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.

13. Nameless Shadows

-Shadows on the Snow-

By: Bill the Pony

Rating: PG-13

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: Me stupid, I forgot that Aragorn spent thirteen years off and on searching for Gollum. I have to bump this story back then to placing it about thirteen years before the start of WR. I think it still works after looking back over "Rising Storm". Acceptably at least. I'm planning on going back over it and revising at least for my own personal copy, so if anyone can tell me my errors, please do! Not to give the end away, but I placed it here because of the way that I've plotted it out. I know this whole thing is very AU, even though I honestly haven't tried to make it that way.

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Shadows on the Snow

Part 13

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The new day shone with promise that brightened Aragorn's heart. He had ventured out of the dark protection of the cave to the open air, finding that the snow had much abated even though heavy clouds laced the sky; but the weather seemed to be less daunting. The land was a softer white now that the driving winds had died to a mere whisper. The silence was broken only by the warble of a bird that somewhere in the woodland ventured out to greet the day. Drifts of snow were piled against the trunks of ancient trees, rolling through the forest like the waves of Belegaer, the Great Sea.

Never could his mind grasp completely how the wrath and fury of the snow could be subdued so quickly and be turned to such an innocent element, draping tree and earth with garments of white. It only showed him all the more the predestination of the Song for all it involved. There had been a reason for all that had happened, so indeed there was nothing ill when the Creator of the World that Is foreknew what was to happen, and that was truly a comforting thought.

"It seems that we have not been left to the devices of the wild." Legolas came to stand beside him, staring without trepidation at the snows that had nearly claimed his immortal existence.

Aragorn frowned at his recovering companion, a familiar look of worry laced with frustration. "You should not be out here so soon, Legolas. You needn't push your luck."

A wry smile turned the corners of the Elf's lips. "I would hardly call it 'luck' Aragorn. Do you still have to learn that luck or abstract fortune has anything to do with anything?"

"Old habits die hard, they say. A slip of the tongue, I assure you. Should I inform you that you're changing the subject, friend?"

Legolas didn't seem to hear him, his smile widening in willful ignorance, quite content to stay on this current subject. In fact he wished it. There were things that had been left unsaid that needed to be shared. "Truly, we were foolish to ever doubt. Even if the outcome had not been what it was."

Aragorn nodded, peering carefully at Legolas's face. Something weighed upon the Elf; a distant look still haunted his sharp Elven eyes. It was an ailment that did not afflict his flesh, but his soul. He waited, ready to listen lest Legolas need an ear to confide in. The Elf had done as much for him many times over the years they had known each other. It was the least he could do in return.

"I know not what it is, Aragorn," Legolas began slowly, reluctant to weigh Aragorn down with his own thoughts, "but when I woke this morning, I felt as if something wonderful had happened, but I could not remember what it was!" The Elf blew a sigh of consternation, it was the most aggravating feeling he had felt in a long while. Forgetfulness was not a coil oft a part of the Elvish mind. "It aches," he tapped his chest, "in here. As if I am longing for something, though I know not what I have lost," he said softly.

He caught Aragorn's concerned look and smiled. "Do not frown Aragorn, I am as well as can be expected. Even though I ache to know what it is that has left me – perhaps only faded from my perception – there is a warmth that yet burns within me greater than any fire that could warm my skin. Ai! it was if I have heard some strain of music too sweet to bear!"

Aragorn cried out suddenly, as if remembering something he himself had forgotten. "Yes, the Song, Legolas! I heard it, I have heard the melody that your ears are ever graced with!" His voice faltered at the remembrance of the sweet sound. "How is it that your mind can think of any other when such beauty forever serenades your souls? I am sure that I only heard the faintest wisp of notes, but oh! How sweet it was!"

Legolas face lit with amazement, taking joy in his friend's elation. "This is a wonder indeed! You have heard the Song? Rare is the day when man is graced to hear the Great Music! It truly is a wonder that your mind is still in its right state after such an experience." Never in Legolas's many years had he heard of such a happening, it was also a matter of much fear on his part to think of his mortal friend hearing such a glorious tune. Even the elves being the first of Ilúvitar's children, would find it unbearable to leave such unearthly beauty and return to the mute life of flesh in the lands of Arda. That is, if they were indeed allowed to remembered such an experience…

Aragorn laughed, his face lit with unsurpassed joy as the sweet memory – though supernaturally dimmed. Legolas laughed with him and it was some time before finally they could do naught else but laugh. True joy is not easily dimmed by time.

