Hey hey! I got five reviews that chapter! I'm so excited! *giggles* Pathetic, but there you go. The next chapter rolls around the bend and into your rooms to entertain and astonish. At least, I hope that's the effect that is accomplished.

In case any of you are actually wondering how long this story is, I'm gonna tell you. It has fifteen chapters. I've known this since before I started posting; please forgive me for not informing you sooner. It's a gotta-leave-you-in-suspense-thing, and I decided to change my mind concerning that particular detail.

Tori: Oh thank you! I'm glad you enjoy it so much. I have to wonder if you'll feel the same way after reading the next...eight chapters. *blinks thoughtfully* Badies, in my opinion, are always interesting to write. You never know how they will turn out. My own groupies? Lol. Ooh. *chuckles*I don't know about that, but I thank you for your optimism. Welcome to Limbo, where you can see but not touch.

Bumper: Hey! I'm glad you're glad. Really glad, since I like knowing people actually enjoy what I write. It adds a whole knew level of pleasure and satisfaction. The ones responsible...is actually an interesting subject. You may or may not, and I'm gonna guess not, but satisfied with the answer you receive here. But an answer, you will receive.

Bill the Pony: Oh no! How terrible! *pauses, unsure of level of seriousness* Glad it's recovered enough to allow you to enjoy my story. Really glad. I'm constantly afraid, I'm going to get to a chapter and nobody's going to like it and everybody's gonna leave. *looks thoughtful* Maybe that's why I put Aragorn through--*coughs* Well, you'll see.

NaughtNat: The oddest thing: I got on and looked at my reviews. Lo and behold! I had 13 instead of 12, and the first thought that popped into my head--I bet it's NaughtNat. Lol. I'm serious. Glad the idea of a sequel with Leggy strikes your fancy. I'm currently working on chapter 13, and it's not quite cooperating. *smiles* Yes, rangers: get their butts kicked and come back for more. Lol.

Tereza: Hello! I'm so glad you approve! I aim to please. *thinks back to the chapters that are undergoing slight changes* Really. *g* lol. I'm glad you like the descriptions. I'm always afraid I'm gonna go into too much detail. I'm so excited. *dances a litte* lol.

Well, well, and onto the next chapter. I hope I didn't forget anything in my revisions. Oh, lol, you guys are so lucky: I'm posting it a whole two--three . . . Four?--hours early. Lol.

Enjoy!

Disaster Strikes

Kelt turned and headed further up the mountains away from where she had seen the twin sons of Elrond disappear to, circling around subtly so as not to betray her presence to the ranger, Strider.

As she walked, she failed to note the particular beauty of the day, the crumbling landscape under her--at least not any more than was required to keep from taking a trip similar to the human's--nor the slight breeze that was blowing long strands of her slightly disheveled hair into her face. The Slyntari was too busy berating herself to have any mind to worry about such details. Why in all of Arda had she told the Ranger her given name, her elven name? Of all the stupid things she could have done, that was truly one of the most foolish.

Why didn't I just kill him when I had the chance?

She turned her attention to what was going on behind her when she caught the sounds of more rocks skittering down the sides to lower altitudes, the shower of rocks creating enough noise to echo vaguely through the landscape.

The young woman frowned and was tempted to tell the man to be more careful 'less he bring the enemy down on top of them but bit her tongue. If she did that, she would be admitting to the presence of an enemy that was not orcs, and that was forbidden among the Slyntari, punishable by death. No one outside of the group could know of their existence. There were still those in Middle-earth who would know the significance of their presence and they could not risk being discovered, their plans thwarted.

Not that Kelt had any real fear that such discovery would do anything. Men were weak and of no true concern to them, except in large numbers. Dwarves were even less concern than men. Then there were the elves, but the elves did not concern themselves with the affairs of men. No love was lost between the different races, though some habitually got along with each other better than others.

Despite the skittering, though, nothing changed, and the ranger seemed to have kept his balance. Satisfied that the human was not about to take yet another plunge down the cliff-side, she returned to her attention before her, only to have it drawn back again.

"Where are we going?" Strider asked.

I should just kill him now, she thought. "To a safe place," she said instead. "You can eat and rest there." Kelt offered no more.

