The Heart of Men

by Nili

While wintering in Mirkwood, Aragorn and Legolas visit Laketown. Soon they find themselves thrown head first into chaos, suspicion and greed which threaten both their lives and the peace the new King of Dale has managed to uphold.

24. Sunrise

Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.


A/N:

*gives chapter evil looks* I swear I don't know how they do it. This chapter just refused to end, no matter what I did! That is simply not fair! Well, in the end I was forced to let it be, and here we are, with a chapter that's over 26 pages long! _26_, for crying out loud! Hmm, it might have been because I had this last paragraph stuck in my head and just HAD to end it like that and had to somehow get to that point - but no, it's all the characters' fault! If they would just shut up when I tell them to... *g*

Okay, I am a bit calmer now. Besides, I don't think that you object to long chapters, huh? Probably not. The only one who's objecting is me since it proves I have no control whatsoever over this plot... *shakes head sadly* Poor Nili.

I am very glad you all like the fact that Aragorn actually has a _plan_ for once, even though I have to admit that it's ... well, it's one of Aragorn's plans, that says everything, does it not? *evil grin* Poor little ranger and elf...


Very well, without further ramblings I give you chapter 24! Yay Nili! It's a monster chapter with a mind of its own, but hey... *shrugs* Okay, what do we have ... Aragorn and Legolas have a little philosophical 'discussion', we find out if Aragorn's and Legolas' plan is working or not, Legolas meets some old friends, _we_ meet lots of new friends, and to top off everything nicely we have a cliffy! Yay Nili again! *evil grin*

Have fun and review, please!

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Chapter 24


The darkness of the pre-dawn hours surrounded the two figures that slowly moved through the wooded area, their movements slow and stealthy. If one looked closely enough though, it was clearly visible that neither of the two was well, judging by the somewhat jerky and stiff way their bodies moved.

One of the two, an elf with blonde hair and a rather bruised face, turned slowly to his dark haired, equally bruised companion, the slowness of the movement betraying the weariness he felt.
"Let us rest here for a few minutes, Aragorn. I can already hear the men in the camp, and we both need the rest before we get there."

The young ranger looked at the elf, eyes that were far too bright gleaming in the moonlight.
"But we…"

"No," the elven prince shook his head. "You need rest. I need rest. Ten minutes will hardly matter."

Aragorn narrowed his eyes but complied after a few moments, his own body telling him insistently that sitting down was a very good idea. He plopped to the ground, not even bothering to mask the pain that movement brought. He had reached the point where he didn't care a long time ago; all that mattered now was to go on and reach Adruran's camp on time to carry out their plan. He grinned inwardly. Some (probably rather friendly) people would call their plan slightly desperate, others, for example his brothers, would call it foolhardy, stupid and far too risky.

It was the only plan they had, he shrugged inwardly, and until someone turned up with a contingent of friendly warriors that were just dying to help them, it was the best they had been able to come up with.

The younger ranger sat back against a fallen, snow covered log and closed his eyes, one arm wrapped protectively around his ribcage. It was at times like these that he longed to be an elf, to have their stamina, endurance and strength. Legolas was hurt worse than he was and yet he managed to go on, and he looked a lot better than he himself. Well, technically he didn't know what he was looking like, but considering the way he felt, namely in a lot of pain, thirsty, hungry, hot and distinctly weak, he assumed that he didn't look too good. He was probably in a state that would have caused his elven father to give him a fleeting glance, then give him the look and drag him off into the healing wing to drug him for the rest of the year.

'The healing wing … drugs … athelas … ada …'

A pang of homesickness and longing for his family swept through him, and for a moment he wished for nothing more than to wake up and find that this had all been a dream, a nightmare, nothing more.

Aragorn shook his head slowly. It hadn't been a nightmare, no, nightmares didn't tend to get people killed, and Celylith was dead. Guilt once again threatened to overcome his senses. Elbereth, it had all been his fault, if he hadn't insisted that they went to Erebor, none of this would have happened, and he wouldn't have to return to Mirkwood to explain to Celythramir that his only son, who had never been meant to leave Middle-Earth like this, was dead.

"Aragorn?" Legolas' soft voice interrupted this unpleasant train of thought, something for which the man was rather thankful.

