Sarah once more! Oh, and this one's a little short… *nervous laugh* We're gearing up for something more exciting, really we are! :D
Staran: Thanx!! So glad you liked those bits; we were rather partial to them. ;D
saber crazy: We're glad you like our posting schedule! That's actually part of the reason why we decided never to post WIPs (that and fear of writer's block). ;) 'Forever Haunted'; hm, that would make a great fic title, don't you know! You should write it. You already have all the stuff to stick in it: psychos, arrows, torture, and cliffs. *matching sadistic grin* And yes, they will always have ample sources of teasing material. ;D
Elwen: I'm sure he'll remember to make eye-contact eventually, but until then: it's so much fun getting him in trouble! :D And speaking of trouble: nope, being identified as 'Legolas, son of Thranduil, elven prince of Mirkwood' would not be good right now. ;D
Elemmire: Really? Thanks!! And here we were worried it might be too slow… :D
Gwyn: Yup, trouble can be squished temporarily, but it always pops up again unless it's dealt with. *sigh* Glad you aren't going to protest! ;) And the headband: no, actually, we finished this fic before Cassia and Sio started posting theirs, so any similarities are purely coincidental. Not that coincidences don't happen on a regular basis! ;D
phoenix queen: Whoops! I think that's actually the first time we've spelled it wrong, if for no other reason than we have one of those automatic-spell-fixer thingies -- only it doesn't work on all-capital words like that last one… :P *hands phoenix an ice pack for her jaw* Thanks! And, er, sorry about that… :} Oooh, yes we love quotes!! Yup, he only drugged him once (smart boy), and Legolas was not happy (stupid elf). We don't have it in for Duurben really, but he just keeps showing up in the wrong place at the wrong time… *shakes head* Thank you also on Thorongil's names and luck (two subjects which I guess we just couldn't help bringing up again)!! An extra big hug for posting on this, in spite of your busyness! :D
Anarril: Nope, no owies; don't worry, they're coming! …Slowly. :} Indeed: poor Duurben! He had no idea when he hooked up with Thorongil that there was an elf hidden in the package… ;D And nope, we didn't purposefully take the headband idea from Cassia (we actually finished this fic before she started posting SoH), but I do believe it's fairly common amongst fanfic writers in general. After all: you have to hide the guy's ears! Straw hats would look stupid, cowboy hats don't fit in Middle Earth, helmets are generally cumbersome, and the weather is almost never right for earmuffs… headbands are the natural solution to all those problems! ;D
None: Peaceful indeed! For now… :D
Mercredi: Thank you so much! Yeah, Legolas is pretty quick in the thought department, and yes, Duurben is beginning to lean towards 'rabid' in the curiosity department. ;D I'm glad you liked our interaction; it's tricky hitting the balance without (a) damaging one of the characters, or (b) copying what someone else (particularly Cassia/Sio) has already done. ;P I think Thorongil understands both the need and the importance of taking charge -- he's just fine with being the leader of the Dúnedain -- but he is frustrated because *this* time he only wanted to be a soldier. It is through bad luck (?) alone that he wound up a captain in spite of himself! ;) And thanx a bunch on our ending! You're so sweet. *grin*
Mouse: *bows* Hanta le! :D
Lina: Ho boy! Maybe they react that way because you really ARE scary sometimes… Poor Duurben! ;) *watches Lina run out and start yelling* uh… ho boy. EOMER! *Aragorn runs up and bonks Lina on the head* Okay now, be nice. Aragorn: But I've always wanted to do that! Sarah: You just said that, but just like I don't want her killing Mavranor because then we can write the story, I also don't want *you* damaging *her* because then she can't write feedback. *Aragorn grumbles, but hands Lina to Eomer* Thank you. *pats unconscious Lina on head* Congrats on spring break! :D
Eomer: Uh, yeah, I think the confetti was a little much, but it was a nice thought. ;)
w: Thank you x 10! You really missed Duurben? *idiotic grin* Wow! And I'm so glad you liked the meeting of the two! What we wanted most was to keep the characters realistic and also prove that Legolas and Duurben each have their own personal places as friends of Thorongil. *'nuther idiotic grin (Sarah is prone to them when immensely pleased)* We avoided sappy! Hooray! I'm glad you liked their conversation and relationship so much; it's important, since they are the two main characters, that we do that correctly. ;)
Just so you know 'Unforgiven' doesn't refer to Legolas… And this chapter is a bit slow as well, but here goes! (We speed up eventually: scout's honor!) :D
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Thorongil
By Sarah and Hannah (Siri)
(disclaimers, explanations, and summaries
available at the top of chapter 1)
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Chapter 16
Unforgiven
Duurben rose respectfully to meet his captain, ignoring Thorongil's tactful attempt to keep him seated. Kelegalen and Eorwine were also gathered about the small fire.
"I'm glad to see you have returned, Duurben; I was beginning to wonder what had kept you." Thorongil sat beside Kelegalen, taking in his withdrawn expression. "What has happened?"