Soon the three with their equine companions were setting their feet to their task once more. It felt strangely good, even to Fasse who was hardly the type for exercise. With the happily received help of the striving Sun, Aragorn found the South Road in good time and lacking any unwelcome hindrances. It was bitter sweet to step upon the old, snow-covered path again, their fellowship whole, a company of three and four. Fasse, and even Aragorn, had doubted the probability of that ever happening again. But here they were, an Elf, a Man, and a delinquent Istar with a faithful following of beasts of burden.

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Two nights had come and gone, much as they had all over the face of Arda. Two blessed nights in which Legolas was glad not to be reacquainted with the mortal sensation of cold. But it was a different cold that traced chilling fingers down his spine as they set their feet to their road as the sun rose, still hindered, on this the third day out from the cave. They had at last entered the Gap of Rohan.

His steps faltered, his eyes narrowed. It was much the same chill as he had felt a few days prior when first they had joined with the Old South Road on a course that would lead them past the doorstep of…

"Isengard," he muttered beneath his breath. So foul it seemed, yet so beautiful did he recall the descriptions of it. A valley of plenty, lush and full of life could he recall travelers' words of it, but something within him seemed to rebel against the fair description.

"What troubles you?" Aragorn queried, noticing the shudder that had coursed subtly through Legolas's shoulders. "Surely your wounds do not yet pain you."

Legolas shook his head. "Nay, it is nothing physical; it is just…" there was a pregnant pause, he was not sure how to continue without saying too much and yet saying too little. "I have questions, concerns, that I have not yet sorted out."

"Would you care to share them?"

Again, Legolas shook his head negatively. "They are but confused threads that I have yet to untangle. I do not think that I could even express them clearly without confusing myself further."

Aragorn nodded understandingly. He knew too well the feeling. "I can understand perfectly." His hand found the Elf's shoulder, "But when you have adequately sorted your concerns, you will have my ear if it is needed."

Legolas nodded his thanks wordlessly, watching, but not quite seeing, Aragorn's short trek to the front of the line. Something ill was spreading over these lands. Something putridly foul was afoot.

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Walls of polished ebony caught the flicker of candlelight. It was not a wholesome light that brought an excuse for light to the deep recesses of the chamber, but as if every hue of orange and white had been removed and replaced with an unnamable black light. However, one could easily describe it as unpleasant and entirely not the sort of place he or she would like to spend any length of time over a cup of tea. This was the place - the tower of Isengard wrought of four pillars of unbreakable black stone - Saruman the White called his abode, a place where shadows lingered and were welcomed and light was but a necessary evil.

Hair the color of his title fell in a rain of silk below his broad shoulders. He was clad in a robe of the same shade, the raiment woven and embroidered by skillful hands. The Istar stood out starkly with his dark surroundings, a strange, strong ghost that did not seem to belong here. Indeed the only physical feature that was not of the purer color were his eyes. Dark they were, a veil seemed be cast over them hiding the intent of his soul from view.

But in many ways his title forsook him, quite contrary to the unspoken and unknown part of him. To all peering eyes, he was indeed Saruman the Wise. Yet there was a lesser-known part of him, a face beneath the mask that was not so wholesome. It was this visage that stared with disdainful malice at the wretched form of life cowering at his feet who tried its best to save its life through explanation. "We did not know they drew so close, my Lord. It was as if they were hid from our eyes!"

…As if they were hid from our eyes. The wizard turned inward, mulling over the disturbing thought. Nothing was to be hidden from him, his alliances were too strong and his benefits from those bonds meant that eventually all Arda would be in his mind's eye. How could a man, and Elf, and a pathetic life form who called himself one of the Order of the Istari, be so near to his domain without his notice? It was indeed disturbing.

It was also highly frustrating; he knew that these very three were the trio that had nearly brought upon him his ruin. Word had come to him that the dullard, Fasse, was traveling to these parts to seek refuge with either Gondor or Rohan. The fool had always been indecisive. "Do not let them draw any nearer; they tread in places they should not venture."