It was harder than she had thought it would be to play with this one. There was something about him, or something in her, that kept begging for the truth to be spoken--the whole truth. It confused and irritated her, forcing her to pay attention to every word out of her mouth lest she reveal information that should not be spoken. Damn the NĂșmenorean blood. She would be pleased to wipe out the last remnants of that ancient people. They were a plague upon Middle-earth.

"Do you live here alone?"

"Does it matter?" she replied, perhaps a bit harsher than she should have, for the young woman realized as soon as the words left her mouth that they would only pique this one's interest. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in a bid for calm, and managed to at least partially attain it. She waited to see what response the Ranger would give.

"It may," was the quiet reply. "I find it sad to think of one so young alone in these unforgiving mountains."

He lies, part of her hissed vehemently while the other wavered dangerously. The result was that Kelt nearly lost her balance. She frowned. Pay attention, you dolt. If you mess this up, it won't matter if he lies. You'll be dead. A small smile over her shoulder in apology and she continued on. The quiet, cautious footsteps of the other followed her up the slope.

When she offered no further comments, the Ranger seemed to decide to hold his silence. This decision confused her, but she did not question it, deciding that some things were best left unquestioned. She had him; now all she had to do was kill him. As soon as they reached her chosen destination, the Ranger was a dead man. She would tolerate no further delays to her plans.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan looked up quickly from a rock formation he had been studying. He took in the clear blue sky and westering sun, the clear air and mild temperatures, and narrowed his eyes. Nothing had stirred since they had entered this part of Middle-earth, yet it somehow seemed quieter now than when they had arrived.

The elder twin stepped away from the base of the mountains and glanced to the north in the direction his two brothers had traveled. No signs of distress caught his eyes and he reluctantly went back to his investigations, searching diligently for any sign of any creature which might have passed by recently.

Gradually, and without his knowledge, he was heading further south.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The silence of the mountains was nearly complete, broken only on occasion by the odd skittering rock that quickly and without undue hesitation made its way to the bottom of the inclines that stretched high above towards the clear sky. Any creatures that had remained in the Ettenmoors near the mountains had long since gone quiet, recognizing all too well the darkness that was pressing in upon the mountains.

The only movement to be caught upon the mountains' peaks were lithe and slippery shadows that seemed to waver in the bright light from the sun. Inconsistent and insubstantial, they flickered in an out of existence as they converged on a certain point in the northern mountains; the world held its breath.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aragorn stopped suddenly, an odd feeling tingling up from the base of his spine and causing him to shudder helplessly, like a chill wind had blown or a cold finger had traced its way up his spine. He glanced back and focused intently on his surroundings, hoping to find the cause for his unease.

The ranger was almost positive he was being watched, and he wondered what it was that could possibly be watching him. He shook his head slightly, attempting to clear it. There's no one out here but yourself, your brothers and the girl, he tried to tell himself.

Still, the feeling persisted, and he had long grown used to trusting his instincts. He was slightly startled when he felt Kalyamuina suddenly appear at his elbow, her own form tense. "What's wrong?" she murmured.

He glanced at her and caught her intense, sharp gaze, receiving an uncomfortable feeling that she could see straight through him. For some reason, some thing told him to be honest with her, though he could find no real reason why that should be strange. "I feel like someone is watching us," he replied quietly, and just barely caught the extra sharp look that was momentarily directed at him in surprise before it vanished as quickly as it had come.

"Nonsense," she denied. "No one is here. Who could be watching?" She frowned into the distance, whether she found something odd or not he could not tell, but he did not have the chance to think about it for she had grabbed his arm and proceeded to pull him further away. "All will be well, but we should keep moving. You could probably use something to eat, after all."

Somewhat confused, the DĂșnadan followed reluctantly behind the young woman he did not understand. She was a conundrum he could not even begin to puzzle out, a situation not helped at all by the fact that she was unwilling to talk. He narrowed his eyes as he followed her retreating form, puzzling out what he knew.

He knew she had denied any suggestion of other beings occupying any region of the Ettenmoors, even though he knew orcs had been here not so long ago. He knew she had startled at his pronouncement that they were being watched. He knew that she had appeared at an opportune time, and that contrary to the caution his mind intimated, his heart and instincts were telling him to trust her. He was also fairly certain she was troubled.