"On our return we found the body of a Rohirrim messenger, a Southron spear through his heart," Duurben explained briefly. "He had been carrying a message for Captain Eorwine, but it could no longer be found on his person. We were left to conclude the enemy had taken it, and we returned the body to Ladin. We offered to take a duplicate copy of the message with us when we returned."
"What did the message say?" Thorongil asked.
"It spoke of King Thengel's plans for the defense of our forts," Eorwine said heavily. "We are to meet the enemy openly upon the fields and retreat to the forts only if badly pressed. In this way the king hopes to prevent our walls from falling before the enemy does."
"And should this information prove useful to the enemy?"
"Perhaps not," Kelegalen admitted, "it is by no means an unusual maneuver, and it would take little skill to guess, but the event is unsettling. It shows that the Southrons are becoming bolder, if they came so close as to slay a messenger directly in between our two greatest strong points. And who knows what a clever general may create from such knowledge!"
"If anything, it could possibly make him overconfident," Thorongil suggested. "They have no means for bringing down your walls, except perhaps their war beasts, and a chance to meet you in the field may strike them as fortunate. They do not know of the Rohirrim's skill with horses."
"Perhaps not," Kelegalen said again, but sighed.
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Thorongil rolled over, effectively pulling his own blankets off, and woke. He was alone in the tent. Rising with a yawn, he lifted the flap and went outside, shivering in the biting air of the early morning. The only movement in the rest of the camp was a few soldiers on specific errands, but Legolas would not have risked such a walk even so. Glancing down at the dirt, Thorongil spied light markings leading around behind the tent and through the narrow alley between the rear of the row of workshops and the wall of the fort. Following the trail north, Thorongil found himself on the hills, empty of buildings because of the thick scattering of rocks. Atop a large one of these sat a pale figure, its face turned towards the Anduin and into the wind.
"Will nothing keep you in bed until a decent hour?" the man pretended to groan as he made his way to his friend's side.
Legolas cast a sidelong glance at him, "You didn't have to join me, you know."
"Aye, but I am attempting to keep you from catching a fever. I won't have you limping around half-dead, my friend, so help me I'm not."
The comment was both wry and stubborn, and the elf laughed aloud, "Strider, you are the most startling combination of child, elder, soldier, healer, man and elf I have ever had the privilege to aggravate. I feel fine."
"You don't look it."
"You don't either."
The captain made a half-hearted shove at his hair and frowned darkly at his friend, "That's not the point."
"Then what is? I won't have you limping about on me either. My ribs are practically mended, my strength is returning, I slept well; my face is sore, but that is all. You have barely seated yourself in three days."
"I'm sitting now," Thorongil retorted.
"Child."
"Elf."
There was a companionable silence.
"What were you doing?" Thorongil asked at last.
"Listening. If you are still, you can hear the Anduin as it rushes to the sea, horses in the Wold, and distant men chopping firewood. Then the camp begins to waken and it is all drowned out."
"Are you not pleased to be surrounded by men?" the question was frank.
"That is not it," Legolas shook his head. "I have watched these Rohirrim, and I spoke long of them with Nethtalt and Findel yesterday when you were gone. I admire their courage to protect their homes and also their honor in dealing with each other. Perhaps I also pity them; elves have not fought against elves for many thousands of years — but I know it is difficult to look into the enemy's eyes and see a portion of yourself."
"It is," Thorongil agreed soberly. "And it is something I am sure Ilúvatar never meant to occur, but free will produces flaws as well as virtues in men and elves."
"Someone approaches," Legolas murmured, and a moment later, footsteps could be heard coming closer.
"Thorongil?" It was Kelegalen. "Eorwine thought he saw you start out this way. What are— Legolas!"
The elf rose gracefully, smiling in greeting, and then accepting the embrace the man offered, "It is good to see you at last, Kelegalen."
"I am sorry I did not see you sooner, but men seem ever to be calling me hither and yon. I am glad to see you so well — though Thorongil had told me you were recovering rapidly."
"I am feeling quite well," Legolas confirmed, casting a glance at his companion. "Well enough to leave that tent, at any rate."
"Legolas felt an overpowering urge to listen to men chopping firewood before the sun was up," Thorongil teased his friend. "Whatever my feelings on the matter may be, it would likely be well for us to establish him as an accepted resident of the camp. His own clothing is practically not fit to be worn in the cold weather anymore," here he eyed the shabby state of his friend's garb beneath the concealing cloak, "so I will need to lend him some things of my own anyway. If he keeps his ears covered and curbs that haughty elven walk of his, he should be able to get along without attracting attention." And at the word 'haughty', Thorongil ducked as his friend made to slap him upside the back of his head.
"Of course," Kelegalen nodded with a chuckle that slowly changed to a frown, as if a stray thought had crossed his mind. "Legolas, what did you say you were listening for?"
Legolas stared, as did his friend, "Men chopping firewood, near the river."