The young human slowly opened his eyelids, for a moment suspecting that someone had placed leaden weights on them.
"Yes? Are we leaving again?"

Legolas, who sat a few feet away on a small boulder, looking as white as the snow around them, grimaced slightly.
"No, we are not. Are you alright?"

Aragorn gave the elf a rather forced smile.
"I think so, yes. I just wish we had something to drink."

The elven prince's frown deepened. That was a wish he shared whole-heartedly, especially considering how much blood both of them had lost. His own elven body could deal with the loss of the vitally important fluid better than Aragorn's, even though it would finally catch up with him as well. They both needed water, and soon.

"So do I, my friend, so do I. The camp isn't far now, we should be able to get something there."

Aragorn nodded slowly as he tried to ignore the pounding in his head as best as possible. His headache had got ever worse, something that he knew was connected to the blood loss, but that knowledge did little to help him ease the feeling that his brain was trying to force its way out of his head via his ears.

After a second of silence he raised his head and looked at the elf, his mind still on Celylith.
"Legolas?" he asked somewhat hesitantly.

The fair haired elf cocked his head slightly to the side, rather glad to concentrate on a conversation rather than on the pain in his body and what could possibly go wrong with their plan.
"Yes?"

"You have to promise me something," the ranger demanded seriously, silver eyes clinging to the other's face.

"What, my friend?" Legolas asked, narrowing his eyes a little bit suspiciously. If Aragorn thought he would stay behind, then he was sadly mistaken. There was no way the man could carry out their plan alone; in fact, he doubted that they would be able to carry it out together.

Aragorn bit down on his bottom lip, his bruised face pleading in the near darkness.
"Promise me that you won't go in there only thinking of revenge. Promise me to try to come back alive rather than avenge him at all cost. We are both not in the condition to fight them."

Legolas' face darkened before he quickly averted his eyes, fixing them on the snow at his feet as if there was something fascinating to discover there.
"I cannot promise you that, Estel. You know I can't."

"Yes, you can!" the man insisted, reaching out to grab his friend's good wrist. "You just do not want to, that's all! I understand your need for revenge, Valar, I want to kill them too, but Celylith is dead, Legolas, and your death will not bring him back!"

The elven prince wrenched his wrist out of the human's grasp and would have jumped to his feet had he not felt so wretched.
"No, I do not want to, you are right!" he exclaimed heatedly, blue eyes flashing in his face. "Celylith is dead, Aragorn, by their hands! I owe him to make sure he is avenged, I owe him that, no matter the cost!"

A strange shadow flickered across the man's face.
"Do you know who you sound like, Legolas?" he asked and grabbed the elf's arm again. "Do you? You sound like Cornallar! Have you already forgotten what his blind thirst for revenge brought in its wake? Revenge at all cost is never the answer, that is something you should know!"

Legolas just stared at the ranger's face, and for a second their surroundings seemed to blur and shift until they were back in that cave where he had found Aragorn these few months ago, barely alive and shying away from his touch because of what Cornallar and his men had done to him. His eyes travelled down to his friend's hand that still gripped his sleeve, and suddenly all tension seemed to drain out of his body.

"You are right," he whispered and closed his eyes, forcefully suppressing the cold shivers that raced across his back. Ilúvatar, he had been so quick to condemn the elf lord for letting himself be consumed by hate and need for revenge, and now he saw that it could happen far quicker and easier than he had thought. "You are right, Estel, I am sorry. Forgive me, I did not mean to…"

"It is alright," Aragorn's hand on his arm tightened a little. "I can imagine what you feel like."

Legolas didn't speak for a few seconds, pain and grief etched onto his face.

"I miss him," the fair haired elf admitted softly at last and looked at his human friend again. "I try to remember his face, what he looked like in life, and all I can see is his bloody body at the foot of that boulder." He fought down the tears that once again wanted to escape from his eyes. "All I can remember is that and the expression on his face when the arrow hit him. He looked so confused and surprised, as if he couldn't believe what was happening to him, as if he was hoping that all this was a nightmare he would wake up from any second." Legolas paused, staring vacantly into space. "But I cannot understand why he smiled. He smiled at me, Aragorn, and it was a real smile. I cannot forget that smile, it haunts my every waking moment."