When he had first seen her, Kalyamuina's walk had been old-fashioned, somewhat jerky, as one accustomed to picking their way across uneven terrain while carrying a weighted load, like a basket. Now, though, she moved almost as a warrior, with a peculiar, lethally smooth gait that was easily recognized by any other trained to fight or knowledgeable in the craft. Also, every so often he would catch a note of forced levity in her tone, as if she really desired to be anything but cheerful.

Aragorn did not understand it at all; if his mind and common sense screamed at him with everything it had that she was false, dangerous, why were his instincts so driven on telling him to trust her? He had met enough people over the years to know that many were not always what they seemed, and he had become a fairly good judge of character over the lengthy years of his chosen exile, yet he could place no definite loyalty on this girl, no hint of who she was.

The Ranger's train of thought was broken when the youth suddenly stopped before a fairly deep hollow in the mountain side which provided fair shelter while the snows had fled for the warmer months, but that would provide little protection in the face of the blizzards which regularly swept through the area.

Kalyamuina stopped just outside the hollow and turned to face him, her hands clasped before her. "Is there anything you would like me to get you? Some tea, perhaps."

"Tea would be much appreciated," he agreed, somewhat warily. He crept forward and idly watched her make the brew. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he watched because he was wary of poison, though he caught no sign of any unwarranted additions during his rather unprofessional watch. The quiet process, however, seemed to put the both of them very much at ease, and the tension that had built in Aragorn at the feeling of being watched melted partially away.

Carefully, he moved his sword out of the way and lowered himself to the ground, wincing as he did so, and hoped Kalyamuina had not noticed; he did not care to be fussed over, and he had a feeling she may. But there was no halt in the other's preparations, so he assumed the moment of weakness had not betrayed him in any way.

His mind drifted back to the last time he had been in a cave even as his gaze drifted out over the Ettenmoors that spread before him from his perch. He sighed quietly.

Then was startled when a mug was suddenly placed in his hands. Startled gray eyes turned to fix on the young woman by his side, and found her once again pouring the hot, colored liquid into a cup. Somehow, he had missed the completion of the tea. He frowned briefly as he wondered if the drink was safe, or if this strange female might have doctored it.

Deciding he was being paranoid, he took a sip, then leaned his head back against the stone wall behind him as the heat traveled down his throat and settled in his stomach before continuing on to suffuse his stomach with a warm glow. Moments later he felt some of the pain from stiff and abused muscles ease and realized she had indeed added something to his drink: a pain relieving herb.

One corner of his mouth quirked; so she had seen his discomfort. That, or she had simply assumed he would be in pain after his fall, an assumption that was obviously not wrong. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

Then something strange caught his attention and he frowned. It was a smell, but a smell he could not place, just barely carried to him by the wind. Somehow, though, he felt it was a smell that should not be present.

"Do you smell any thing?" he questioned his new companion.

Bright blue eyes turned to study him critically. "Smell what?"

He shook his head briefly. "I'm not sure."

The girl frowned at him before closing her and tilting her head, her shoulders rising and falling slowly as her breathing deepened. He was struck by the feeling that this was something she had done before, locating scents on a breeze, but then the feeling was gone and he could not imagine why he had felt it.

Slowly, the blue orbs opened to once again focus on him; undeniable, unreadable emotion hidden in their depths, though he just barely caught a hint of confusion also before it was firmly chased aside. "I smell something," she agreed after a moment. "But I would not venture a guess as to what. Likely it is not anywhere near us." Yet something in her stance denied those simple words.

Again the ranger wondered what this young one was hiding, why she could not simply tell him the truth. It was frustrating him more than he would admit even to himself that he could not tell if trusting her was not going to be more dangerous than anything else he had ever done. Nothing leant itself to the argument of trust for this strange being; nothing, that is, save his instincts.

Forcefully, he bit back a sigh and watched her closely.

Almost immediately, her gaze flickered back to meet his own, and was just as quickly averted. "Why do you stay here," he asked after a few moments, "if you are the only one who remains?"

Her attention returned to him--if, indeed, it had ever strayed from him. To the ranger, however, it appeared as though she was not looking at him, but through him. 'Twas an odd feeling to think that when she had not been looking at him she had been watching him, but now that she was looking at him she was not seeing him. That haunted look he had noted earlier returned to her eyes, clouding them briefly. He wondered what it meant.

She answered slowly, as if she had never given thought to her motives before. "Sometimes . . . sometimes we are not the ones who choose our path but instead follow the one laid out before us. And sometimes that path leads down lonely trails. My path comes here. And, for the moment at least, here is where it remains."