Kelegalen spoke as if he were alone in his own head, mulling over a peculiar problem, "Nobody in camp would be chopping anything… but the only trees near the river… and that could…" His head snapped up, "Thorongil, we may need your plan a little sooner than we had thought."
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Legolas fastened his tunic and sighed almost imperceptibly. Almost.
"What?" Thorongil demanded with raised eyebrows. "Do not even bother starting off on how I smell: half of those are Nethtalt's."
"I dislike imitating humans — the results when I've attempted it have been problematical at best. And why is it humans take such little trouble with the what they wear?" The elf brushed absently at the trousers, looser than the ones he wore usually, and shook his head, "It will be next to impossible to move unobtrusively in garb such as this."
"We can't all be immortal artisans," Thorongil chided philosophically, not hiding his merriment. "And it only looks that way on you."
"Thank you, Thorongil," Legolas' tone was wintry, and he tugged carefully at his headband to make sure it was snug. "Let us hope that nobody sees through this. I would rather not be chased out of Rohan just now."
"Yes," Thorongil agreed, seemingly thinking on another vein. "Are you certain you want to stay, for this? You still have the message from your father."
"Actually, I do not. It was taken from me," Legolas said briefly. "And I can go to Lórien and tell them so as soon as this is over. Though I did not actually read it, I know it was not terribly urgent. This is."
Thorongil nodded and smiled his thanks warmly, "I shall be very glad to have you."
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The stable door creaked unevenly on its hinges as Thorongil pushed it open, carrying Maerhiin's saddle bag. They would not be bringing the horses with them all the way but instead leaving them in Nannva.
He did not notice there was anyone else in the long, dimly lit building until they moved, and even then, it took him a moment to recognize the man.
"Stavhold?"
The warden nodded, stepping from the shadows to brush the other side of his horse: a quick, pale tan creature with an equally pale mane.
"You have a fine animal," Thorongil complimented, running his fingers through the mane of his own mount.
"Aye, Throssteil is a good beast," Stavhold agreed, his tone that of a man speaking to himself.
There was a long silence. Towards the back of the stable, Gálmod's horse, Espalass, nickered, and Maerhiin stamped in response. Thorongil hummed a sad song from his childhood under his breath as he groomed his animal, and the wind murmured beyond the walls. The beams above them creaked.
"I never thanked you." The low words were almost inaudible.
Thorongil turned, his face gentle, "For what?"
"For my life," Stavhold whispered. "Never, not once." The brush moved rhythmically, "And when you asked for aid, which I could have given… I turned away."
"I understood what you feared, Stavhold," Thorongil told him. "It was no small thing to ask of any man."
"Do not excuse it," the man muttered with a sort of broken ferocity. "You can never excuse it! I was a *coward* — a creature lower than a man — not even fit to die amongst them."
"I did not say I excused, Stavhold," Thorongil said firmly. "But I *do* understand," he caught the man's gaze squarely, "and I forgive. All of it. Just as Kelegalen, and Nethtalt, and Legolas have. It is forgotten between us."
The remaining gray eye and the black patch stared from the man's lined face, like a soul half living and half fettered. His voice rasped as his throat seemed to constrict. "I — cannot forget."
The door creaked again and the man was gone. Thorongil sighed sorrowfully, resting his forehead against Maerhiin's warm side. In the next stall, Throssteil watched her master leave with dark, mournful eyes.
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The guardroom was full, but the crowded feel was due more to the smallness of the room than the number of men. There were only eight, counting Legolas, and all picked specifically by Kelegalen for this undertaking. By the wall sat Thalion and Gálmod; Duurben sat behind Thorongil and Legolas; Kelegalen and Nethtalt leaned together over a small map of the Wold; Stavhold stood in the corner, half hiding in the shadows.
Thalion closed the door and Kelegalen straightened. "Before we leave, I feel it is necessary that we understand where and why we are going. Some of you were present when Thorongil said he felt we needed to examine the enemy more closely, now that the Southrons have taken such an initiative with us. During the past few days Thorongil's friend Legolas has been out early on several occasions and has caught the sounds of wood being chopped."
There were a few interested glances cast at Legolas, but they seemed to accept him without suspicion. Stavhold leaned back even further, so that the only half of his face visible was obscured by his eye patch.
Kelegalen continued, "The only large sources of trees near enough to be heard are across the Anduin in the North Undeep. There are no Rohirrim living in that area, therefore the only possibility is that he has heard the Southrons.
"And if there are enough of the enemy to require them to encamp on both sides of the river, we may be in greater jeopardy than we have long supposed. The only way to be certain is to cross the Anduin and spy out the land ourselves."
He looked around, catching the eyes of each of them in turn, "Eorwine agrees with my instinct on this matter and has asked me to oversee this and I have in turn chosen each of you for very sound reasons. We cannot afford to bring greater strength with us for fear of discovery, and we will be unable to request aid if we are beset, therefore we must be cautious above all else."
TBC…