After a few minutes the ranger broke the heavy silence that weighted on them after the elf's barely audible words, giving a small, sad smile of his own.

"I can understand it, my friend. Only too well." Legolas looked at him in mild surprise, and Aragorn continued, eyes bright and at the same time dark in his face. "He was glad, Legolas, glad that it was him and not you."

The elf looked at him in horrified disbelief, but he raised a hand to silence him.

"I know what he felt like. When we fished you out of the Long Lake and you were not breathing, I felt my heart break and fall to pieces, bit by bit the longer you didn't respond to the treatment. I know what Celylith felt like, for in that moment I wished for nothing more than to be in your place, to not be the one left behind to pick up the pieces." He paused for a moment. "I would have smiled as well."

"I would never have wanted him or you to give your lives for me!" Legolas exclaimed, silver-blue eyes wide in his bruised face. "You are – were - my best friends!"

Aragorn smiled slightly, sadness and grief stealing over his face.
"Aye," he nodded, "You were his prince, and that was something he never forgot. But he would have died for you, gladly and without a second thought. And," he added, studying his elven friend carefully, "one day I will leave the circles of this world and leave you too, Legolas. That is something neither of us can influence or change, and I daily thank Ilúvatar that it will be me who goes and not you, for I do not think that I could bear it."

The elf looked at him, bright tears gleaming in his eyes.
"What makes you think that I will be able to bear it? To lose both my best friends in the span of a few hundred years, what makes you think that I would want to live with that?"

"You are an elf," Aragorn simply stated. "The firstborn are stronger than we humans, both in body and in mind. You will leave for the Undying Lands and join your people, and a part of us will live on forever as long as you remember us. You are stronger than I could ever be, mellonamin."

Legolas shook his head and was about to speak up, but the ranger interrupted him before he had even formulated a single word.

"And because you are stronger than I am, I beg you to promise me, Legolas. Promise me to keep to the plan and seek your own escape. Do not pursue your revenge at the cost of your own life, please! Do not leave me here to pick up the pieces."

The elven prince bowed his head, pale golden hair falling forwards to conceal his bruised features. After a moment he nodded and reached out with his hand to grasp his human friend's.
"I promise. I do not know what the future will bring, but I promise you I will not go and look for them. But," he stopped, his eyes darkening even further, "but if I come across Geran or Hanar or any of them, I will kill them. That is something nobody can stop me from. Not even you."

"That is good enough for me, then," Aragorn nodded and gave him a small smile, squeezing the elf's hand slightly. "Shall we go on?"

Legolas inclined his head, and together they struggled to their feet, leaning against each other for support. The young man grinned at his companion, raising a mocking eyebrow to chase away the dark mood their conversation had conjured.
"A fine pair we make."

Legolas snorted, slowly letting go of the man's shoulder as he attempted to regain his balance.
"It is all your fault," he stated as they took up their stealthy walk once more. "Before I met you…

"…you never had any trouble, never got involved into anything surprising or dangerous and obeyed your father without question. Ha!" Aragorn retorted, running an unsteady hand over his flushed face. "I never believed that, and everything I have learned in the past few years has only reinforced that belief."

"I am hurt, ranger," Legolas shook his head in mock dismay. "You do not trust my word?"

Aragorn stopped shortly and gave the elven prince an incredulous look.
"No?"

Legolas muttered something undistinguishable under his breath, and the two of them continued their journey in amiable silence. A couple of minutes later they reached the outskirts of the small wood that encircled the men's camp on two sides, the dark, leafless trees contrasting sharply against the whiteness of the snow that gleamed slightly in the moonlight.

The two beings stopped, both of them knowing that it was time for them to separate, but both of them reluctant to do so. After a few heartbeats' pause Aragorn smiled thinly and unconsciously slung his arms around his middle to stave off the night's chill. Legolas had wanted to return the young man's cloak to him when they had left the cavern about an hour ago, but Aragorn would hear nothing of it. He stubbornly insisted that he was fine with only his shirt and that there was no way that he would allow Legolas to freeze when he himself had a cloak to spare. Besides, most of the time he felt much too hot anyway.

