A.N. The second chapter of this update - originally these last two were
planned as one long chapter, but I realised it was *too* long and they
worked better individually. Some stuff I meant to include in this chapter
has been left out for length and to make the chapter work better, but it
will be included in Chapter Nine, which hopefully should *not* take as long
as these two chapters have.
I have read through and edited as best I can, but in my hurry to get these last two chapters up some mistakes will probably have escaped my notice. I've tried to fix anything dramatically wrong.
Hope you like it! This is a fairly long chapter with a mix of plot- progression and.. Well, a bit more plot-progression. ^_^
Cloudy
~
Chapter Eight - Guidance
Rhachsell stirred as a wave of warmth brushed her bare arms. It was followed by a waft of dragon breath that had a strong, familiar odour.
"Faroth! You smell of rabbit!" she complained, sitting up, scattering her covering of leaves. Faroth looked smugly at her from the other side of the campfire that was now burning brightly. A dead rabbit dangled above the flames on one, draconic talon.
"Faroth! That's not how you cook them!" Rhachsell sighed as she reached out to take the rabbit from her dragon, wincing as she burnt her fingers. "I really need a knife."
/"I have claws,"/ Faroth held out his front leg, displaying a set of sharp talons still covered with rabbit fur. Rhachsell winced as she looked at them, but attempted to skin and gut the rabbit with the aid of her dragon's sharp claws. This was something she had learnt among the Orcs, though they tended to eat their kills barely cooked or even raw. Hunting and skinning was what she'd done to make herself even barely useful to them. Legolas had taught her the finer points of skinning a few months ago and although she had nowhere near his skill, it was an only slightly mangled rabbit that was spitted and cooking over the fire half an hour later.
Faroth had already eaten the second rabbit, delicately picking out the bones, but Rhachsell looked at the blackbird in dismay. /"Faroth! Why'd you kill this? It's too small."/
/"It insulted me,"/ Faroth told her petulantly. /"I missed a weasel creature and this bird was sitting in a tree shrieking at me. So I taught him to respect dragons."/
/"You're a hard teacher,"/ Rhachsell said ruefully, surveying the charred feathers. "I should bury him."
While Faroth kept the spitted rabbit turning so it didn't burn, Rhachsell managed to dig a small hole and place the blackbird in the bottom. She was just filling it in again when a voice spoke behind her.
"Who the... Hey! What're you doing here?!"
Terrified Rhachsell swung round. A tall, dark haired man wearing the rough, dull clothes of a farmer, was standing at the edge of the woods gaping at her. As he saw Rhachsell's face he cried out and backed away.
"Begone demon!" he yelled desperately, almost falling in his haste to get away. "Linger not in this place!!"
Rhachsell blushed red with a mixture of fury and humiliation as the man starting mumbled what sounded like a prayer as he kept backing away - only to walk right into something warm and solid. Terrified the farmer craned his neck to see... and found himself looking into the fierce, whirling red eyes of Faroth.
With an almost-scream of terror he leapt away from the dragon and fled past Rhachsell, scattering dirt and leaves over the campfire as he ran. Blind with fear and rage, Rhachsell scrambled to her feet and stumbled to Faroth, somehow mounting without even being aware of it, tearing her skirt on the branches of a bush in her haste. Seconds later they were rising above the trees, Faroth growling angrily after the fleeing farmer.
When they were high above the ground, the dragon tentatively craned his neck around to breathe hot air against Rhachsell's bare foot - she'd lost one of the slippers in her rush to get away.
/"Are. are you hurt?"/ he inquired anxiously. /"I can go and eat that man if you want-"/
/"I'm fine Faroth," / Rhachsell said bitterly. /"Just fine."/
There was a pause. /"You're still hungry - that man ruined our rabbit,"/ Faroth remarked, tactfully not pointing out that if she was fine then she shouldn't have tears streaking her cheeks. /"I saw a village towards the west. We could-"/
"No!" Rhachsell's voice rose in panic. "NO people Faroth!"
Her dragon snorted. /"We don't have to be seen."/
/"And they'll miss you how exactly?!"/
/"I'll stay out of sight and you can sneak up for some food. Then if you get into trouble just yell for me and I'll scare them away."/
Still the half-orc hesitated. "But if-"
/"IF. You'll be fine and you have to eat. Relax."/
Rhachsell sat in mute terror as her dragon turned west and flew steadily over the fields. The farmer had scared her badly, especially since her contact with Men had been limited before she visited Gondor. She wasn't keen to repeat the experience. Aragorn's words still stung.
/"Faroth I think-"/
/"If you don't eat you'll faint mid flight or worse, starve to death,"/ Faroth answered uncharacteristically firmly. /"If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me - I can't live on one rabbit. We're going to that village and you're going to get some food."/
Rhachsell slumped, only her tight grip on Faroth's neck ridge keeping her upright. When her dragon made up his mind arguing was useless, so resigned to her fate, she kept a wary eye out for more people as the fields passed by below.
~
Legolas galloped along the main road away from Minas Tirith, oblivious to wide-eyed stares from the people working in the fields. A young farm hand was forced to dive to one side as the elf shot past and his muffled swearing drifted up from the hedge, making a few people working nearby pause in confusion.
