Beautiful Stranger

Prequel to Silent words, Comfort me

Author's note: just struck me…why do artistes of every sort seem to get more famous when they die? Kind of defeats the purpose of living…

Standard disclaimers apply.

Chapter 3

He woke abruptly, aware of a silent presence.

Without altering the rhythm of his breaths, he peered cautiously through a slit in his eyelids, then stared in mute disbelief at the figure sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed.

The elf was shrouded in shadow, but even the moonless night could not mute the gold of his hair, nor the gleam of the dagger by his side.

For a time, Aragorn merely lay still, unsure of what to do, but knowing that to break this fragile peace would sunder the surreal beauty of the scene before him.

"I know you're awake," the elf said quietly, "No, don't speak, just leave this place. Tomorrow…or better, go now, before it's too late."

"Why…"Aragorn began.

The elf shook his head, signaling the man to silence. "He'll kill you," he said simply, "If I don't do it, he'll find someone else to, but he'll never let you leave his fort alive."

Swinging his legs gracefully to the floor, the elf took up the dagger and made to leave.

"Dartha!" he called to the departing elf.

The elf paused and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Sindarin," he said, "Who are you Man, that you speak our tongue?"

Aragorn hesitated. There were too many answers to that question; for the first twenty years of his life, he had been Estel, while for the last five, the Rohirrim called him Thorongil. And yet, whatever name he took, he had always been…"Aragorn," he replied simply, "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn." And heir to Isildur, who betrayed all of Middle-earth. "I grew up in Rivendell."

The elf nodded, mulling over this new information. "Suilannad," he said gravely, "Would that we had met under different circumstances." Turning, he continued his walk towards the door.

"May I know your name?" Aragorn called as loudly as dared to the departing figure.

The elf stopped, but remained quiet for so long that Aragorn thought he would not answer. "Pen," he finally replied, before disappearing from sight.

"Stranger," Aragorn murmured to himself. Staring into space, he smiled and wondered aloud, "Who are you bein pen? Who is this beautiful stranger?"

~

As the door swung slowly shut behind him, Legolas sank to his knees, and wept.

He had steeled himself to kill the man, but even in the unrelenting darkness, his elven gaze had picked out the fall of dark thick hair framing brown eyes set in a narrow face. Though that was where the man's resemblance to Gwain ended, the brief similarity had struck him deep, and the dagger had fallen harmlessly from his hand.

Cursing his own foolishness, he wiped the tears angrily from his cheeks. There was no time to waste on useless sentiments, he had to find Mattius and get him out before Harad discovered his duplicity.

Legolas rose to his feet and ran lightly down the corridor, glancing at the stars through the windows. There were only so many places Harad could put the child, and with luck, all of them would be miles away by dawn.

~

A candlemark later, he was just about ready to admit defeat. The boy wasn't in the dungeons, where they'd both resided until the day before. Neither was he in the servants' quarters, or curled in front of the kitchen fireplace with the rest of the children who served the cook.

He'd scoured the stables from end to end, and had cautiously scanned through the barracks in the courtyard. The only place left to search was Harad's personal rooms - they occupied the entire third story of the main building, encompassing both the Duke's sleeping area and his private study.

As Legolas pushed the heavy study door open, a rusted hinge squealed in protest, and he winced at the discordant sound. Squeezing through the narrow opening, he edged his way in sideways rather than risk further noise.

The feel of cold metal to his throat made him stop short, caught halfway into the room. Fear gripped him for a moment, then a familiar voice said, "Elf?"

The knife fell away, and a strong hand tugged Legolas all the way into Harad's study. He stumbled free of the door, and fell against the man's broad chest.

Pushing him aside angrily, Legolas straightened and said in a harsh whisper to cover his embarrassment, "I thought I told you to leave."

Aragorn smiled thinly, and gestured towards the desk with its myriad contents. "I came here for a purpose," he said, "and what you've told me has only confirmed my suspicions." He walked back to the oblong bulk, and continued running his fingers over the smooth wood, searching for the trigger to the secret compartment he knew had to be present. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

The elf studied the sturdy desk, recognizing Edhellond handiwork. Pushing the man aside, he pulled out the first drawer and felt for the concealed lever at the back. A slim panel of wood slid aside, revealing a stack of letters and documents.