"Such wisdom for one so young," he murmured with a hint of a smile. The words touched his own heart, whispering truth and wrapping about his mind. He knew that had Elrond heard those words, or even Elladan or Elrohir or Legolas, they would have claimed that they also held true for him, for anyone. Even he had to admit to the truth that echoed through the sentiment. "Fortitude also. It will serve you well, I think."

The briefest of smiles touched her lips before fleeing. "And you, Strider? Why came you here?"

"I seek someone," he replied.

"Someone you know?" she questioned, then took a sip of her own tea, vibrant eyes watching him over the rim of the cup.

"No," he chuckled. "I think not.

"How will you know you have found this person?"

He was mildly surprised she had not asked who he was seeking, not that it would have done her any good; he still did not know himself. "I will know," was the only reply he gave.

She snorted. "Yes, of course you will know." Shrewd eyes were leveled at him. "Twould be unpardonable for a Ranger to mistake so important a factor as the arrival of his quarry."

"You know of the Rangers?" he asked, interested in what this one might know of those ancient people which were generally regarded with much fear among the other members of his race, and which he was a part of.

"I know they are not to be feared as some seem to think," she responded, her eyes widening ever so slightly as if in surprise. "Unless, that is, you get on their bad side, and then you would do well to steer clear of them."

He laughed. "I suppose you could view it that way."

"Could you tell me more of them?"

"I could," he answered wryly, a touch of old playfulness sparked inside him.

Mischief briefly touched the other's gaze. "That is well," she responded, deadpan, "for it would not speak well of the people if their own could not tell of themselves." With that said, the young woman jumped up and walked to the cliff's edge, looking out upon the lands surrounding them. More slowly, he followed her, taking in his surroundings once again.

Carefully, she picked her way across some of the rockier outcroppings before coming to stand on a stone ledge that greatly resembled a pedestal. Again, he followed the slight form and joined her looking out.

Without turning to acknowledge his presence, she spoke. "When you look out, what do you see?"

His gaze scanned the horizon before he spoke, his hand unconsciously coming to rest on the hilt of his sword. Had he been aware of it, had she turned to look, she would have seen how very kingly he looked, but she did not, and no one saw.

"I see life, flowing, continuing, enduring. It reminds me that even when there is death, the world goes on. Somehow, that makes the darkness easier to bear, because when the light of life flees one's soul, it is picked up and born on by another." He glanced at her. "What do you see?"

"Life, too," she admitted. "But it is a world I cannot touch, distant, forever beyond my reach, even as it continues on beyond my sight." She turned and looked at him. "I see beauty and hope, and it is easier to continue, even if I am not the one to experience such things. It is enough to know they are there, waiting, if one would but make the effort to reach them."

He nodded, and though sadness touched his heart at the words, his attention had been grabbed by something else. His keen gaze swept the formations around him, looking for what could have caused his unease to return with a vengeance.

He found nothing and turned to face the one before him. If Kalyamuina felt anything, she gave no sign. Her eyes were still distant, her posture slightly slumped, as if the very words of hope she had spoken had no hold over her, and her hand idly played with a length of her tunic. To his eyes, she looked tired, no longer young, but old; older than anyone her age should ever look.

Along with his renewed unease also came the reawakened feeling of being watched. He listened closely, trying to hear what his eyes would not see. He could hear his companion's breathing, slow and quiet, and the whistle of the wind over rock, but he could find no other trace through the air of another living being.

Despite this, suddenly all he wanted to do was to get away. They needed to leave this place. He was sure of it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Shirk smiled grimly as he crouched behind a boulder, watching the young woman who was a member of his group. He could tell she was unaware of his presence, unaware of the presence of anyone, for he recognized the look that graced her nearly flawless features. Too often she became absorbed in her own thoughts to the detriment of everything else. It was a folly she could not afford, not and not pay the price.

He turned his attention to the one who stood beside her, noting the other's nervous glances to his surroundings. This one knew something and he frowned. Something was familiar about him, but he refused to be distracted as his subordinate had. Whether she was paying attention or not, Kelt should have noted his restless movements at least. Obviously, she needed a bigger wake up call than he had originally thought.