The elf-king didn't notice - he was too deep in thought about Rhachsell. Anira had tried to keep up at first, but fallen behind with much harsh scolding until she flashed /between/ and came out on his shoulder. Now she was clinging to his tunic, keeping up a shrill litany of threatening whistles in his ear.
He passed through the Rammas Echor without heeding the shouts of the guards and swiftly entered the wood where they had left Faroth before entering the city. Although Elven-bred, his horse was gasping for air by now. When one hoof went through the dead leaves littering the floor into a pot hole, the stallion hit the ground with a thud. Legolas was taken by surprise and hurled forwards to hit the ground hard. There was a polite cough and the elf glanced up, cheeks flushed with humiliation at his undignified dismount.
Aragorn crouched to help his friend to his feet, but Legolas ignored the offered hand, instead climbing painfully upright alone. Removing the hand with a sigh, Aragorn straightened up beside the elf, gesturing the a group of mounted guards in neat formation on the road nearby.
"I brought reinforcements."
"Well, I don't want them." Legolas stalked over to his horse who was now trembling on three legs. His left foreleg was held painfully off the ground, already swelling to twice it's normal size. Wincing, the elf knelt to inspect the damage.
"You may not want us, but I think you need us," Aragorn remarked, watching the careful examination of the stallion. He reached for the horse's reins and almost lost his fingers as the animal lunged at him. Legolas hastily grabbed a handful of mane to steady the stallion as he wobbled on his three good legs.
"Next time he won't miss Aragorn." Legolas' tone was harsh. "You've done enough damage already so go back to your palace and play at being king some more. I'll find Rhachsell."
Stung, the king gritted his teeth. "Don't let pride cloud your better judgement Legolas-"
"MY judgement?!" The elf rounded on him. "Whose judgement was it to say things that drove away my daughter? Whose judgement was it when you let Arwen act as badly as all those scatter brained elf-maids I thought I'd left behind in Mirkwood? Do NOT speak to me of judgement when your own is so flawed!"
Aragorn's fists clenched convulsively. The guards were starting to exchange nervous looks - they weren't sure how to stop a brawl between their king and an honoured visitor.
"What do you know of my judgement?" The king's voice was low, more dangerous than if he had been shouting. "You know /nothing/ of me or what I've sacrificed. You're blinded by foolish Elven pride and when you fail and lose Rhachsell forever don't come running back to me with cries for help." His eyes were laden with scorn as he turned towards his horse. "Have fun limping onwards in your quest," he said sarcastically over his shoulder. "See how far your Elvish pride gets you with a lamed horse and no clue of where to go." The king mounted and turned his horse's head towards Gondor.
Legolas stood stiffly in the road, twisting his stallion's reins between his hands in inner torment. Anira had retreated to the treetops out of the way, but he knew her angry hissing was directed at him, not Aragorn.
One of the guards dismounted with a wary glance towards the king and strode hastily to Legolas' side. With a start the elf recognized Nahar, the guard he'd spoken to earlier. Now the man looked furious, dark eyes burning with anger.
"You really have no clue do you?!" the guard snapped. "You'll turn him away after he's given up /everything/ to come after you! The other guards are saying the Lady Arwen made him chose between her and you - and he chose you. Then you repay him by turning him away! I'd heard tales of the stubborn pride of the elves, but I'd never guessed you were so stupid as to turn away the only help you'll get!"
Legolas came very close to gutting the man and his hand was actually halfway to the white-hafted knives on his back before Nahar's words registered. "Arwen? Made him.. /chose/?!"
"And he chose you," Nahar finished softly.
The elf stood frozen for a moment more then finally pride gave way and he sprinted after Aragorn now trotting back towards Gondor. "Aragorn! Wait!"
The king reined in his horse and dismounted, turning to face Legolas as the elf approached. There was a long, tense moment as they faced each other, Aragorn silent and regal, Legolas desperately searching for the right words.
"Aragorn look, I.." He swallowed - apologising was not one of his talents. "I'm sorry. I need your help to find Rhachsell."
For a second it seemed as if Aragorn wasn't going to accept the apology, then his stern expression relaxed and he pulled Legolas into a hug. "By the Valar Legolas, you had me worried for a moment! I thought I was going to have to ride all the way back to Gondor and leave you on your own!"
Legolas exhaled shakily, leaning against Aragorn's horse for support. "For a minute there I was going to let you!" He narrowed his eyes. "Nahar said something about Arwen....?"
Aragorn's smile froze and his grip on Legolas' arm tightened. "Could we.. Can we not talk about that? For now," he added as an afterthought.
Legolas nodded understandingly, then faltered. "Are you sure you want to do this Aragorn?" he said seriously. "Arwen is your wife, your queen. I know you want to help me, but.. sacrificing your marriage? Are you sure?"
With a half smile Aragorn nodded, waving over one of the guards. "I'm positive." Turning, he spoke to the man who dismounted. "Take King Legolas' horse back to Gondor /carefully/. He'll need complete rest.. well the stable-hands will know what to do. Leave your horse for Legolas to ride."
The guard nodded, hiding his disappointment at being sent back by turning towards Legolas' stallion. He repeated Aragorn's mistake and almost got his fingers bitten off, but after a stern word from Legolas the horse meekly let himself be led, limping, into the woods.
