Chapter Six: Above All Men

They traveled fast, southwest, through the woods, across plains, and finally began climbing into the hills that rolled up and broke upon the great mountains like waves. It was the start of their fourth night on the trail, and they had ridden under moon and sun. There was no time for rest, for all three sensed their pursuers gained rapidly, and twice now they had been forced to defend themselves against small parties of orcs, who had come at the sound of the trumpets to stand in their road.

Their only hope lay in the highlands, where the servants of Sauron could not track them over rock. It was land unknown to Aragorn, Arwen, and Legolas, but the enemy was pushing them hard into it, and there was no choice but to keep going forward. The host behind them was too great to risk turning back and trying to find more familiar roads.

They were all weary. Aragorn realized that soon his man's strength would fail him. He felt his mind straying toward sleep, and several times his fingers had loosened until he almost lost his reins. Arwen's arms grew weaker around his middle, her cheek rested heavily against his shoulder blades. Legolas' head seemed to drop lower with each passing hour. None of them had taken any rest since Arwen had been taken, and very soon the limits of physical and mental exhaustion would drag them all down from their saddles.

The black horses had run with great heart in their new freedom, but now they grew weary and stumbled often, and to push them much further would be the death of them.

Still, they had to keep riding, looking for some place to pass the daylight in safety. Though the orcs would not give chase under the sun, there were still the wild men of the South, and those of the East, to worry about. The Haradrim, or Southrons as they were called by most, whom Sauron had been grooming as his own slaves, moved tirelessly, maddened by fear of their master and their own lust for blood.

Aragorn knew something of these men, had seen what they were capable of. Long had they been enemies to Gondor, indeed to all free peoples. They were skilled in torture and they were murderers who enjoyed their trade, and should they lay hands upon Arwen, he doubted seriously she would live to see Mordor. Even fear of the Dark Lord would not save her from harm, for they enjoyed nothing more than the destruction of things beautiful and pure. He didn't think Arwen would wish to live after an hour in their company.

*

They reached the mountains, where the ascent became more perilous and the horses more weary and unsure of their steps. Finally, Legolas and Aragorn made the decision to continue on foot, to take paths that no horse might climb.

Arwen couldn't help noticing that Aragorn's arms trembled with weakness as he helped her down from the back of the horse, and that his fingers shook as he unbuckled the animal's bridle and uncinched his saddle. Though she and Legolas could have perhaps kept on for another day, she saw that Aragorn could not, though he would have died at their feet before saying so.

She looked to Legolas, and saw that he also took in the state of the young man. Instead of scorn, though, her friend was looking at Aragorn with concern and perhaps a little admiration.

"If you can find it in you, old friend," Aragorn told his mount, heedless of the poignant look that Legolas and Arwen exchanged behind his back, "run for Rohan where you will be given welcome and respect. And perhaps draw some of our enemy away with your tracks as well."

He stroked the horse as Legolas bid goodbye to his own mount, and the stallions tossed their dark heads and stood together as their liberators started up the mountainside. They then turned and fled with purpose, galloping back down the trail they'd come, as black and shift as shadows.

"Will they fall into their old ways?" Aragorn asked breathlessly. "Will they return to Mordor?"

Arwen shook her head, eyes shining in the moonlight when she glanced over at him. "Would any slave willingly return for torture when the air of freedom has entered his lungs? They will run for Rohan and die before letting the enemy catch them again."

"We must find shelter soon," Legolas called from a few paces ahead of Aragorn and Arwen. "We all must have some rest."

Arwen smiled a little, surprised and pleased that Legolas had spared Aragorn his dignity by acknowledging his own need for a stop to the running.

Aragorn sighed in relief. "Let's move to high ground and find a camp with a position where we can look out. We need to see the enemy coming, for we cannot fight them. If they follow us here, they must be on foot as well, but we are not likely to outrun them. There is only hope in secrecy."

