment what Fasse was talking about. At the elf's unsure expression, Fasse took it upon himself to remind Legolas by prodding the wound curiously.

Legolas hissed and drew back from Fasse's painful touch. "Are you trying to make my life miserable or is it just a past time?"

Fasse's bushy eyebrows peaked. "I was only trying to help," he muttered.

"By trying to make me bleed more?" Legolas glared but backed off on his momentary lack of restraint.

The wizard winced slightly, looking from the wound to his feet. "You probably should get it washed up, or something."

"You just don't back off do you?" Legolas said hotly as he preoccupied himself with tending to Aragorn's visible minor scratches. Though they really needed little attention, it was at least something useful he could give his hands to do.

Fasse sat on the edge of the opposite bed, watching the elf's administrations. He tried to stay awake as long as he could, perhaps be of help, but the day's harrowing events had had its toll upon his brittle bones. Sleep was beckoning, he couldn't help this time but submit.

So Legolas was left alone to his thoughts, depressing as they were. Ralamir was gone; it was a loss that was nearly equal to loosing one of your family, especially for Aragorn. Perhaps it would have been different if Ralamir had died of old age, or at least in the comfort and familiarity of home. But the horse had died valiantly, protecting his friend and master. That was honorable in itself, but for Aragorn, it would prove a trial of his heart with the questions which would arise from his own guilt. Such as, could he have done something to avoid the warg? Could he have killed the warg himself and spared Ralamir? If he knew Aragorn at all, that was the next step.

Never the less, they would have to push on to Rohan, at the least, if not Gondor. The chances were they – Legolas and Aragorn – would stop at the Rohan and leave Fasse there. They would be taking enough risks as it was traveling in winter, but to hazard the extra leg to Gondor would be far too hazardous. They would turn back after bidding farewell to Fasse in the safety of the city.

That was if all went well getting out of this settlement. The faces which had crowded the tavern below had been not in the least bit welcoming. More than likely, a few of them had seen him ride in, scarce of tack upon Falmarin but handling the spirited creature as if it were being led on a lead from the ground. And more than likely, a number had remembered the parting of the elves and recognized him for what race he was.

Legolas still did not fully understand the animosity which chaffed between the elven race and the blood of the men of Eregion. He had heard rumor of an evil which had festered unknown amongst the elves when they had lived in these parts, an evil that had not been destroyed, but lay in wait. Maybe this was what drove the elves from this land. He could not be sure.

Legolas heaved a heavy breath, lowering himself gingerly into a hard rocking chair near the window. Lamplight flickered below on the street that was otherwise deserted except for the snow which was drifting lazily from the slowly lightening sky. Legolas tilted his head, realizing that really, it was just turning morning. Daybreak would be in but a few hours. Again, he sighed, letting his head fall back against the headboard of the chair, rocking it slowly. It had been a long day, a long three days, really. As the sleepless tension filled nights weighed upon him, he let his thoughts slip from his worries and decisions, allowing blissful rest to abide in their wake.

---

"I knew it! I just knew you'd go and forget about yourself!" Fasse hissed when he awoke to see Legolas asleep, with half lidded eyes, in a chair and his neck in a position that would give him grief for days. It was the yet untended shoulder that riled the wizard. "Trust an elf to kill himself."

Aragorn stood behind Fasse, silent as before though his face bore a heavy frown. He was tempted to wake the elf but was hesitant to disturb his obviously deep rest. Upon awakening, he had been disoriented and unsure of his surroundings when finding himself in a warm bed. The sight of the sun, lancing through the windowpane. Had warmed his heart for the first time since…since last night. Yet the joyful sight also brought him pain. Ralamir's last sight had been a cold and sunless plain. Not even the moon had come out to say farewell. He turned away from the window, not wishing Fasse to see his barely restrained tears that pricked at the back of his eyes. Ralamir would not wish him to despair. He knew this, now he just had to accept it.

"Gah!" Aragorn looked over his shoulder at Legolas's shout to see the dignified elf lying on his back, his chair tipped off its rockers. In fact that was very much how the elf was looking at Fasse at the moment. "Why do you insist on making my life miserable?"

Fasse's hand was still frozen where Legolas's wounded shoulder had been. Legolas glowered at the wizard while pulling himself off the floor. His rude, and painful, awakening had done nothing but put him in foul mood. "Deary, deary! Do elves seek to make their own life miserable by letting their shoulder fester into a bacterial breeding ground?" Legolas gaped at him blankly, unsure of quite what the wizard had meant. Fasse waved his hands wildly, his face crumpling and twisting in fits of frustration.

Aragorn appeared behind the wizard, brightening Legolas's heart with a smile, though forced as it was. "He's right you know. You should get that taken care of, preferably sooner than later."

"So you are on his side then? You would rather poke and prod me than just let me heal?" The elf said with a frown.

"How are you to heal if it isn't cared for?"

"Naturally. Without painful salves or restrictive bandages."

"Then what of these? How did they heal?" Aragorn pointed to his arms where there had previously been four long raking scratches from a wargs claws that had begun to fade. "Tell me, did you not tend to them last night while I slept? Or is that some other kind of salve making these scratches fade?"

Legolas looked as if he were on the verge of pouting. "Aye, that was me. But remember," he waggled a finger at the ranger, "I am an elf and…"

"…We heal better than you humans." Aragorn quoted while suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, yes, I've heard that quite enough from you, and my brothers."

Legolas would not have submitted usually so soon in their argument, but he was really too relieved at Aragorn's emotional improvement that he didn't see the point in riling the human any more. If he knew his friend, doing something useful with his hands would help put Aragorn at ease.