Legolas stared after them. "But the road to Gondor is here. where are they going?!"
Aragorn led the guard's chestnut mare over. "Legolas, what kind of king would I be if I didn't know all the secret passageways out of Gondor? Didn't you wonder how we caught up with you so quickly?"
Legolas blushed as he mounted the mare. "Maybe," he mumbled under his breath. From his shoulder Anira whistled in amusement. Aragorn laughed as he mounted his own horse.
"Now where did Nahar see Faroth heading?"
"North-west," supplied Legolas. Aragorn nodded, swinging his horse around.
"To Rohan then!"
~
Faroth circled down a short way from the village, landing in a field of towering corn stalks, tall enough to hide him if he crouched down. Rhachsell slid off his back, trembling.
Faroth nudged her gently towards the plumes of smoke that could be seen rising from the village's chimneys. /"You'll be fine. If you need help just call, I'll be there right away."/
Still reluctant, Rhachsell started to wade through the cornfield, pushing her way through the thick forest of stalks. After only a few steps the plants closed in around her, hiding Faroth from view. She was lost in a bewildering maze of endless golden stems.
The thought flitted through her mind - she could pretend she had gotten lost, say she couldn't find her way out then persuade Faroth this was a bad idea. They could leave. She didn't need to see people again.
/"Don't even think about it."/ Faroth sounded stern. Rhachsell hissed under her breath and continued towards the village.
She stumbled abruptly out the field at one corner, only a few feet from the nearest house. She had been planning to knock at the door and ask for food but now her nerve failed and she turned to flee back towards her dragon.
The scent of fresh bread made her hesitate. On the windowsill of the nearest house, only a few paces from where she stood, two fresh loaves had been left to cool. Without thinking, Rhachsell ran lightly over to the house and snatched the bread, sprinting back into the cornfield before the inhabitants even knew she was there. A housewife's angry shout followed her as she scrambled back to Faroth but by the time the people made it outside, Rhachsell and her dragon were merely a black dot in the sky.
They landed about three or four miles away beside a small pond where they could both drink. Rhachsell tore into the warm bread ravenously, eating half a loaf almost before her feet touched the ground. She sat without pausing, only slowing when the first of the loaves had gone and she was tearing chunks out the second.
Faroth lay down at her back, curling his head around so he could watch her eat. /"See? You managed. You didn't even need me for help."/
Rhachsell had a mouthful of bread and couldn't answer so she merely waved a hand dismissively. Tossing the remaining, much battered loaf to her left hand she scooted over to the water for a drink - and froze.
Her face was reflected in the pond's calm, dark surface as clearly as in a mirror. Her scars stood out clearly and she raised a trembling hand to trace the raised welts of skin across her cheeks. Her nose was barely definable under the rough scars where the metal rings had pierced her skin. Her blond hair, now tangled and full of leaves hung in scraggily rat-tails around her face.
A thief. She was a thief. She was an ugly half-breed whose one redeeming feature - honesty - had just been lost. She was lost.
/"Rhachsell!"/ Faroth sounded alarmed. /"It was just a few loaves of bread! No one will begrudge you that - you were hungry."/
"So what do I do now?" his rider demanded, flinging the remains of the second loaf away with as must force as she could muster. "Do I return to Gondor with my tail between my legs, begging forgiveness for running away? Or do I stay out here, stealing and snatching what I need to survive? I'm /useless/ Faroth - to everyone!" She smashed her fist into the water, dissolving her hated reflection in a crazed mass of ripples.
/"You aren't useless to me,"/ Faroth said timidly, breathing warm air on her chilled feet, both bare now she had lost the dancing slippers. /"You're my rider and I'm your dragon. Your lineage isn't your fault; neither is the fact that people dislike your appearance because of superstitious, foolish beliefs. Your father-"/
"My /father/ is safely back in Minas Tirith with..." Rhachsell faltered, unable to say 'Aragorn'. His betrayal still hurt. "With his friends. They hate me being there. Ar.. The king proved that. It's better if I stay away."
Faroth rumbled thoughtfully, his rider's thoughts reminding him of the conversation that had driven them from Gondor. /"Didn't the icy one say something about her mother? That's why she didn't like you, because of some grudge against the Orcs?"/
Rhachsell frowned - she had been trying to avoid thinking of the argument and had been more concerned with Aragorn's side than Arwen's. "She said.... her mother was captured by Orcs.
~
"How it feels to sit and wonder if she lives or dies, if you will ever see her again and if you do, what her face will look like when the Orcs are through with her?"
~
Rhachsell gasped abruptly, making Faroth swing his head up in concern. "She had every right to hate me!" The half-Orc leaned forward to stare into the water which had now calmed to mirror-smooth again. Her hated Orc-features stared back and her voice cracked as she spoke. "I'm from the people who did that to her family.. I should never have gone to Gondor." Sudden anger flared. "Aragorn should never have asked me to go! I. he..."
Devastated, she rested her forehead on her drawn-up knees, hiding her face. Faroth made a sound she had never heard before, a half growl, half whimper.
