-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!
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Shadows on the Snow
Part 10
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It was by Aragorn's reckoning four hours till midnight when the travelers finally found safe harbor in the ruins of Tharbad. The once flooded city cowered, broken and deserted at the meeting of the Glanduin and the Mitheithel where the Old South Road crossed. Though throughout the day the weather had held to an even dusting of continuous snow, it was night when the real winter broke its chains and let loose with a vengeance.
Aragorn laid his back against the cold stone, his feet warming beside the fire. The three nestled in the shelter of one of the last remnants of a stone building. The roof had since been washed away or simply deteriorated, but the walls provided ample shelter from the driving, white fury. Fasse's heavy breathing in his slumber, the crackle of the fire and the occasional shift of the horses' hooves were all that was to be heard besides the lonesome howling of the wind.
He was in a dreary mood, brought on by the many bad turns of events that they had been plagued with since leaving Rivendell. These things were never meant to happen. Legolas wasn't meant to get hurt protecting him. Ralamir wasn't meant to die protecting him.
And Elrond said that I would be a leader, a king, the savior of a failing people, he mocked himself. I could not even protect my own dear horse, and he would have me protect thousands of people. He wasn't meant to be a leader. Whatever his path was, it couldn't lie on the way that Elrond foretold of.
"My father always chastised me that doubt springs from self-pity." The elf spoke softly beside him, seeing the thoughts of his friends mind that only and Eldar could. "You carry the fate of your people, Aragorn, and for that you pity yourself."
Aragorn was taken aback at Legolas's softly spoken, but scathingly piercing words. Naturally, walls barricaded his heart and mind, defending himself from unpleasant words. The ranger drew back physically, something within him snapping in defense. "Pity? I do not pity myself. It is for the people of Gondor that I pity! Do not make me out to be, to be as…"
Legolas remained seated, his back to the stone, his expression placid. Blue eyes reflected the dancing firelight, revealing within them wisdom harvested by long years of mistakes and failures. "To be Isildur? Is that who you shun and fear to mirror? How long will you run from phantom ghosts that cannot, and will not, claim you? Oh, Aragorn Arathornion, in all the long years I have known you, through all the battles we have fought, do you still not understand that evil will not diminish until what is good and pure has faced it?"
Aragorn stumbled back, pressing a hand to the stone wall, balancing himself, averting his face from the eyes boring into him, eyes that belayed the elf's youthful features. Beneath tightly shuttered eyes, the heir of Isildur wept. "But I will fail."
Amidst the wailing moans of the blizzard, silent tears never fell to burn the snow. Pearls of grief, long held hidden, fell upon the shoulder of Legolas Greenleaf.
---
Three days had passed since that night. They traveled down the Old South Road, making the best time they could in the foul weather. The horses labored bravely on, reluctantly having to be led by their riders through deep drifts. The air was frigid, and it was taking its toll upon all of them, including the elf.
Legolas, having been alive for over at least close to two thousand years, had very few new experiences. And it was perhaps the first time in a long time – to a mortal's standards - that an elf had experienced this feeling.
It was bitterly horrible, his joints moved with agonizingly sluggish movements. It was as if he was being devoured from the inside out by some unseen and unconquerable force that sought to take control of his body. It made every old wound he thought perfectly healed, not to mention the still tender slash in his side, ache as if it had been reopened brutally.
He was cold.
No, he corrected himself, he was freezing.
It was only by the white vale of snow that Aragorn did not see the growing quake of his limbs. And it was only by Aragorn's description of this new feeling that Legolas could identify what he was suffering from.
But it was also by Legolas's explanation and reassurance in the prison of the Hollin town that Aragorn did not spare a glance at his friend.
Time passed sluggishly in a colorless void. All the white of Middle-earth would surely run out in time, and some other color would take its place. Fasse shivered, his shoulders quivering like a mouse in a gale. He hugged what cloak could be spared around him and over his head, his shaggy eyebrows frosted over with snow and his beard sported miniature icicles. In all truth he could say that this time was indeed the most miserable-est he had ever been in his long, stiff years. But through the frozen, sluggish movements of his brain, he, in fact, was the one that noticed the change in their elven companion. It was understandable since Aragorn directed all his energies on guiding them along the snow-covered road, careful not to stray from the unseen path. Fasse on the other hand, had nothing to do besides shiver and put one foot in front of the other – which was quite enough to do in his mind.