"This is it, then," he stated quietly and looked at his elven friend. "But I still say that the dwarves might come to aid us."

Legolas almost rolled his eyes, his trust and belief in the small folk's abilities apparently not nearly as great as the ranger's.
"They wouldn't know what happened to us, even if they would want to help us which I doubt in the first place. Nay, my friend, we are on our own."

Aragorn nodded his head reluctantly.
"It is as you say, I fear. Just remember your promise, my friend, and all will be well."

The fair haired elf merely raised a quizzical eyebrow at his friend's attempt at optimism, but nodded after a second, his face serious.
"I gave you my word, Estel, and I will keep it. But now you have to promise me something."

"Anything that does not include staying behind," Aragorn agreed quickly, looking at the other expectantly.

"Come back alive," Legolas simply said, locking eyes with the man. "While you are right and we will be separated, one day, I am not yet ready for it. Try to stay as low as possible and once you have finished your task, do not get back to the camp. I will find a way just as I promised you, but promise me to make for the rendezvous point and wait there for me. I will come, that is something I promise. Do not leave me here to pick up the pieces."

The young man smiled slightly, and nodded with a reluctant move of his head.
"I will be there."

"As will I, if our plans do not go astray," the Prince of Mirkwood replied, an answering smile spreading on his face. He grasped the other's hand in a tight grip, suddenly reluctant to let go, an inexplicable fear in his heart that he would never see his human friend again if he let go of him now. "Look after yourself, reckless human. Be careful, and may the Valar watch over your path."

"And over yours, my friend," Aragorn replied, forcing himself to another smile. "Just don't get yourself into trouble and we should be able to get out of this alive." He turned serious again, studying the elf's lithe, bloody form with quiet intensity. "Remember my words, stubborn elf. I will wait for you, forever if I have to."

After a few more seconds he broke the eye contact and gave his elven friend's hand a last squeeze before he turned without another word, beginning to make his way over to the foothills of the mountain that rose behind Adruran's camp. Giving the encampment itself a wide berth, he avoided the small hill in front of him and headed north-west, prepared to do what they had agreed would buy the elf enough time to fulfil his role in their little plan himself.

Legolas looked after the man for a long time, a very long time, until his figure had disappeared behind the hill that was situated next to the men's camp. Never before had he felt this anxious and afraid to lose his friend, not even when the human had been captured by Cornallar, Donyc and his men. He had feared for his safety and well-being then as well, of course, but it had always been a faint, somehow unrealistic possibility for him that Estel might die. He had somehow assumed that nothing would happen to him, because Aragorn always managed to escape the situations they got themselves into more or less in one piece, but now it was different. Now it had been made clear to him that they all could die, even Celylith and he, and that at some stage, eventually, their luck would run out.

The Valar didn't protect anyone forever, and sooner or later fate caught up with you, no matter who you were.

The elven prince turned around with a sigh, forcing his tired, fiercely hurting body to move, and he slowly moved off into the direction of the camp, sending a fervent prayer to the One to protect them for a bit longer yet.




Adruran was slowly getting into a good mood, something he desperately tried to combat. Partly it was because he didn't want to get ahead of himself, because he wanted to remain objective and calm and didn't want to assume that everything would be going the way he wanted, because it all went – for once – according to plan. For the main part however, it was because, right now, he wanted to be ill-tempered.

The dark haired man started pacing again, back and forth, striding through his small beige tent without any signs of stopping soon. He was annoyed, no, he was beyond annoyed with Geran now. The boy had finally managed to overdo it, but he couldn't really reproach him for his actions since his mission had been accomplished, after all: The ranger and the elf were dead.

Adruran gave a low, rather nasty curse. He had wanted to kill the two of them quickly and cleanly after it had become obvious that neither one would tell them anything any time soon and that it would take far longer than they had to force them to change that attitude, but Geran had somehow convinced him that he had everything completely under control and that it wouldn't hurt to allow him and some of the men a little fun.

He ran a hand through his hair, finally abandoning his attempts to calm down altogether. He honestly didn't know why he had granted his young lieutenant's request, and now here he was, facing the consequences, namely a very dead guard and a lieutenant that was in a worse mood than before. Neither Geran nor Hanar or any of his men had divulged what exactly had happened between them, the elf and the ranger, but Adruran was intelligent enough to put the pieces together.