/"Dear one, it wasn't your fault. Please, don't blame yourself."/ He sounded as pathetic as a dragon /could/ sound when he added, /"I love you. Is that not good enough?"/
Rhachsell threw her arms around his neck, burying her face against his warm scales. /"No Faroth! I love you more than anything in the world."/ She could feel her dragon's confusion and hurt radiating from him in waves. /"Never ever think that you aren't good enough for me because you are, you're everything and I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you..."/
Faroth didn't reply, just curled up around her, keeping her warm. Miserably, Rhachsell slid under one of his wings as though it were a blanket and curled up against her dragon's side, resting her head the soft grass. Faroth carefully sent soothing thoughts to her until she began to drift away into sleep.
~
/She was walking through a forest of massive grey trees, far bigger and more beautiful than any she had seen, even in Mirkwood. There were no people, no buildings, only trees and soft grass, studded with tiny yellow flowers. They brushed her bare feet as she walked, hesitantly, through the dim, twilight woods.
She could have walked for one minute, or twenty or years before she glimpsed the silvery light - there was no way of judging time amidst these stately trees. The light shone between them, flickering like a pale candle. Rhachsell ran towards it, grateful for some sign of life in this mysterious place.
The light was coming from the water in a small basin on a carved stone pedestal, shaped like a branching tree. The basin itself was made of silver but the pedestal could have been made of stone or silver or mithril or anything, for it blended into the twilight, at times seeming almost to vanish entirely, leaving the silver basin floating on air.
Rhachsell approached it cautiously, the light playing over her face as she leaned over to look in the water. She cast no reflection - there was only stars, a thousand pinpricks of light glimmering in the depths. Curious she put out a hand, intending to see it there were actually small specks of gold in the basin because when she glanced up there was only the branching canopy high overhead - no stars were visible.
"Do not touch the water," a deep, musical voice warned. From the shadows stepped a tall elf-lady in white, her golden hair falling to her waist in a shining cascade. Rhachsell swallowed, stepping away from the basin.
"Where am I?"
"You are beside a small pond in Rohan, asleep beside your dragon- mate." The lady smiled as she crouched so she could look at Rhachsell better. "I am in my kingdom of the Golden Woods, Lothlórien. Yet we speak."
Rhachsell trembled. This must be Galadriel, the Lady of Lórien, ancient and wise. It took her a moment to find her voice again.
"Why- why are we speaking? Am I dreaming, or... something.." Her voice trailed away in confusion and Galadriel's smile deepened as she held out a slender white hand.
"I have brought you here while you walked the world of dreams, to show you something. Will you look into my Mirror?"
"Your. Mirror?" Rhachsell glanced over at the basin - she had heard tales of it from her father. She wasn't sure if she wanted to see what it could show her. "Should I?"
"I would not have brought you here otherwise."
With a deep breath, the half-elf nodded. "I will look." She slid a small, battered hand into the smooth pale one and let herself be led back to the silver basin. Galadriel breathed on the water which rippled faintly, then cleared. The stars were gone, leaving only deep blackness.
With a final, silent prayer to anyone who might be listening, Rhachsell stepped forward and leaned over the water. Galadriel laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Do no touch the water," she warned again, softly. Rhachsell nodded and turned to look.
At once the Mirror cleared, a landscape taking shape in the still water - an endless rolling sea of sand, glowing deep orange in the setting sun. Before Rhachsell could wonder, the dunes dissolved and reformed into a forest. A unicorn shaped of starlight walked along a sandy path. Beside the half-elf, Galadriel stiffened at this, eyes widening a fraction but the picture was gone again, changing to a cave. A fire flickered, casting shadows and a golden glow over Rhachsell's face then a tall man entered the image, with skin as dark as night and covered with even darker tattoos. He knelt to stoke the fire then turned abruptly and seemed to be staring right out the water at Rhachsell. She gasped and would have pulled away if not for Galadriel's reassuring hand on her shoulder.
The man was gone and now the pictures were coming faster, only the barest flickers. Rhachsell glimpsed a black city amidst sand dunes, a leafy oasis reflecting a sky filled with stars and a lone horse galloping across the night-dark desert. Just as the rapid play of pictures was making her dizzy one image formed and stayed.
A huge white tower, surrounded by roaring waves, reaching it seemed to the sun. From the very top shone a light brighter than any flame, which made Rhachsell flinch away, squinting. With an abruptness that was startling the light vanished but the tower remained for a moment longer until a long crack snaked up the side. Chunks of white stone rained down into the sea, creating massive waves and immense plumes of spray. Then the tower cracked, all the way across and the top half fell, almost in slow motion to hit the sea with a crash that was nearly audible. Rhachsell flinched away as spray splashed her face; when she licked it from her lips, it was salty.
The picture changed again, still the tower, but this time it was in ruins, battered, only a few ragged spires reaching above the sea surface. The grime of ages had turned the white stone black, the furious sea had gouged huge gashes in the one carved sides, but the remains of the towers were still, defiantly, standing.
The Mirror went dark without warning and Rhachsell stumbled back, almost falling until Galadriel caught her. Dazed and confused, the half-elf looked up into a pair of dazzlingly blue eyes.
"What does it mean?" she whispered. "I don't- I don't understand!"
"You will." Galadriel leaned down to kiss her forehead, cool lips against rough skin. "Sleep now little one and when you wake, all will become clear. My blessings go with you."