To the Orc who yet quaked at his Master's bidding, his canceled execution was an unexpected surprise. To an Orc, death was a matter of their short lives so the execution was merely postponed. But the wizard did not even utter a rebuke. Who was he but a wretched pawn to argue with the well being of his provider? "Your word is done, Lord."

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The weather turned indecisive as morning drew on to noon. Clouds darkened and swelled till it seemed they were fit to burst and leash their fury on the travelers, but then a gust of wind would prance from the unseen to hurry the unruly clouds away. The air was heavy with secrets, here it was not only felt by Legolas, but by his two companions.

"I have traveled this path before but it did not feel so, hateful, at that time," Aragorn mused beneath his breath. He laid a calming hand on Roheryn's broad neck. For the sake of time, they had taken to their horses' backs again as it seemed that in these parts, the winter had not yet bitten so hard. Legolas rode near Fasse's right shoulder keeping an eye on the wizard's mare. However stubborn Nienna was, there a came a limit to which a horse would withstand and Fasse was hardly the skilled rider.

With exaggerated caution the travelers passed into the shadow of Dol Baran, the last foothill of the southern region of the Misty Mountains. But no caution could have prevented what happened next.

"Yrch!" Legolas barely had enough time of forethought to cry the warning before the creatures of darkness spilled from their concealed positions in the shadows.

Aragorn's sword sung as it was freed from its sheath, his eyes taking in the scope of the odds and their own defense as a warrior's habit. Eyes of every shade of yellow glinted with blood lust. They had been ambushed. The ring of two scores of Orcs was too tight for easy escape. In fact, their odds were quite bleak. The three horses and Gorban turned outwards, each defending the other's back.

Hardly had they drawn their own weapons were the Orcs upon them, wasting no time for the travelers to recover and form any strong defense. Fasse gripped his sturdy staff in two hands, striking hard blows on the skulls of any Orc that drew too near. Only by some odd chance did he avoid hitting Nienna's head in his mad fight. He was highly unaccustomed to fighting in any manner from horseback. Beside the flailing Fasse, Gorban was holding his own against the rushing tide of creatures. Sharp hooves struck crushing blows while sending many of the beasts flying, quite literally.

Many an Orc fell to the elvish arrows of the bow of Mirkwood. Falmarin needed no hand to guide him against the creatures, leaving Legolas free to use knife and bow. But each Orc that stumbled back in the last thralls of its miserable life was immediately replaced by another. There were too many. Aragorn's experienced eye could see this quite clearly. His sword hissed to bury itself in the neck of yet another Orc, ripping it free to wheel Roheryn to fight off a hoard that had nearly overcome Gorban. One unit at a time, the Orcs were forcing themselves between the companions, separating, surrounding and cutting them off from each other. It would be their demise if the Orcs succeeded.

"Legolas, stay close to Fasse!" he cried over the tumult of the screams and wails of the Orcs. In his brief distraction, one of the vile creatures had ducked beneath his and Roheryn's defense. The Orc's knife hissed angrily on a path that would bury itself deep in the Ranger's unprotected side. It would have completed its journey if Roheryn hadn't twisted, swinging his hip to knock the Orc of balance deflecting the knife to score only a shallow laceration across Aragorn's thigh. He felt his rider tense at the unexpected pain, but it was considerably less discomfort had the horse not taken action. Roheryn's hooves brought a swift death to the creature. But it was only one in a seemingly growing sea of enemy masses.

Time seemed to flee from their minds leaving them to fall mindlessly into the fight for life with each sweep of their arms. The distance between each other grew, the Orcs pressing in about them, their stench and cries of hate filling the air. Then over the havoc, all ears heard the thunderous pounding of the hoof as a storm rolling over the plains.

The Riders of Rohan had come to call.

Their attack was swift; their coming unseen until it was too late for the hapless creatures of the dark. Javelins were launched, arrows imbedded themselves in many a neck and the swords sung. Horses unhindered by the snow crushed any that stood in their way. Before long, the Road was littered with the bodies of the servants of all that was evil. There were none left to draw breath. Suddenly calm returned to the vale.