All this was Geran's fault, ultimately proving that the younger man was unable to effectively command anybody on his own. He was too concentrated on his own pleasure to accomplish a mission, and that was exactly what he was planning to tell him tomorrow – or rather today - after they had salvaged the rest of the treasure and … "disposed" of the Lake-men. Adruran frowned. That was yet another thing he thought highly unnecessary, eliminating eleven men at once was nothing less than unprofessional.

Adruran suppressed a tired sigh. The entire operation had been unprofessional and haunted by misfortune and failure. He rubbed his brow, trying to ease the headache that was growing inside his skull. It was getting too much for him, he was losing the interest in all this. He still enjoyed the meticulous planning that preceded every mission, the positioning of the pieces and the sudden strike, and he was far from regretting killing even one of the many beings he had killed in his time (in his opinion, most of them had deserved it anyway, and may it only be for their general incompetence), but to work with hotheads and amateurs like Geran and Hanar was beginning to tire and annoy him. Perhaps it was indeed time to disappear, he mused, knowing full well that there would be no retirement for someone like him. He would finish this mission, return to his liege and deliver what he had promised to retrieve, and after that he would simply vanish without a trace. Nobody went up to his lord and told him that he wanted to quit, and he was certainly not stupid enough to be the first to try what exactly the consequences of such an action would prove to be.

The dark haired man resisted the urge to beat his head against a tent pole when he heard his name being called by Tiddryr, his red haired lieutenant, in a rather timid voice one might add. After a few moments Adruran remembered that he had ordered him to appear here before dawn to talk about the procedures preceding their departure, and he answered the call, trying to keep at least some of his anger and frustration out of his voice.

A second later Tiddryr entered, looking definitely ill at ease with the entire situation.
"Good morning, sir."

Adruran refrained from pointing out that it was hardly morning yet and simply nodded.
"Tiddryr. How is everything proceeding?"

"Well enough, sir," the red haired man began, eyeing the other carefully. Everybody knew that Adruran was in a bad mood right now, and he would not serve for venting his anger if he had anything to say about it at all. "The main part of the treasure has been brought to the entrance of the tunnel and is ready to be loaded onto the animals. The whole process shouldn't take longer than eight to ten hours, so we can be gone ere sunset."

"What about the Lake-men?" Adruran questioned, refusing to let his good mood resurface again. There was always something that could go wrong, and it usually would go wrong as well. "They haven't figured out yet what will happen to them?"

"No. They do as they're told," Tiddryr stated evenly. "Some of them needed some … 'encouragement' in the beginning, but they have learned that it is best to co-operate. A few have been giving us some trouble, and their leader of course. He's still at the mountain working on, Bleon and especially Geran thought that might teach him and serve as an example."

"Oh, he would," Adruran mumbled under his breath, the annoyance once again stealing over him.

Tiddryr wondered for a moment whether or not he should ask what his captain had meant by that, but decided against it quickly. This mission was almost over, and after all the trouble they've had he really didn't want his throat to be ripped out now by his own superior.

"Very well," Adruran went on, oblivious to his lieutenant's thoughts, "Have a seat, then. We have a lot to plan yet."

He paused for a moment, cocking his head to the side. He was almost sure he had heard something outside his tent, no, he had felt it, that was the better word for it. The dark haired man slowly and soundlessly stood to his feet and gave Tiddryr a sign to remain where he was. With stealthy movements that would have had a ranger nod in approval he quickly crossed the distance to the tent's entrance and, wrenching his sword from its sheath at the same time, forcefully slapped the canvas aside as he quickly stepped out.

Adruran stood in the entrance of his tent, feeling slightly ridiculous when he saw absolutely nothing there, only a raven that eyed him curiously before disappearing between the dark branches of a nearby tree, squawking mockingly. He quickly rounded his tent, looking for tracks or signs that someone had indeed been here, but once again he found nothing.

He slowly returned his blade to its sheath, silently contemplating if he was finally losing it now. But no, he thought as he returned to his tent, his instincts had told him that there had been someone there, and he had learned long ago to trust these feelings because they had saved his life on more than one occasion. Yet he could see nothing, and that was something that filled him with increasing unease. He would indeed be very glad when this mission was over, he decided as he sat down in front of Tiddryr, who looked at him in confusion, copper eyebrows almost touching his hairline. Perhaps he was getting too old for this.