Rhachsell felt her eyes drifting shut and tried desperately to force them open again. "But I need to know- how- where?!"
"You will know." Galadriel's musical voice followed her down as she fell into the dark depths of sleep.
~
I have read through and edited as best I can, but in my hurry to get these last two chapters up some mistakes will probably have escaped my notice. I've tried to fix anything dramatically wrong.
Hope you like it! This is a fairly long chapter with a mix of plot- progression and.. Well, a bit more plot-progression. ^_^
Cloudy
~
Chapter Eight - Guidance
Rhachsell stirred as a wave of warmth brushed her bare arms. It was followed by a waft of dragon breath that had a strong, familiar odour.
"Faroth! You smell of rabbit!" she complained, sitting up, scattering her covering of leaves. Faroth looked smugly at her from the other side of the campfire that was now burning brightly. A dead rabbit dangled above the flames on one, draconic talon.
"Faroth! That's not how you cook them!" Rhachsell sighed as she reached out to take the rabbit from her dragon, wincing as she burnt her fingers. "I really need a knife."
/"I have claws,"/ Faroth held out his front leg, displaying a set of sharp talons still covered with rabbit fur. Rhachsell winced as she looked at them, but attempted to skin and gut the rabbit with the aid of her dragon's sharp claws. This was something she had learnt among the Orcs, though they tended to eat their kills barely cooked or even raw. Hunting and skinning was what she'd done to make herself even barely useful to them. Legolas had taught her the finer points of skinning a few months ago and although she had nowhere near his skill, it was an only slightly mangled rabbit that was spitted and cooking over the fire half an hour later.
Faroth had already eaten the second rabbit, delicately picking out the bones, but Rhachsell looked at the blackbird in dismay. /"Faroth! Why'd you kill this? It's too small."/
/"It insulted me,"/ Faroth told her petulantly. /"I missed a weasel creature and this bird was sitting in a tree shrieking at me. So I taught him to respect dragons."/
/"You're a hard teacher,"/ Rhachsell said ruefully, surveying the charred feathers. "I should bury him."
While Faroth kept the spitted rabbit turning so it didn't burn, Rhachsell managed to dig a small hole and place the blackbird in the bottom. She was just filling it in again when a voice spoke behind her.
"Who the... Hey! What're you doing here?!"
Terrified Rhachsell swung round. A tall, dark haired man wearing the rough, dull clothes of a farmer, was standing at the edge of the woods gaping at her. As he saw Rhachsell's face he cried out and backed away.
"Begone demon!" he yelled desperately, almost falling in his haste to get away. "Linger not in this place!!"
Rhachsell blushed red with a mixture of fury and humiliation as the man starting mumbled what sounded like a prayer as he kept backing away - only to walk right into something warm and solid. Terrified the farmer craned his neck to see... and found himself looking into the fierce, whirling red eyes of Faroth.
With an almost-scream of terror he leapt away from the dragon and fled past Rhachsell, scattering dirt and leaves over the campfire as he ran. Blind with fear and rage, Rhachsell scrambled to her feet and stumbled to Faroth, somehow mounting without even being aware of it, tearing her skirt on the branches of a bush in her haste. Seconds later they were rising above the trees, Faroth growling angrily after the fleeing farmer.
When they were high above the ground, the dragon tentatively craned his neck around to breathe hot air against Rhachsell's bare foot - she'd lost one of the slippers in her rush to get away.
/"Are. are you hurt?"/ he inquired anxiously. /"I can go and eat that man if you want-"/
/"I'm fine Faroth," / Rhachsell said bitterly. /"Just fine."/
There was a pause. /"You're still hungry - that man ruined our rabbit,"/ Faroth remarked, tactfully not pointing out that if she was fine then she shouldn't have tears streaking her cheeks. /"I saw a village towards the west. We could-"/
"No!" Rhachsell's voice rose in panic. "NO people Faroth!"
Her dragon snorted. /"We don't have to be seen."/
/"And they'll miss you how exactly?!"/
/"I'll stay out of sight and you can sneak up for some food. Then if you get into trouble just yell for me and I'll scare them away."/
Still the half-orc hesitated. "But if-"
/"IF. You'll be fine and you have to eat. Relax."/
Rhachsell sat in mute terror as her dragon turned west and flew steadily over the fields. The farmer had scared her badly, especially since her contact with Men had been limited before she visited Gondor. She wasn't keen to repeat the experience. Aragorn's words still stung.
/"Faroth I think-"/
/"If you don't eat you'll faint mid flight or worse, starve to death,"/ Faroth answered uncharacteristically firmly. /"If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me - I can't live on one rabbit. We're going to that village and you're going to get some food."/
Rhachsell slumped, only her tight grip on Faroth's neck ridge keeping her upright. When her dragon made up his mind arguing was useless, so resigned to her fate, she kept a wary eye out for more people as the fields passed by below.
~
Legolas galloped along the main road away from Minas Tirith, oblivious to wide-eyed stares from the people working in the fields. A young farm hand was forced to dive to one side as the elf shot past and his muffled swearing drifted up from the hedge, making a few people working nearby pause in confusion.
The elf-king didn't notice - he was too deep in thought about Rhachsell. Anira had tried to keep up at first, but fallen behind with much harsh scolding until she flashed /between/ and came out on his shoulder. Now she was clinging to his tunic, keeping up a shrill litany of threatening whistles in his ear.