"Ara…arago…rn…" the wizard chattered, but his words were stolen away by a gust of zealous wind. Fasse shifted his small eyes – yes, they were cold too – back to the elf. The toiling elven prince, clad as always in his light clothing, pushing through the ever growing drifts of snow, alternately guiding Nienna, Falmarin and Gorban. But something was wrong, and even in his somewhat clogged brain, Fasse could tell this. Elves didn't shiver, neither were they supposed to clutch their sides or rub their arms for warmth or give any sign of weakness. Elves just were not supposed to do things, mortal things, like that.
Fasse tried to put the worry out of his mind. Surely Aragorn would notice if things were amiss with the elf. The two seemed to share a subconscious knowledge of what the other was doing, or how he faired, he had seen it before. His eyes must be deceiving him.
He knew that he had made a terrible error in not trying harder to draw the ranger's attention when a good ten minutes later he looked back to where the elf had been, to see that now there was only Gorban and Nienna.
---
Falmarin screamed in desperation, his cries hardly leaving his throat before they were swept away, never to reach even his own sharp ears. Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong! His master…he knew naught what to do. The grey horse lowered a frosty muzzle to touch the frozen cheek of his elf, trying to warm the clammy skin with his breath. He nudged again and again, his action growing rougher with his nervousness. But his elf didn't move, remaining cold and lifeless in the equally freezing snows.
The others had gone ahead. They had not heard his whickering when his elf had collapsed. They had left. Should he leave, try to find the others, or should he remain by his elf's side? What if he lost his master to the snows? Why wouldn't his master rise and guide him? He understood now how Ralamir had felt when he had taken Aragorn back to the wizard's lair, alone. They were horses, not meant to lead, but to obey and to guide from behind, not before!
Falmarin raised his head, whinnying with all his might. The horse pawed around his elf in frustration, careful not to hit him. Already his master was sinking into the white depths. The white was seeking to claim his elf! He would not allow it, he could not allow it!
Falmarin's knees dipped to the ground first, the rest of his body following, lying himself as close as he dared to his master. With his soft muzzle, he rolled the elf close to his warm body. His elf was cold, his elf was never cold. Why would his elf not open his eyes?
The loyal horse curled his body as best he could around his elf, twitching his full tail to cover all he could. Through the haze of white, the horse could hardly be seen, his grey coat melding in with his light, empty surroundings. Who knew how long Falmarin lay there, nickering softly into his elf's ear, breathing warm breath over pale frozen limbs, begging the his master to come back. His pleas went unanswered and unheeded.
---
"Aragorn! Stop! Oh by Melkor's nose, stop!"
Aragorn whirled, Fasse's frantic cries finally reaching his ears. Roheryn let forth a deep bugle that could only barely be heard, the black's eyes noticing something before the ranger did.
"Legolas…" wheezed Fasse. "He's…not there…anymore!"
Strider needed only for Fasse to breathe the first hints of Legolas's name for him to realize that the elf no longer toiled beside them. "How long ago did you last see him?" The ranger shouted, trying to be heard over the sudden violent surge of wind.
"Not but a few moments ago," Fasse forced from between chattering teeth. "He can't be far back. We have to go back!"
It was getting harder and harder to see by the minute. The land was a white waste, devouring every living thing it could. His friend was out there, somewhere in that void, if Fasse thought that he would leave Legolas to the wild, then the wizard had still the basics to learn about him. "Come with me Fasse, to split up would be our folly. Stay close and do not stray."
It was a cold work, thrusting back through the snow. The path that they had just formed was already disappearing as new snow fell to cover the disturbance, making any rational tracking nearly impossible. The light footfalls of an elf would be covered within the span of a breath. Even Falmarin's deeper prints were non-existent.
Step after heavy step they forced each other on, desperate to find their elvish companion. They hoped with all they had that Legolas had gotten lost in a blast of white air and lost sight of them. This was because with sinking hearts they knew with awful certainty they would have found him by now if he had fallen where he stood. Now they were lost in the swirling tumult.
If they had been traveling in the trees as they had been in days past, it would not have been so difficult to find the road, but traveling in open plain-land with the land covered in a blanket of snow as it was. There was no telling the South Road from the next hillock. They could hardly see their own hand in front of their faces.