While Aragorn busied himself over Legolas's shoulder, the three talked of their next advance. Noon had found them and Legolas was eager to be off. It was their plan that they would scrounge what food, warm clothing, and unspoken, a horse, then be off this very day. So far they had been fortunate enough not to be forced into any close dealings with the men here. Hopefully, their bartering for supplies would go just as smoothly as their stay at the inn.

Legolas stood, nursing his smarting shoulder. "I will go then. I trust you two can handle finding supplies." Then he added with a smile, "Since you will need them more than I." Legolas was heartened at Aragorn's half-hearted swat. He ducked from the room before Aragorn could threaten him further. The tavern below was just as crowded as before, making him wonder if perhaps some of these men did not just live in this room. Pulling his hood farther over his face, he stepped out into the open street. Cartwheels churned the snow and earth into sludge. Drawn by a great shire, the poor horse looked as if it had seen many days of toil with too little feed. His back was dipped and his feet were shamefully shod. Legolas frowned, this was no place to find a Mearas, but with a little aid from elven sense, he hoped to find at least a sound beast. I cannot search for a replacement for Ralamir, he reminded himself. Alas, that would be a doomed mission.

Trudging down the street, with all the human air he could muster, he went unnoticed mostly. His sharp eyes sized up every horse that he passed, though there were many, none of them looked close to anything that would survive even the shortest journey without collapsing. He frowned at the welts and sores that peppered many of the horses' backs. No wonder Falmarin had stood out so in the eyes of the men here.

But there was one that had potential. Legolas stood just beyond clear site, watching five men fighting vainly with an ill tempered black whose coat had yet to loose its yellow tips from the scorch of the sun. The stallion thrashed his head against the confining ropes which sought to tether and bind him. Two men already sat on the sidelines nursing cracked skulls and rope burned hands. The horse let free a blood curdling scream as a man dared come too close.

Legolas shook his head sadly at the pathetic attempts the men took at trying to tame the beast. No, they were not seeking to tame the horse, but to break it. Cursing, one of the men stepped back from the fray, grasping his bleeding forearm, with his other hand he drew a sword. He raised it, ready to slay the beast and rid himself of the trouble he had brought upon himself. "Stop!" The elf heard himself shouting without rightly thinking about what he had to say. "Why not allow me to take this horse off your hands and let me at least put him to use."

But the man would not see reason as he pulled away from Legolas's restraining hand. "The beast is dangerous." He narrowed his eyes, lowering his sword slightly, "And what would make you think that I'd give him freely to you."

Legolas weighed his words carefully. "Not freely then."

"Make me an offer." The man leaned upon his sword while a ways off the remainder of the men were unsuccessfully trying to bridle the horse.

"Twelve silver pennies," Legolas said, though it was higher than anything the man could hope for. But Legolas saw potentially a strong-bodied horse that could be mellowed by the elvish hand. He was willing to pay the price of the man.

The Eregion man pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Twelve? Surely you do not take me for a clueless horse trader. Look at the beast's chest, it is as broad as a beer keg!"

Legolas fixed him with a shadowed gaze, freezing the man's excuses. "Twelve. Or would you rather be a fool and slay it and gain nothing?"

The man sheathed his sword then, thrusting out his hand greedily for payment. "Fine then, I will be generous." His hand closed tightly around the silver pennies dropped into the callused palm. " 'Oy! Let the beast go, if the elf wants it, then he can catch it!" With a malicious grin he turned from the elf and sauntered down the muddy street.

It mattered little to Legolas whether the horse was free or chained. "Tol!" he cried. The black's head swung around, his feet planting into the snow mid lunge at the elvish cry. Intelligent eyes stared back at the elf. Legolas sucked in a painful breath at what he saw. Dark, comprehending eyes met his, eyes that told a story and were willing to listen to another's.

Ralamir's eyes.

Legolas felt the curious stares on him, but chose to ignore them as he approached the horse. It ducked its head but stood still, and continued to do so even as Legolas swung himself up onto the creature's broad back. There was a collective gasp from the onlookers when Legolas rode the horse from the square, lacking bit or saddle.

But there was a pair of eyes that did not look on so kindly. Envy and greed burned in the dark depths of the horse trader as he watched the elf ride confidently from the square.

---

Fasse blew a breath of exasperation as the shopkeeper again shook his balding head. "It is just a cloak, not a mithril vest!" The shopkeeper just bobbed his head and turned away to a more patient customer. Fasse grunted and stalked towards out the door to collide with Aragorn. "Gah! Block headed fools think someone would actually buy that coat." It was just then that the man that had been right after him pushed past the two, cloak on arm. Fasse groused. "Any luck for you?"

Aragorn shrugged, "I suppose, I took the supplies back to the inn and loaded them on Gorban while you were in here haggling. Besides your cloak, I think we were successful. Legolas should be…" He trailed off when a great commotion went up a ways down the street at the front of the inn they had stayed at the pervious night. Then he caught a whiff of smoke on the air, and saw a great burst of orange flare from the roof of the inn.

Before he had a chance to react, two sets of hands grabbed his shoulders roughly. "I've got 'im!" one of the men shouted. "This is the one that set the Lonely Traveler on fire!"

TBC…

Quicky AN: Sorry everyone about that last chapter. I really am *sniffle*. Horse-lovers seemed to pop out of hiding with that last part! Don't worry, friends, there will be plenty more horsey bravery coming up. Don't worry Tehalanae, it wasn't your fault, I had this in mind for quite sometime and was struggling over it since the first chapter.

Congratulations to phoenixqueen who nailed it on my trivia question! Yuppers, I was kind of using White Fang for it. Very helpful.

Ha, and I have another question! Can anyone guess the name of the horse I introduced in this part? Lol, I just kind of gave it away…

Thanks all for the reviews!