He passed through the Rammas Echor without heeding the shouts of the guards and swiftly entered the wood where they had left Faroth before entering the city. Although Elven-bred, his horse was gasping for air by now. When one hoof went through the dead leaves littering the floor into a pot hole, the stallion hit the ground with a thud. Legolas was taken by surprise and hurled forwards to hit the ground hard. There was a polite cough and the elf glanced up, cheeks flushed with humiliation at his undignified dismount.
Aragorn crouched to help his friend to his feet, but Legolas ignored the offered hand, instead climbing painfully upright alone. Removing the hand with a sigh, Aragorn straightened up beside the elf, gesturing the a group of mounted guards in neat formation on the road nearby.
"I brought reinforcements."
"Well, I don't want them." Legolas stalked over to his horse who was now trembling on three legs. His left foreleg was held painfully off the ground, already swelling to twice it's normal size. Wincing, the elf knelt to inspect the damage.
"You may not want us, but I think you need us," Aragorn remarked, watching the careful examination of the stallion. He reached for the horse's reins and almost lost his fingers as the animal lunged at him. Legolas hastily grabbed a handful of mane to steady the stallion as he wobbled on his three good legs.
"Next time he won't miss Aragorn." Legolas' tone was harsh. "You've done enough damage already so go back to your palace and play at being king some more. I'll find Rhachsell."
Stung, the king gritted his teeth. "Don't let pride cloud your better judgement Legolas-"
"MY judgement?!" The elf rounded on him. "Whose judgement was it to say things that drove away my daughter? Whose judgement was it when you let Arwen act as badly as all those scatter brained elf-maids I thought I'd left behind in Mirkwood? Do NOT speak to me of judgement when your own is so flawed!"
Aragorn's fists clenched convulsively. The guards were starting to exchange nervous looks - they weren't sure how to stop a brawl between their king and an honoured visitor.
"What do you know of my judgement?" The king's voice was low, more dangerous than if he had been shouting. "You know /nothing/ of me or what I've sacrificed. You're blinded by foolish Elven pride and when you fail and lose Rhachsell forever don't come running back to me with cries for help." His eyes were laden with scorn as he turned towards his horse. "Have fun limping onwards in your quest," he said sarcastically over his shoulder. "See how far your Elvish pride gets you with a lamed horse and no clue of where to go." The king mounted and turned his horse's head towards Gondor.
Legolas stood stiffly in the road, twisting his stallion's reins between his hands in inner torment. Anira had retreated to the treetops out of the way, but he knew her angry hissing was directed at him, not Aragorn.
One of the guards dismounted with a wary glance towards the king and strode hastily to Legolas' side. With a start the elf recognized Nahar, the guard he'd spoken to earlier. Now the man looked furious, dark eyes burning with anger.
"You really have no clue do you?!" the guard snapped. "You'll turn him away after he's given up /everything/ to come after you! The other guards are saying the Lady Arwen made him chose between her and you - and he chose you. Then you repay him by turning him away! I'd heard tales of the stubborn pride of the elves, but I'd never guessed you were so stupid as to turn away the only help you'll get!"
Legolas came very close to gutting the man and his hand was actually halfway to the white-hafted knives on his back before Nahar's words registered. "Arwen? Made him.. /chose/?!"
"And he chose you," Nahar finished softly.
The elf stood frozen for a moment more then finally pride gave way and he sprinted after Aragorn now trotting back towards Gondor. "Aragorn! Wait!"
The king reined in his horse and dismounted, turning to face Legolas as the elf approached. There was a long, tense moment as they faced each other, Aragorn silent and regal, Legolas desperately searching for the right words.
"Aragorn look, I.." He swallowed - apologising was not one of his talents. "I'm sorry. I need your help to find Rhachsell."
For a second it seemed as if Aragorn wasn't going to accept the apology, then his stern expression relaxed and he pulled Legolas into a hug. "By the Valar Legolas, you had me worried for a moment! I thought I was going to have to ride all the way back to Gondor and leave you on your own!"
Legolas exhaled shakily, leaning against Aragorn's horse for support. "For a minute there I was going to let you!" He narrowed his eyes. "Nahar said something about Arwen....?"
Aragorn's smile froze and his grip on Legolas' arm tightened. "Could we.. Can we not talk about that? For now," he added as an afterthought.
Legolas nodded understandingly, then faltered. "Are you sure you want to do this Aragorn?" he said seriously. "Arwen is your wife, your queen. I know you want to help me, but.. sacrificing your marriage? Are you sure?"
With a half smile Aragorn nodded, waving over one of the guards. "I'm positive." Turning, he spoke to the man who dismounted. "Take King Legolas' horse back to Gondor /carefully/. He'll need complete rest.. well the stable-hands will know what to do. Leave your horse for Legolas to ride."
The guard nodded, hiding his disappointment at being sent back by turning towards Legolas' stallion. He repeated Aragorn's mistake and almost got his fingers bitten off, but after a stern word from Legolas the horse meekly let himself be led, limping, into the woods.
Legolas stared after them. "But the road to Gondor is here. where are they going?!"