Aragorn gave a cursory take of the plain before cleaning his blade replacing it to its place of peace. Legolas had already set his hand to helping the wounded of the Rohirrim. But they themselves were strangers and could not go without suspicion.

"Who is it that found such disaster while only paces within our border?" a voice said, deep and with the tone of one accustomed to leading his men with precise orders. It was wary, but not cold, aggressive, but not hostile.

"To some I am known as Strider, but in this region and to the region of Gondor I am known more commonly as Thorongil. The Elf is my friend and fellow traveler, Legolas, a son of Thranduil of the Woodland Realm. And the one upon the mare is Fasse, one of the White Council." Aragorn introduce his companions formally, using one of his many titles.

A dark light was cast over the young man's fair features. His eyes bore into Fasse's back with something akin to hate. "One of the Istari? His name is unknown to me." The horseman's face suddenly lit with recognition, seeming to put whatever differences he had with the order of the Wizards behind him. "Thorongil, of Gondor, you say? Then this is an honor to be sure! Tales of your deeds at Umbar have reached us from Gondor. But forgive my surprise, we meet many on these plains some quite unsavory and one can never be too careful. A man of your type is lesser seen though." A curious smile touched the young man's lips. "I am Éomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark in charge of the Eastmark. But certain events drove me to these parts. It seems that that was a blessing."

Aragorn nodded his agreement and thanks. "I share your sentiment. Without your intervention, my companions and I would have been lost. Already we have lost many of our supplies and we come to your land in sore need of aid."

"To you, Thorongil, it shall be given."

Aragorn opened his mouth to express once more his thanks, but Legolas appeared at his shoulder, beating him to vocalization. "Then I would I ask first an explanation to why so many Orcs roam within the edges of your lands? What fell sense lures them here and gives them shelter? They looked to be no mere band of Mountain Orcs to my eye." Legolas's tone was sharp to the carelessly observing ear, but Aragorn knew better the unease that crept into the Elf's voice. Aragorn laid a hand on Legolas's arm, but the Elf did not back down on his interrogation. The archer obviously sensed things that he did not, but he doubted that even Legolas did not know what troubled him as he had spoken and confirmed earlier.

Éomer's brow knotted, a look of righteous anger settling in his eyes. Discerning eyes sized up the Elf. "Do you question my Riders' ability to keep our lands safe? Do you not think we do not fight these beasts day and night with every breath that is in our bodies?"

Legolas at this point did ease his unnerving gaze, his posture relaxing allowing his tension to ooze from him. He tipped his head, "Forgive me, Horse Lord, that was not the aim of my words. I had hoped however you could give me insight into the happenings of this vale." His voice lowered, his eyes cast themselves upon the distant vision of the pronged tines of the tower of Isengard that could just be seen spiking over Dol Baran. "I would have truth spoken between us and for my part I would confess that there is a foul premonition on the air that sends shivers down my spine."

"Though I have no Elven blood in my veins, I know the feeling you speak of well." Éomer's voice dropped. "Something foul broods in the stone walls of Isengard. I have seen shadows of it spreading over these parts."

Aragorn opened his mouth to speak but for the second time another beat him to speech, though this time it was not Legolas.

"You must be mistaken, my good Horse Lord. These 'shadows' that you speak of must come from another source. My home remains much the same as it has for these past years. But let us not start our meeting with ill words."

From a few paces off, Aragorn heard Fasse gasp in surprise. He turned as one body with Legolas and Éomer to face the deep voice that spoke apologetically from behind them. He was clad in white with a neat beard of spun silver and in his hand he grasped in a strong hand a staff. They had no need to overhear Fasse's softly whispered word to identify the newcomer, "Saruman."

Author's Notes:

Took me long enough folks! But I'm not dead and neither am I comatose.

Now I know there will questions arising from some of you book-verse hogs (alas I am one of you but it may not seem like it from this chapter) such as "How the heck did Saruman get all the way from Isengard to the Old South Road so darn fast?" Forgive me on that one point if you will and just accept that imagination must be used on this blasted story. So all these other inconsistencies with Éomer and everything else are not intentional, and well, they are also intentional. That makes no sense whatsoever. I hate myself for them, but unfortunately I have been in a horribly uncreative mode.