Moving slowly so as not to gain the attention of the excited man standing just out of view, the Slyntari removed a vial of yellowish liquid. He removed the lid and poured a generous dose of it over the head of the arrow he had removed from his quiver. The poison coated its glistening tip and created a different kind of shine, one that soon vanished as the tip seemed to absorb the substance he had added. No one would know to look at it that the arrow had been poisoned.

The smile returned to the twisted face of the tall man. Ice blue eyes fixed on the young woman who beheld so much without even seeing it. She would learn her place, and the poison would help. That one knew what if could do, and she would recognize its bite. It had helped to tame her before; a second dose could only help.

Carefully, the Slyntari notched the arrow and took aim, moving out from the shelter of the boulder just enough to gain a clear shot at his intended victim. He pulled the string back and waited for just the right moment.

He watched as she turned to face the human, her expression lost to his view. If the human turned his head about an inch, he would be looking straight at the Slyntari, but Shirk was not worried. The human was no concern of his, not yet. That one would be dealt with after Kelt had received her punishment. He released the arrow, only to feel surprise course through his veins when the human dodged around the youth and took the arrow in his own chest, shoving her out of the way. Surprise danced quickly over her features and momentarily froze her to her spot.

Furious, he pulled another arrow and aimed it this time at the man. The other shot had not been lethal, and the poison would not kill him either. He had changed his mind. He would kill the human, then teach the careless girl.

Quickly, he released this arrow as well.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kelt turned just in time to watch the arrow intended for her strike Strider in the chest and knock him back a little more than a step. Shock locked her in place. Why had he done that? Just as quickly, though, she realized the danger was far from over.

Her quick eyes caught sight of movement and she identified Shirk as the one who had shot the arrow. Fury followed quickly on the heels of surprise as thoughts of the human were momentarily erased from her mind.

He had followed her. He had thought to shoot her. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, her expression full of a fury that had sent many a servant of Sauron skittering for cover.

She saw the second arrow Shirk pulled, and tracked its intended target. She knew immediately that the other was shooting to kill. Without conscious thought, she moved up close behind the other and pulled him away, pressing both of them up against a boulder and away from Shirk's line of fire. The arrow he had released missed them by barely two feet.

She frowned, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that he would not be the only one here. There would be at least one more, far from his position, ready to act upon their leader's failure. It frustrated her that she could not find whoever was with Shirk, and bothered her more than she cared to admit.

The young woman turned to gaze into the eyes of the one who had pushed her out of the way. His silver eyes were glazed with pain yet still aware. Her ire pushed itself to the forefront and she snapped at him, part of her fury leaking out in her words.

"You fool!" she hissed. "You stupid fool! What were you thinking?"

He blinked twice, then murmured, "They would have shot you."

"Not to kill," she shot back. "I was safer than you, for they will not kill me. You just took my punishment, Ranger, and now you've marked yourself a dead man." She turned back to her surroundings. She would not be careless twice.

Again, she just barely caught the small movement and glint of an arrowhead, her highly trained gaze marking its path and again moving them out of its way just before it could strike them. She pulled Strider along one of the mountain paths, intent on getting away with her new charge and protecting him from her fellows' anger, though she could not determine why she should care. Things were moving too quickly, though, and she had not the time to question.

Too late, she realized the danger of her chosen path. Too far upon it to turn back, she had barely enough time to glance at the human before the ground opened up beneath them and sent them tumbling down into dark depths that seemed to stretch on endlessly below.

Strider was torn from her grasp as they fell, stones chasing them down with some managing to overtake them, and her stomach leaped into her throat. A gasp was torn from her throat as the brush of their passage screamed past.

She blinked, wondering how far down the darkness reached, wondering how long before their journey ended, and how long before they were caught by her people. She wondered briefly what they would do when they could no longer evade capture and whether or not this fall would kill them and save the remaining Slyntari the trouble. She wondered, too, why she had bothered to save the human. A thought crossing her mind that she would have done better to simply let Shirk kill him. Likely it would have been less painful. Then she questioned why she should care if it was less painful.

Her brow furrowed in agitation as thoughts and counter-thoughts raced through her head. Breifly her gaze caught cloth falling near her and knew it to be the ranger.

Then she wondered no more. Solid rock collided with her hurtling form and drove the wind from her body, even as that same form collided with her head and sent sparks of light arcing across her vision though she felt no pain. A moment later, she felt nothing. The darkness of unconsciousness had claimed her, and she no longer had a care for anything.