Aragorn led the guard's chestnut mare over. "Legolas, what kind of king would I be if I didn't know all the secret passageways out of Gondor? Didn't you wonder how we caught up with you so quickly?"
Legolas blushed as he mounted the mare. "Maybe," he mumbled under his breath. From his shoulder Anira whistled in amusement. Aragorn laughed as he mounted his own horse.
"Now where did Nahar see Faroth heading?"
"North-west," supplied Legolas. Aragorn nodded, swinging his horse around.
"To Rohan then!"
~
Faroth circled down a short way from the village, landing in a field of towering corn stalks, tall enough to hide him if he crouched down. Rhachsell slid off his back, trembling.
Faroth nudged her gently towards the plumes of smoke that could be seen rising from the village's chimneys. /"You'll be fine. If you need help just call, I'll be there right away."/
Still reluctant, Rhachsell started to wade through the cornfield, pushing her way through the thick forest of stalks. After only a few steps the plants closed in around her, hiding Faroth from view. She was lost in a bewildering maze of endless golden stems.
The thought flitted through her mind - she could pretend she had gotten lost, say she couldn't find her way out then persuade Faroth this was a bad idea. They could leave. She didn't need to see people again.
/"Don't even think about it."/ Faroth sounded stern. Rhachsell hissed under her breath and continued towards the village.
She stumbled abruptly out the field at one corner, only a few feet from the nearest house. She had been planning to knock at the door and ask for food but now her nerve failed and she turned to flee back towards her dragon.
The scent of fresh bread made her hesitate. On the windowsill of the nearest house, only a few paces from where she stood, two fresh loaves had been left to cool. Without thinking, Rhachsell ran lightly over to the house and snatched the bread, sprinting back into the cornfield before the inhabitants even knew she was there. A housewife's angry shout followed her as she scrambled back to Faroth but by the time the people made it outside, Rhachsell and her dragon were merely a black dot in the sky.
They landed about three or four miles away beside a small pond where they could both drink. Rhachsell tore into the warm bread ravenously, eating half a loaf almost before her feet touched the ground. She sat without pausing, only slowing when the first of the loaves had gone and she was tearing chunks out the second.
Faroth lay down at her back, curling his head around so he could watch her eat. /"See? You managed. You didn't even need me for help."/
Rhachsell had a mouthful of bread and couldn't answer so she merely waved a hand dismissively. Tossing the remaining, much battered loaf to her left hand she scooted over to the water for a drink - and froze.
Her face was reflected in the pond's calm, dark surface as clearly as in a mirror. Her scars stood out clearly and she raised a trembling hand to trace the raised welts of skin across her cheeks. Her nose was barely definable under the rough scars where the metal rings had pierced her skin. Her blond hair, now tangled and full of leaves hung in scraggily rat-tails around her face.
A thief. She was a thief. She was an ugly half-breed whose one redeeming feature - honesty - had just been lost. She was lost.
/"Rhachsell!"/ Faroth sounded alarmed. /"It was just a few loaves of bread! No one will begrudge you that - you were hungry."/
"So what do I do now?" his rider demanded, flinging the remains of the second loaf away with as must force as she could muster. "Do I return to Gondor with my tail between my legs, begging forgiveness for running away? Or do I stay out here, stealing and snatching what I need to survive? I'm /useless/ Faroth - to everyone!" She smashed her fist into the water, dissolving her hated reflection in a crazed mass of ripples.
/"You aren't useless to me,"/ Faroth said timidly, breathing warm air on her chilled feet, both bare now she had lost the dancing slippers. /"You're my rider and I'm your dragon. Your lineage isn't your fault; neither is the fact that people dislike your appearance because of superstitious, foolish beliefs. Your father-"/
"My /father/ is safely back in Minas Tirith with..." Rhachsell faltered, unable to say 'Aragorn'. His betrayal still hurt. "With his friends. They hate me being there. Ar.. The king proved that. It's better if I stay away."
Faroth rumbled thoughtfully, his rider's thoughts reminding him of the conversation that had driven them from Gondor. /"Didn't the icy one say something about her mother? That's why she didn't like you, because of some grudge against the Orcs?"/
Rhachsell frowned - she had been trying to avoid thinking of the argument and had been more concerned with Aragorn's side than Arwen's. "She said.... her mother was captured by Orcs.
~
"How it feels to sit and wonder if she lives or dies, if you will ever see her again and if you do, what her face will look like when the Orcs are through with her?"
~
Rhachsell gasped abruptly, making Faroth swing his head up in concern. "She had every right to hate me!" The half-Orc leaned forward to stare into the water which had now calmed to mirror-smooth again. Her hated Orc-features stared back and her voice cracked as she spoke. "I'm from the people who did that to her family.. I should never have gone to Gondor." Sudden anger flared. "Aragorn should never have asked me to go! I. he..."
Devastated, she rested her forehead on her drawn-up knees, hiding her face. Faroth made a sound she had never heard before, a half growl, half whimper.