I hope you will also bear with me and allow me to thank some of you for your kind and helpful feedback. I only do this occasionally so I hope you don't mind. So without further ado…

Gwyn – I do tend to think of Elves as both innocent and jaded at the same time. They've seen so much life, and yet they personally know so little of what it feels like in a mortal body. I guess that's why there are so many stories where the Elves either suffer a mortal wound or simply become mortal by some means. It's an interesting idea…Thanks for being such a faithful reviewer!
Jenny – Horses, horses! What would I do without equine characters? Thanks for the review.

The Insane One – Forgive me for not going through the labor of putting in both capital and lowercase into your name. I don't have that much control over my fingers. Oh, you have a sick mind! *Laughs* You're another one of those torture lovers. Well as long as you continue to review then I won't sick my own Bob the Balrog on you. *Grins* Thank you for the feedback.
E – Think Aslan. That's about all I can say. As you may notice I left unsaid whether He was Ilúvitar or Manwe. It's all up to you. *Grins* Joy! I'm up to 91 as I'm writing this. Who knows, maybe I'll break my own pitiful record and go to 100. It was too kind of you to poke me and remind me with a second request for the next chapter. I'm glad you like it so much!
Sabercrazy – Good idea, I should work that in during some of the closing dialog in the last chapter. Thanks for the kind review.
Fantasia – ROFL! Good question! I honestly had only the vaguest of an idea when your comment came in. And a good one it was. It jabbed me to go and actually make an outline for the finishing chapters. Where the ideas for these last parts from is thanks to you really. I need a solid mind like yours to remind me of important things like a plot.
Kayleigh-talitha – Ai! I know what you mean about the Mary-Sue dilemma. I hardly go to the main hub here anymore for sake of keeping my hair. In the process I tend to loose a lot of stories that would be good reads. What I tend to do is just bookmark the profiles that I like and just go there. It's too kind of you to compare me to Cassia and Sio. I'm sure they would be appalled at the thought of me, Bill, equaling them. Thanks for the feedback and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
JastaElf – Theological? Me? Bill? HA! Well it was an honoring sentiment. John Frame is theological, and even though the dear friend has reviewed some of my stories, I wouldn't say that I'm theological in the least. It was an idea that bloomed from CS Lewis. I hate to disappoint you, but I don't see much more Legolas Angst coming up. Maybe I shouldn't say that since now you won't come back to see if I beat him up anymore. You may notice, but I do honestly try to cut back on my character torture. *Laughs* I hope that doesn't turn you away! I'm so glad you can connect with Falmarin. He's a dear character that I love. Any compliment from the author many marvelously written story including "The Scruff Factor" is swooned over. Thank you so much!
Maggie – Ai! A review from Maggie! *Falls over* I can't deal with celebrities, I'm such a failure. Horses play such an important role in M-e, though many times unspoken. How else would our heroes, from Beleg to Arathorn, get anywhere without there trusted steed? It brings great relief to my heart that a trusted author like you approves of both the story, and the horses. As for the dream, it was horribly hard to write. I was afraid I would make it to tacky and my palms were sweating at the idea of writing such an ethereal scene. It brings great joy to my heart that you even took the time to send me such encouraging feedback. I can't thank you enough!
Thundera Tiger - *Swoon* Does my heart stop? Do my eyes fool me? Is it truly "THE" Thundera Tiger that sends me such glowing feedback? With three amazing authors having sent me feedback, my writing career for as little as it has been is satisfied and I can die happy. You brought such relief to me with your compliments. As for Manwe vs. Eru…well as I've said earlier, it's all up to you! That way I don't' have to decide *Snicker*. It's a lame answer, but I hope it isn't too horrible. I was struggling over that decision and decided not to agonize over it. But honestly, I can't gush enough over your glowing compliments, true or not. You can't believe how high I squealed and how long I chattered to dear Mum over the finding of this gem. I acted like the 15-year-old I am when it came in. I hope this chapter was too your liking.

Whew, I think that's it now, I really enjoy replying to your amazingly kind feedback all too much and I must restrain myself from writing a page to each of you no matter how short the comment is. Thank you all so very much!

Bill