Beside him he faintly heard Fasse's chattering teeth. The wizard's pale face blended with the white of the snow. The horses stood beside them, sheltering them best they could with their bodies. Yet their heads dipped, and with the light touch of a hand, fingers could count easily the number of ribs. His own head swam from the fatigue of hard travel. It seemed that they were without hope.
It was at this time, when all seemed bleakest, that Aragorn made a solemn resolution. This time, he would not fail. It was not an option, and if there was no option, his only choice was to succeed. He would do everything in his power to make his father, and Legolas, proud of his actions, no matter how heart wrenching they were. Even when he heard the howl of a wolf, he did not waver from his conviction.
"We must find shelter." Aragorn folded Nienna, Gorban and Roheryn's leads in his hands. Fasse looked surprised when the ranger tied a length of rope about the wizard's waste. "There is too much risk of losing each other," the ranger explained shortly.
Fasse blinked, his shaggy lips quivering from both cold and confusion. A strand of frozen beard almost magically found its way into his mouth, his teeth nervously chewing on it. "But Aragorn, that would mean going on! Leaving Legolas behind!"
Aragorn barricaded his heart against Fasse's words. It would take so little to change his mind, so little. But he could not sway from his decision. "I know what my actions are, Fasse. But I have no choice! I can do nothing in this weather but make things worse. The horses are near collapsing, and so are you! We can do Legolas no good if we are dead."
"But you cannot leave him! He might die while we seek refuge!" Fasse shouted over a blast of bitter wind and snow.
Aragorn grabbed the distraught wizard's shoulders. "He will not, Fasse. He will not!" he cried, clinging to hope and the faith that he still bore. "Legolas is stronger than you know and he will not let the weather claim him." Through the swirling snow, Aragorn saw the tear freeze on Fasse's cheek. "I will not abandon him and I will not leave him behind." His grasp tightened around the diminutive wizard's shoulders. "You must trust me."
Hoping upon hope that they might stumble upon their elven friend, the floundered through the wrathful snow, with no clear idea of which direction they were going. They prayed with all their hearts that they were even going in the right direction. There was no sure assurance that they were not going back to the ruins of Tharbad. Their only one true assurance that they could lay their trust in. It was that whatever happened, would be what was meant to happen. Aragorn hoped that when all was done, he could still believe that.
---
Falmarin's ears pricked forward, nostrils quivering. He remained upon his side, reluctant to remove the scant warmth he protected his elf with, but all senses alert. He knew that cry. It was neither human, dwarf, elf or orc, but beast. What breed of beast, he was not entirely sure, but it was either wolf, or a fell warg. Either one was not welcome.
Again, the normally chilling howl drifted like a sad song carried reluctantly by a blast of wind that caught the snow, tossing it with malice into the face of the lone horse. There was a word in that cry, a word that was universal in all tongues of earth. Lost…alone…
The grey horse whickered softly, brushing his nose against his still elf's cheek. Oh, why would he not wake? Why had not the mortal man seen his friend's fall? Then, again, drifting and swirling with the snows, the lonesome lament of the wolf sounded in the growing darkness, closer now than before. The grey light of day was fading, already, pitching the vulnerable pair from blinding white, into the darkest night either had ever seen. Unfortunately, only one of the two was aware to see it.
TBC…
A/N: I'm not even going to say anything about cliffhangers anymore since you guys always find something to whine about! Lol, joking…joking. Guess I'll take this opportunity to send a big thank you out to you readers! As well as all you lurkers!
Gwyn - Well, was this the chapter you've been waiting for. Plenty of angst to go around. ;)
Camlost - Thanks for the very nice review. I hope you got my email replying to your question/mention/reminder. Good point! I shall have to be more careful of that in the future. I just get so edgy to get on with the story I forget all about that I…well…kind of stabbed him.
YunaDax – Thanks! It seems like more and more people are coming out as horse admirers/lovers. I just didn't think that there was enough horse stories out there while wrapping in our heroes
Silent Angel – Was this too long of a wait for you? I hope I got this out soon enough. Unfortunately, I really didn't think it was that great. Thanks for your comments!
ThE iNsAnE oNe – I do dearly love my Fasse. He's so huggible! I need to make a plushie thingy…
And thanks to JastaElf (what a supreme bummer that ff.net took your story off, just doesn't seem right!!), Eowyn Greenleaf, E, and all you others who have reviewed over the past chapters. You can't (and many of you can) believe how much it helps. Happy New Year in case I don't get around to updating before then.