/"Dear one, it wasn't your fault. Please, don't blame yourself."/ He sounded as pathetic as a dragon /could/ sound when he added, /"I love you. Is that not good enough?"/
Rhachsell threw her arms around his neck, burying her face against his warm scales. /"No Faroth! I love you more than anything in the world."/ She could feel her dragon's confusion and hurt radiating from him in waves. /"Never ever think that you aren't good enough for me because you are, you're everything and I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you..."/
Faroth didn't reply, just curled up around her, keeping her warm. Miserably, Rhachsell slid under one of his wings as though it were a blanket and curled up against her dragon's side, resting her head the soft grass. Faroth carefully sent soothing thoughts to her until she began to drift away into sleep.
~
/She was walking through a forest of massive grey trees, far bigger and more beautiful than any she had seen, even in Mirkwood. There were no people, no buildings, only trees and soft grass, studded with tiny yellow flowers. They brushed her bare feet as she walked, hesitantly, through the dim, twilight woods.
She could have walked for one minute, or twenty or years before she glimpsed the silvery light - there was no way of judging time amidst these stately trees. The light shone between them, flickering like a pale candle. Rhachsell ran towards it, grateful for some sign of life in this mysterious place.
The light was coming from the water in a small basin on a carved stone pedestal, shaped like a branching tree. The basin itself was made of silver but the pedestal could have been made of stone or silver or mithril or anything, for it blended into the twilight, at times seeming almost to vanish entirely, leaving the silver basin floating on air.
Rhachsell approached it cautiously, the light playing over her face as she leaned over to look in the water. She cast no reflection - there was only stars, a thousand pinpricks of light glimmering in the depths. Curious she put out a hand, intending to see it there were actually small specks of gold in the basin because when she glanced up there was only the branching canopy high overhead - no stars were visible.
"Do not touch the water," a deep, musical voice warned. From the shadows stepped a tall elf-lady in white, her golden hair falling to her waist in a shining cascade. Rhachsell swallowed, stepping away from the basin.
"Where am I?"
"You are beside a small pond in Rohan, asleep beside your dragon- mate." The lady smiled as she crouched so she could look at Rhachsell better. "I am in my kingdom of the Golden Woods, Lothlórien. Yet we speak."
Rhachsell trembled. This must be Galadriel, the Lady of Lórien, ancient and wise. It took her a moment to find her voice again.
"Why- why are we speaking? Am I dreaming, or... something.." Her voice trailed away in confusion and Galadriel's smile deepened as she held out a slender white hand.
"I have brought you here while you walked the world of dreams, to show you something. Will you look into my Mirror?"
"Your. Mirror?" Rhachsell glanced over at the basin - she had heard tales of it from her father. She wasn't sure if she wanted to see what it could show her. "Should I?"
"I would not have brought you here otherwise."
With a deep breath, the half-elf nodded. "I will look." She slid a small, battered hand into the smooth pale one and let herself be led back to the silver basin. Galadriel breathed on the water which rippled faintly, then cleared. The stars were gone, leaving only deep blackness.
With a final, silent prayer to anyone who might be listening, Rhachsell stepped forward and leaned over the water. Galadriel laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Do no touch the water," she warned again, softly. Rhachsell nodded and turned to look.
At once the Mirror cleared, a landscape taking shape in the still water - an endless rolling sea of sand, glowing deep orange in the setting sun. Before Rhachsell could wonder, the dunes dissolved and reformed into a forest. A unicorn shaped of starlight walked along a sandy path. Beside the half-elf, Galadriel stiffened at this, eyes widening a fraction but the picture was gone again, changing to a cave. A fire flickered, casting shadows and a golden glow over Rhachsell's face then a tall man entered the image, with skin as dark as night and covered with even darker tattoos. He knelt to stoke the fire then turned abruptly and seemed to be staring right out the water at Rhachsell. She gasped and would have pulled away if not for Galadriel's reassuring hand on her shoulder.
The man was gone and now the pictures were coming faster, only the barest flickers. Rhachsell glimpsed a black city amidst sand dunes, a leafy oasis reflecting a sky filled with stars and a lone horse galloping across the night-dark desert. Just as the rapid play of pictures was making her dizzy one image formed and stayed.
A huge white tower, surrounded by roaring waves, reaching it seemed to the sun. From the very top shone a light brighter than any flame, which made Rhachsell flinch away, squinting. With an abruptness that was startling the light vanished but the tower remained for a moment longer until a long crack snaked up the side. Chunks of white stone rained down into the sea, creating massive waves and immense plumes of spray. Then the tower cracked, all the way across and the top half fell, almost in slow motion to hit the sea with a crash that was nearly audible. Rhachsell flinched away as spray splashed her face; when she licked it from her lips, it was salty.
The picture changed again, still the tower, but this time it was in ruins, battered, only a few ragged spires reaching above the sea surface. The grime of ages had turned the white stone black, the furious sea had gouged huge gashes in the one carved sides, but the remains of the towers were still, defiantly, standing.
The Mirror went dark without warning and Rhachsell stumbled back, almost falling until Galadriel caught her. Dazed and confused, the half-elf looked up into a pair of dazzlingly blue eyes.
"What does it mean?" she whispered. "I don't- I don't understand!"
"You will." Galadriel leaned down to kiss her forehead, cool lips against rough skin. "Sleep now little one and when you wake, all will become clear. My blessings go with you."
Rhachsell felt her eyes drifting shut and tried desperately to force them open again. "But I need to know- how- where?!"
"You will know." Galadriel's musical voice followed her down as she fell into the dark depths of sleep.
~
