Shadows on the Snow

by Bill-the-Pony

*Completed* Two months after the events 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.

7. Chaos Together

-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).

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Shadows on the Snow

Part 7

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By the time Fasse had reached the end of the long corridor, he was already regretting having not asked the clerk to lead him to the jailer. He did, however, remember to go through the middle door.

Upon opening the door, Fasse had found himself in a spacious library of sorts. This was secondary since he was nearly nose to nose with a lanky, stick-like man with sagging features and a nose that looked as if it had been punched and abused one to many times.

"Who," the clerk eyed him disdainfully, "are you?" His voice was horribly nasal, probably due to lack of air passing through the flattened nose.

Fasse took a while to collect himself, still not yet recovered from the surprise waiting for him inside the door. "Eh, ah, I am Mr…eh…Mr. Elrond." He nearly slipped and spouted out 'Gorban'.

The clerk moved with stiff-jointed strides to his chair. His knees seemed to hardly bend and he crackled with every movement. He struck Fasse as a very, stiff character. "Do you have a pass, or are you on the lists Mr. Elrond?"

Fasse shook his shaggy head, "No, no I have a, what-do-you-call-it, pass."

An eyebrow arched, stiffly, peaking like the Misty Mountains. The clerk hmm-ed for a count, looking over the hastily scribbled parchment Fasse handed him. "Very well then," the clerk abruptly slammed a heavy stamp on the parchment before shoving it back to Mr. Elrond. Without a last word of either farewell or 'be gone', the clerk burrowed his stubbish nose into a worn leather book. And when Fasse tried to ask for directions, he received a withering glare that would put the real Mr. Elrond on edge.

But now Fasse was faced with the horrible decision as to which door to take, for as the first clerk had said, there were three doors. But as before, the stiff man held up a hand and shushed him. "Oogh," the wizard moaned. After much deliberation and pointless philosophizing, Fasse chose the door to the far left.

Unfortunately, as he found out after at least half an hour of wandering through more studies, getting yelled and emotionally beheaded by many an enraged clerk and official, he had chosen the wrong door. Never had he imagined from looking on from the outside that the interior of the manor was so immense. It seemed he had stepped into a whole other city that boasted of libraries and rooms of knowledge and endless studies, very much as he had heard Gondor described.

And so, Fasse with many wrong turns, worked his way back to the room where he had started his wanderings, a whole hour wasted. The stiff bodied clerk quirked an eyebrow jerkily before swiveling back to his papers. Librarians, Fasse glowered inwardly. Always there when you don't want them, and when you do, they won't have you.

Two doors left; at least he had a fifty-percent chance of choosing the right door. Being the somewhat symmetrically minded wizard that he was, he chose the door opposite of the one he had just come from, the farthest to the right. It was by the smile of Illuvitar that he did. He was presented with another long corridor that opened into a gapping hall, lined all around with a balcony, providing access to multiple unlabeled doors.

The only problem was, there was both a staircase leading up and a staircase leading down from the balcony though Fasse had no way of knowing which one was meant to lead up or lead down. The only sure thing he could really recall was the vague number six and five – but of course he had no clear idea of what they stood for.

It was a surprise, to say the least, to emerge from a relatively unoccupied study to pop out here in a bustling open room. The befuddled wizard was finding it quite hard not to imagine he had stumbled unwittingly – as many of his actions were – into another city by some means of uncontrolled and chaotic magic. Blinking owlishly, he chose the right staircase, reasoning that things that were right ought very well to be on the right. Who would put the right staircase on the left after all?

The next decision Fasse was faced with, were the numbers. He surmised correctly that they must have something to do with the doors and which one he should pick. How did six and five go together? Should he add them and choose the – he counted on his fingers hastily – eleventh door? He could very well just try every door he supposed, but all the time wasted could be the beheading of Legolas and Aragorn. Fasse shuddered at the thought. To be alone…no guide, stuck forever in this Illuvitar forsaken white plained land with a herd of horses threatening to devour him if they did not get their elf back? Or for that matter, their human?

Nay, he was a wizard, not suicidal.

Fasse flexed his palms, flicking his fingers against one another in a nervous habit he had picked up a good…minute ago. He gnawed on a strand of his beard, the gears squeaking in slow revolutions in his head were almost audible to the passer-by. They needed oiling.