Legolas and Arwen followed Aragorn up steep and dangerous paths through rocks and trees, pushing past the very limits of the man's capacity as the elves neared their own limits. They were all faltering when they broke from the tree line. At last, as the sky gave over to steel gray streaks in the east, they came to a wide shelf of solid rock. It looked over miles and miles of Middle-Earth. The valleys below still lay in night, like black cradles held by mountains on all sides, broken only by the faint glimmering of lanterns in the towns and lonely outposts.

Arwen felt as if she'd left Middle Earth to sail above it.

The rocky plateau backed against a steep cliff face and there, mercifully, they found a small cave in the mountainside, its mouth shielded by several fallen boulders. The entrance was just wide enough for them to squeeze into one by one, and it would leave them out of the sight of their enemy. It was much better than any of them had hoped to find.

They had but one blanket, which they lay upon the hard stone floor of the cave. They ate lembas from Legolas' pack and drank the clear water of a nearby stream. Legolas volunteered to take the first watch, and though on another day Aragorn might have argued with him, or at least made the same offer, he was simply too weary.

Legolas stepped from the cave and Aragorn and Arwen were alone within it. For a moment there was a sort of awkward silence between them, for they had not been free of Legolas' speculative eyes for days, and all their conversations, when there had been time or energy for words, had been guarded.

Aragorn smiled, for he could just make out her silhouette, dark gray against the darker walls of the cave.

"You look very well, to be on the run from Mordor," he whispered, and because he had for so many days longed for the touch of her again, his hand extended across the darkness, found the cool smoothness of her cheek, and he rose to kiss her briefly.

Her lips curved beneath his in a smile. "How can you tell how I look? You do not have elf-eyes, Estel. You can see nothing in here. Admit it."

"Yes. But your shadow is very lovely," he replied, perhaps sheepishly.

"You are out of your head with weariness, Ranger. I am dirty and tired. And you, however dear, look exactly as if you have been running for many days with Mordor at your heels. Sleep now."

She kissed him again, and then pushed him gently, forcing him down onto the blanket. He willingly collapsed, and then sighed as she moved to lay flush at his side, her head upon his shoulder and her hand stretching across his chest, fingers curling over his heart.

It gave him a little start, how naturally she fit there, as if he'd been carved just so she would match him precisely. It gave him such comfort, and made him feel whole, and he wondered how he'd ever passed a night peacefully without her. Somehow, he was aware he'd never be easy without her in the night again.

"What will you say to the other elf, if he sees us so?" Aragorn wondered, though he stretched his own arm beneath her head to pillow it, and brought his other hand to cover the one she rested on his chest. He couldn't care at the moment what Legolas might say.

"That it was the cold that drove us together."

"The elves do not feel the cold," Aragorn reminded her.

He felt as much as heard the smile in her words. "No. I will tell him you were chilled, not I."

She felt the rumble of his laugh below her ear even before it escaped into the darkness, softly. "The elf is already convinced I am of no use at all. This shall seal my fate with him."

She laughed too, nuzzled closer to him so that her forehead was just below his cheek. He turned his face into her hair for a moment, wanting so much more, knowing he could not take it. Not yet. It was the greatest test of his will he'd known.

"You are wrong, you know. I have known that other elf for most of my life. Legolas holds you in high regard, and it startles him that he does so. He did not expect to find respect for a man. It confuses him, and he is not used to feeling uncertain about things. You have thrown his balance."

Aragorn smiled, found it so easy to do when she was near, touching him. "Well, he may revise his opinions when he sees me clinging to you for warmth."

"Ah, but I said that is the excuse we would give him, Estel. Not that he would believe it. Legolas is no fool, after all. Well, a great majority of the time he is not. He has his moments."

*

Aragorn felt as if he'd been sleeping for days and days when at last he slowly became aware that the ground below was not a bed, but solid rock. His whole body felt sore and unstretched, as if he'd slept very long and hard without moving.