Tiddryr decided in a split second not to comment on his captain's rather irrational behaviour and quickly redirected his gaze to his hands, trying not to affront the other man in any way.
He almost sighed with relief when Adruran simply resumed their conversation where they had left off.

"Alright, Tiddryr. Tell me how you have planned to dispose of the Lake-men, but we will not give them to Geran and his friends. They have had enough fun for a while. After that we can discuss the route home."

The red haired man nodded and began to illustrate his plans, thanking the Gods that all this would be over soon.




Legolas pressed his head against the cool, dark bark of the tree and took a deep breath. Elbereth, this had been close, too close. A part of him was still slightly baffled by the speed with which he had managed to climb this tree, but the mere idea of what would happen to him, the Lake-men and Aragorn should he be caught now had served to encourage him more than he had thought possible.

He suppressed a cold shiver and gripped the tree trunk a bit more tightly. He was by no means a coward or afraid of these people, but there was one thing he never wanted to see again, and that was Geran's little toy. He could still very well remember what it had felt like, the ripping, searing pain and the overwhelming helplessness and fury that had coloured his every thought…

The fair haired elf quickly shook his head and banished these memories from his mind as he carefully let go of the tree, reassured by its soft whispers that it wouldn't let him fall. He slowly ran his fingers over the bark, smiling slightly when he felt a soft shiver of contentment run through the tree, and awkwardly fumbled for the water skin he had … liberated from the tent where they had kept Aragorn and him, the one where the men kept their provisions and water.

Uncorking it quickly, he had to stop himself from drinking all at once, and took slow, careful sips instead. Elentári, he had never known that water could taste so sweet! Now that he actually had the chance to replace some of the fluid he had lost, he began to fully realise how weakened the blood loss had left him. Legolas forced himself to return the water skin to his belt after some time, hoping fervently that Aragorn had managed to find some water as well. The young human needed it much more urgently than him since his mortal body didn't possess the firstborns' strength and endurance for matters such as these.

Slowly the elf began to climb down the tree, smiling again when he felt the tree's sadness at this. There were not many elves in these parts, and the tree was rather unhappy to lose his company again so soon. Giving the bark a small, reassuring pat, Legolas once again concentrated on their plan. He had been on his way from the tent where he had found the water to the back of the camp where they kept the prisoners when he had come past Adruran's tent and heard raised voices.

His sharp elven ears had heard Geran's name, and he had stepped closer, temporarily forgetting what he had promised his human friend. He had only been outside the tent for a few moments when his senses had screamed that he had been discovered, that the men suspected that someone was outside their tent, and the only thing he could think of had been to climb the next best tree he could see and hope to become part of the branches.

It hadn't been a moment too soon and Legolas nearly wouldn't have made it, hampered by his injuries and especially his broken arm as he was, because Adruran had appeared at the tent's entrance, sword drawn and alert. The elf had to give the man some credit for the sharpness of his senses, even though it was clouded by self-reproach and quiet disbelief.
Ilúvatar, if the men could hear him just like that, then he was indeed in a rather bad shape…

Legolas winced slightly when his feet touched the snowy ground as pain once again flared to life in his chest. He pushed it to the back of his head and quietly slipped into the shadows of the forest, trying to be as quiet and invisible as his hurting body would allow him. He carefully moved along the forest's edge as he reviewed the information he had just received from Adruran and his red haired lieutenant. So they were almost finished, just as Aragorn and he had thought, and were indeed planning to eliminate the Lake-men when they were ready to leave.

New resolve filled him, taking away some of the exhaustion and pain he felt. Now it was essential that they did get the Lake-men out of here, tonight, or else everything would be for naught and they would fail the trust Owaeran had placed in them, the trust that they would bring his brother back to Lake-town safe and sound.