Then it came to him. A candle flaring to light above the wizard's head could almost be seen. Why not just try doors five and six? Obvious as it was, it was a break through for the wizard's thought development. And if that didn't work, then, to borrow the colloquialism, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

The fifth door proved to be most certainly the wrong door due to the dead end storage room full to exploding with mothballs. The next door down however looked frightfully more accurate. Frightfully, because there was, again, a clerk. However, he was not half as razor tongued as the last, maybe that was because the harshest words, or sounds, that gurgled from the clerk's throat were full-bellied snores. This clerk definitely had enough belly.

Though Fasse didn't know this at the time, this corpulent man was the very judge-like-clerk that had admitted Nevens to be Legolas and Aragorn's 'prosecutor'. If Fasse had known this, he would have been greatly heartened to know he was drawing nigh to his goal.

But currently he was faced with the dilemma as to how to go about waking the drowsing man, tactfully. There was always poking the clerk, or patting his balding head, shouting or pulling the chair out from under his weighty girth, but none of those sounded very tactful. He would also like to escape in full form without any missing limbs. Then there was the option of simply sneaking past and leaving the man to his dreams.

Fasse had just decided to settle upon this last choice, and had not stepped further than the drowsing man, did a hand snap out, catching him back by the hood of his cloak. The wizard's eye popped wide in surprise.

"And where do you think you are going?" a voice that likened to a bubbling stew pot grumbled from behind him.

Fasse flexed his shoulders, chortling nervously. "Heh, me? Oh, I'm just here to give a present to the Dallered fellow. Mother's request you know."

"Dallered doesn't have a mother."

Fasse's toes curled in his boots, his voice raised a agitated octave, "Deary, deary! Everyone's got a mother!"

The clerk, named Halbred narrowed his beady eyes till they nearly disappeared in his layers of plentiful flesh. "Dallered's mum wouldn't be making any request when she's ten feet under."

The wizard dearly wished for the power of persuasion. "Let's just say that I know that his mother would want me to deliver this too him." Remembering the slip of paper still stuffed in the deep pocket of his cloak, he pushed it across the desk.

Halbred frowned, muttering curses about midget over-lording clerks before he bad naturedly bashed a heavy stamp onto the parchment. He shoved it back to Fasse, a glower firmly twisting his flab. "Now get out, and don't wake me next time."

Again, Fasse was not allowed to ask any questions. With the withering scowl scorching him where he stood, the wizard scooted to the only door he saw. Three more doors could be seen at the end of a long narrow corridor. This passageway was much darker than the others he had passed through. The floor was scuffed and chipped in a few places. His steps echoed dully in the hallway. They sounded almost tired and worn out.

How many times Fasse had been faced with decisions in the past hour, he wasn't sure. But he was sure that it had been too many times. At least this time he actually remembered what he was looking for, if not what door. His instructions had been for the door that would have a stairway leading down from the top. Unfortunately, all of the doors had a stairway. Just his luck.

Using a process of elimination starting at the right, he skittered down one stairway then back up. The first two led to nothing but some storage rooms, there was no Dallered the jail keeper. So using his astute mind, he guess the last door was the right one. Finally, he sighed. It sure had taken him long enough.

But upon, descending the stairway, he found that there was no Dallered here either. The room, though he wouldn't really call it a room but a closet, boasted of only a desk and a chair in their crudest forms. To the left was another long open stairway that curved, obstructing his view. Though he hardly needed vision to tell what was unfolding in the prisons below.

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Legolas feinted with a slight dip of his shoulders, cleanly missing the clumsy swipe of the blunt end of a spear. He could not, however, explain the abrupt fiery agony that seared in his side. Hadn't he dodged that blow? His hand instinctively pressed to his side, dislodging the hilt of the knife that bit into his side. For a horrible moment he lost all concentration and stumbled, nearly causing him further injury. It was Aragorn, pressing firmly against his back that brought him back to the moment. He willed himself to push aside the pain, until Aragorn and himself were well gone from this place.

Unaware of the injury Legolas had taken, Aragorn parried blow after blow with the unrefined and cumbersome weapon forged by the men of Eregion. "Can you break to the stairs yet?" He asked, as loudly as he dared.

"Aye, just tell me when."

Aragorn gauged their tiring opponents. "How about…now." He felt Legolas push off his back, catapulting through the thin human barricade surrounding them. Using the gap Legolas had provided, he backpedaled from the confining ring of men before twisting to high-tail it up the flight of steps.