Arwen was still curled to him, resting peacefully. He wondered at how refreshed he felt, wondered if it was having her so close that had made him completely give himself to oblivion, or if it was simply the hard search for her coupled with the long days of fleeing.

The crimson glow of sunset was streaming into the cave, and she was creature of twilight at the moment, not of moon. Her skin was bathed in golden and pink rays, long lashes lay upon her cheek, casting cool shadows on her glowing skin. Her fingers were tangled trustingly in his own, and on her mouth was a curve that was almost a smile. He watched her and his heart swelled, beating against the front of his chest. Would he ever grow tired of looking at her? He doubted it.

She woke briefly as he slid from beneath her hand and eased her head down upon his cloak instead. "Sleep a bit yet," he whispered, brushing a long strand of midnight hair away from her cheek. She smiled sweetly in response and lowered her eyelashes again.

He stretched, once outside the cave and looked around, finding Legolas standing on the rocks above the cave's mouth, eyes relentlessly searching the landscape.

"You should have awakened me sooner. I have slept for more hours than my share," Aragorn called softly to him, taking a place on one of the lower rocks and looking out over the land companionably.

"It has been quiet. You had more need of rest than I," Legolas replied with honesty.

"I did, but I have had it now. This is the safest place we will find, " Aragorn told Legolas, who nodded in agreement. "We can spare a few more hours for you. I'll wake you when the moon is high. Rest now. You've earned it."

The fact that Legolas issued no protest at all told Aragorn just how in need of the time he must be, even more than the slowness of his movement when he climbed down. The elf nodded his thanks as he passed Aragorn and disappeared into the cave.

Alone, Aragorn's gaze cut quickly to the West, and there he met what he had known was there all along. The realm of Gondor. He'd never seen Minas Tirith that he could remember, although perhaps he'd passed through it as a young child, before he could recall. He looked carefully around for any sign of danger, and then left the cave to walk across the flat field of rock and stand at the precipice, looking at the world of men below.

For the first time in his life, he faced the path that was his, and wondered if he had the strength to journey it.

*

Some time after Aragorn had left her, Arwen stirred and awakened to find that Legolas now lay nearby, resting deeply. He seemed aglow in the setting sunlight that found its way into the cave and for a moment, she could not help but smile and watch him. He was of such fine, noble features and fair appearance, that she did not wonder why he was the gleam in many an elf maiden's eye when he was about. Arwen had never been able to deny the beauty of Legolas, but nor had she been able to deny that it did not tempt her as it did some. Perhaps it was because they had played together so often as children, with her brothers, that he had simply become as dear as a brother to her. She was not sure, but she had always known that Legolas would never hold her heart in a way that Aragorn already did.

At one time, there had been hope in both their families of a marriage between Legolas and Arwen, and from Mirkwood, the desire had been so strong to see such a match made that Legolas had gone so far as to ask for her hand when they were both of an age to be wed. Arwen had always suspected it was more duty than anything that had pushed Legolas into asking, for though there was great fondness between the two of them, it was of a gentler, quieter sort than what she felt for Aragorn even at their first meeting. She had sensed both relief and bruised pride when she had politely declined the offer, though she had never really given him the reason why she did so.

Now she understood her reasons fully, and she feared that soon she would have to make him understand as well. As soon as possible, she decided. She did not look forward to it, and he was resting so peacefully that she left him to it and quietly went to find Aragorn.

****

To Be Continued…

Note: In the Fellowship movie, I enjoy the conversation between Boromir and Aragorn at Lothlorien. Boromir asks Aragorn if he's ever seen the white city, to which Aragorn replies, "long ago," or something similar to that. Though Aragorn did serve as a well-loved Captain to Ecthelion II, and likely went to him in the city, I decided that maybe this could be the first time Aragorn saw Minas Tirith, and the memory in his eyes when he answers Boromir.