Legolas pulled out the sheaf of papers, and handed them to the surprised man. "Here," he said, "now will you go?"

Aragorn scanned through the correspondents as best he could in the dim light. The little he was able to make out was already sufficient to charge Duke Harad of Wold with high treason. Now that proof had been found, he should return to Edoras immediately, but… he turned to the elf.

"My thanks," he said, "but you still haven't told me your purpose in being here."

Legolas debated his options, then shrugged and was about to answer when the door burst open, and the sudden glare of torches blinded him for an instant. Harad shoved Mattius before him by the scruff of his shirt, laughing arrogantly as the dozen guards surrounded the chance conspirators.

"What a profitable night!" he crowed happily, "just the two people I was hoping to see." He shook the boy roughly, and waggled his eyebrows at Legolas. "Looking for someone?" he asked, "I hope you didn't think me gullible enough to leave you armed and unwatched?"

Legolas glared at him, and would have rushed the pudgy duke immediately had Aragorn not laid a restraining hand around his wrists. The man palmed a throwing dagger from his belt, and handed it stealthily to the elf.

"Let's see," Harad continued, "both of you could throw down your weapons immediately, or be forcibly rid of them in a most painful manner - though you will die either way." He watched them both unwaveringly, "So what will it be?"

Legolas smiled back coldly, and flung the knife in his face. It took him in the eye, and blood poured down the duke's cheeks in a grotesque rain of red tears as he screamed in pain. Mattius struggled free of his grip and ran to the elf, who stooped to pick him up. Snatching the long knife from Aragorn's left hand, he shoved the crying child into his arms.

"Go," he commanded the startled man, "I'll deal with it from here."

"But…"

"NOW!" Legolas spun in a deadly dance around the room; three men had already fallen before his blade, and the confidence that arose from having overwhelming numbers began to be replaced by caution in the guards.

Aragorn charged towards the study door, clearing his own path with the dagger in his right hand and the child clutched protectively with his left. Legolas glimpsed the two of them flying down the corridor before the remaining seven men closed in a circle around him.

Though the elf had both superior skill and experience, a month of bread and water had sapped his stamina, and once the initial adrenaline began to wear off, exhaustion gnawed at his limbs. An observant guard sensed his momentary weakness, and scored a deep gash across his right thigh. So this is how it ends. Legolas thought, falling to one knee. But before the guards could finish him off, Harad's booming voice cried, "Stop!"

The duke struggled forward, a cloth held to his ruined eye. "I want to kill him myself," he said, half-mad with pain and rage. He wrenched a sword from the nearest guard and advanced upon the elf. "You will pay for this," he shrieked in outrage, raising the sword above his head.

Legolas twisted to his side, and though he was unable to duck the blade completely, it missed his heart, plunging instead into less vital flesh. Harad blinked in surprise, and the elf shoved the dagger he still held into his belly, and twisted it upwards. This is for you Gwain.

The duke's mouth gaped soundlessly as his guts spilled onto the floor, and he collapsed, convulsing in the throes of death. The stunned men gathered around their fallen leader, at a loss for what to do.

Legolas struggled to his feet, knowing that this would probably be the only chance he had of escape. Since his enemies blocked the exit to the room, the window at his back would have to be avenue enough. To the shouts of armed men, he gathered the last of his strength and leapt from the windowsill.

Blood poured from his side and leg as the air rushed past, but the elf landed cat-light on the ground three stories beneath him. He struggled to his feet as darkness threatened to overwhelm him and spots danced before his eyes.

The pounding of hooves made him look up. Aragorn reined the horse in before him, and extended a hand to the elf. "Come on up," he said.

Legolas reached towards him, and was hauled into the saddle. As strong arms cradled him gently atop the galloping horse, the elf gazed at the man through pain-glazed eyes and asked wryly, "Don't you ever listen?"

Aragorn smiled down at the elf.

"No."


© ai 2003

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