Legolas lunged up the steps by three, the enraged shouts of Nevens echoing up the long passage behind them. The clatter and banging of the men in hot pursuit followed closely. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he made sure that Aragorn had escaped safely. Seeing the ranger at his heels, he was much relieved, daring to hope that events had taken a turn for the better, despite the pain still throbbing in his side. He had spared the time yet to see the extent or cause of the wound, and he did not spare the precious little time they had now.

Allowing the fading vestiges of adrenaline to goad him on, he sprang nimbly up the last few steps…to run smack into Fasse.

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Fasse squeaked in fright as a russet clad, flaxen haired body bolted into him. He was only mildly appeased at the yelp it gave. Both were sent tumbling. Strider was next to trip over their tangled knot. "Flaming Valaraukar! Don't frighten me so! What do you think you're doing being rescued without me? I was supposed to do that!" Fasse raved, obviously not hearing – or at least no comprehending – the angered shouts echoing up the long staircase.

Strider pulled the wizard to his feet. "Fasse, now is not the time!"

Legolas pulled himself to his feet painfully, his side aching from the impact. Thankfully, no one noticed his distress. That was probably due to the raging faces tearing around the corner of the stairway. "Run!" he cried to the wizard, barely having enough breath.

Fasse squealed, stumbling back as the men converged on them. He raised the closest thing to a weapon he had. The wrapped elongated package he had brought as a bribe for the jailer, cracked open upon the head of the unlucky assailant that just happened to be Dallered, the jailer, spilling crimson liquid over the balding head. Dallered had gotten his wine after all.

Aragorn pushed the stunned wizard back up the last flight of stairs, Legolas close behind. He failed to notice that the elf was lagging. Hauling the wizard back to his feet before he could fall on his face after tripping on his tattered cloak, Aragorn hurtled up the stairs. Only a little farther and they would reach the door to freedom. What lay outside, he was not entirely sure since they had been tightly blindfolded when brought in. All he knew was that they had taken many turns and ascended and descended many steps. Their hope would – regretfully – lie in Fasse's memory of how he got in.

That was not the most comforting, or assuring, thought he had.

TBC…

A/N: No cliffie there that I can see really. Though to y'all you might see something different! Sorry for the wait and the super short chapter, but you know how it goes during the holidays when your brain just kind of freezes…

But wow! 32 review in the space of 6 chapters! That's a big record for me! Compare it to some of the super authors here though and it kind of deflates, but it's still big to me. Thanks you guys!

E – Thanks for the review! Yours came at a wonderful time when you're at that point where you really aren't getting any feedback. It helped me to finish this part up and get it to you. So sorry about the wait!

Guardianofthecards – LOL! Short and sweet!

Larus – Hm…I think it is a conspiracy. A fun conspiracy at that as well! I'm glad you didn't resort to lodging needles in my hide or anything.

Legilmalith - Rambling is good in a review! Really lets me know that they were paying attention *eye roll*. Just kidding *wink*. I can't say I really say anything more of worth for your story, no matter how much I enjoy it. You can't really say I'm an accomplished reviewer though I've done it who knows how many times.

Phoenix Ice – Ewwww, mushy…So glad, I would hate for it to come out gooshy and such. *Throws Phoenix a big wooly coat* Stay warm and don't freeze so you can keep sending such wonderful feedback! Thanks so much for the compliments.

Layfield – Great to have you! Our ranger can be a bit 'childish' at times can't he? I mean the guy can't be all seriousness if he grew up with the twins, now could he? Well you know me, I'm a sucker for action!

Gwyn – *Cowers* Don't beat me! And you thought that last wait was long! I'm so relieved that at least someone didn't threaten me because of the cliffie. Though I'm not sure how you will react with my…em…treatment of Legolas. Give me a break! At least I don't poison him or do some other cruel treatment in EVERY chapter.

Jocelyn - *Gaps at the screen* EEEE! This is like having Tolkien send me feedback on my story, or George Bush or something! Lol, I know, I know, you're supposed to be all cool and calm when a 'celebrity' reviews your stuff….;) That part, with Legolas and Aragorn conversing about being cold in the last chapter was one of my favorite parts to write in the whole thing so far. It was just one of those parts that's just such a blast. *Waggles a finger* Now that I've put this up, get that next part of 'A Little Nudge Out the Door' out!!!

Thanks again all! I'll shut up now…