He increased his pace, slightly surprised that his body didn't complain. It had probably given up, he thought wryly, after having realised that he wouldn't pay attention to the warning signals it emitted. Finally, he thought with a small sense of triumph, he had mastered his body, showing it who was in command here…

His sense of achievement turned to ashes when he lost his footing on the uneven, snow covered forest floor – something that added yet another layer of shame to his consciousness, for wood-elves usually did not lose their footing – and he fell to one knee, his body screaming loudly in pain when it was jarred by the impact. Cursing soundlessly, Legolas pushed himself back to his feet, deciding that this was far from over. One of these days he would show his body who was really in control, some time … perhaps not right now, but soon. Very soon, after he had spent some time in Hithrawyn's healing wing, an idea that appeared very attractive to him right now.

The elven prince resumed his walk, knowing that he would have to hurry. Aragorn would soon be ready, and he had quite a few things to do before then. He grinned grimly. Oh yes, quite a few things, and if he managed to do even a third of them, he would be rather impressed himself.

He stealthily moved past the men's horses that were standing huddled together to his right, mumbling soft elven words under his breath in an attempt to calm the startled animals. The last thing he needed now was to be given away by a horse. A moment later though, it appeared as if just that would happen when three horses that stood a bit away from the others began to strain against the ropes that bound them to poles that had been driven into the ground, bright manes gleaming in the light of the dipping moon.

For a few seconds, Legolas simply stood as if rooted to the spot, cursing the troublesome beasts in his mind, before his tired brain understood why the horses were acting in this particular manner. A smile lighting up his bruised face, he hurried over to the animals as quickly as possible, feeling as if he had just rediscovered some very old friends – which he had, in a way.

The smile turned into a frown and then into an angry grimace when he studied the three overjoyed horses that were trying to free themselves of the leashes that secured them to the poles. Every horse wore a thick leather halter whose mouthpieces dug deeply into the soft skin of their mouths, and slashes and welts could be seen on their lean bodies. The big, white horse seemed to have suffered worse than the other two; dark, ragged welts covering most of the dully gleaming white coat.

"Rashwe!" Legolas called out, reaching his horse's side a second later, blue eyes darkening when he saw the cruel treatment their beasts had had to suffer. He reached out and gently stroked the brightly gleaming white nose, looking slightly alarmed when Rashwe neighed softly at then touch, afraid that it might attract attention. "What did they do to all of you, my friend?"

The horse simply rubbed its nose against his shoulder, snorting softly, and Legolas quickly began to unfasten the halter and ropes that bound the horse to the pole. When he had freed Rashwe, he walked over to Aragorn's and Celylith's horse, the latter appearing sad and dejected when it looked in vain for its master. Rashwe was apparently not prepared to let him out of his sight again and followed him over to the other two horses, somehow managing to project an air of happiness and slight reproach, as if scolding the elf that it had taken him so long to come back for them.

Legolas looked at Aragorn's horse while he was undoing the cruel halter, his fury reaching new dimensions. He could understand to a certain degree what the men had done to his friends and him, even though he would never forget or forgive it. They had threatened them in a way, after all, but their horses had done no such thing. They were simply not used to be approached or touched by anyone but elves, but definitely were no threat to them.

Sometimes he really despaired of humans, he thought as the halter came off, what they didn't understand they tried to destroy. What they didn't know they feared and hated, and what didn't bow to them and their standards they tried to break. It was in moments like these that he could understand the resentment and prejudices many other elves harboured for the second born, and why Aragorn had sometimes a hard time accepting that he was, after all, a man and therefore one of them.

He gave the three animals a quick glance and moved on, only to stop when he realised that all of them were following him. Legolas shot them an exasperated glare, which the three of them ignored completely. They were not going to let the only elf they had seen for days get away from them now.

He turned fully around, placing his good hand on Rashwe's neck, stroking it gently.
"I am sorry, my friend," he told the horse which seemed to be listening attentively. "Where I must go now you cannot follow. I need you to get a little deeper into the forest and wait there for us. We will have need of your services before this is over."

The white horse gave him a look so dark that, for a moment, Legolas could have sworn that Lord Elrond or Aragorn had taught it the look as well. But no, he decided after a moment, staring back at the animal, Aragorn was too afraid of it to come too closely and Lord Elrond had other things to do than that, although it might be the Lord of Rivendell's revenge for having to patch him up repeatedly…

Finally, Rashwe snorted softly and nodded his gleaming head, and with a last, annoyed look in Legolas' direction the horse turned and trotted off into the wood, closely followed by the other two horses which didn't even give him a second glance either.

Inwardly shaking his head and beginning to understand why Aragorn and his brothers had their little … problems with his horse, he began once again to move, thanking the Valar that the men had not posted a guard near their horses. But then again, they didn't have to. The dwarves were not very likely to steal their horses – for a fleeting moment the elven prince amused himself with a picture of a dwarf on a horse – and they thought that Aragorn and he were dead, so why should they bother?

He forced his thoughts off that particular topic when he reached a large, dark tent that was standing at the far side of the camp, the tent where Legolas guessed Adruran's men kept their prisoners. A second later his suspicions were confirmed when he began to make his way around the tent and almost stumbled over a guard that was posted there at the entrance.

Drawing back again before the man had the change to notice his presence in any way, the elf quickly looked about him, searching for something he could use to silence that guard. Silver-blue eyes lit up wickedly when they came to rest on a large stack of fire wood just next to the tent, and he stepped closer to grab a large, thick and rather hard-looking branch that was just the right size.

Legolas moved soundlessly over the pristine snow that had fallen tonight and slowly stepped closer to the man, inwardly shaking his head at his incompetence. He was just standing there all the time, staring in the same direction without moving an inch; it was really quite unbelievable…

With an inward shrug the elven prince brought the makeshift club down on the human's head, and couldn't stifle a grim smile of satisfaction when a soft, sharp crack could be heard, quite audibly to his elven ears. Legolas carefully bent down, relieved the man of his knives and sword and clumsily transferred them to his own belt, a cold sweat beading his brow when he righted himself again. Bending down was not a good idea, but he had hardly any other options, and so he quickly grabbed the unconscious human by the ankle and dragged him into the tent.

Legolas turned quickly around and closed the front flap of the tent when the guard was fully inside, and when he looked back into the tent that was half-lit by a small, dying fire next to him, he looked into ten of the most astonished faces he had ever seen. Ten humans were sitting on the floor, hands bound and fixed to wooden poles, and stared at him as if he was an apparition right out of Minas Morgul.

The elven prince noted with amusement that one or two of the men had been unable to stop their jaws from dropping and stared at him in open-mouthed surprise now. Not willing to lose any more time, he quickly knelt down next to the man closest to him and began to cut the ropes that secured him to the post. The man jerked away slightly from his touch, and Legolas looked up somehow startled, his slightly jumbled brain informing him that he should probably explain himself to them unless he wished to cause a mass panic.

"I mean you no harm," he assured the men, trying to keep his voice level and as calm as possible. "My name is Legolas, I am a wood-elf from Mirkwood. Where is Gwemyr?"

The man whose bonds he was just cutting looked at him in surprise.
"You are the elf they killed yesterday?"

"Yes," Legolas nodded and pressed a second knife into the human's hand, motioning him to start helping him to free his companions. "Or rather no. I am the elf they thought they had killed." He stopped for a second, moving onto the next man. "Where is Gwemyr?"

"He is not here," one of the men provided quietly.

The elf stopped in mid-motion. Were they already too late?
"What do you mean, 'he is not here'? Is he dead?"

"No," the man assured him quickly. "No, at least he wasn't this evening. He's still working at the mountain, for 'rebellious behaviour'."

Legolas shook his head slightly as he freed the next of the men. He should have expected something like this from Owaeran's troublesome brother. The man he had freed first looked at him in suspicion and surprise.

"Why do you help us, Master Elf? And why are you looking for Gwemyr?"

"Master Gwemyr's brother is a … a friend of mine, and a valued trade partner of my liege," he explained, not interrupting his work. "We promised Master Owaeran we would bring his brother home. Besides," he lifted his head from where he had just cut free the last of the Lake-men, eyes frighteningly dark and hard in his face, "I have a score to settle with your hosts. But that will come later, first we have to get you out of here."

The man snorted, and when the elf raised a quizzical eyebrow, he gave a lop-sided grin and explained.
"If you'll forgive me, Master Legolas, but there is very little chance of us doing so. We are no fighters, and you…" The human paused and shrugged slightly. "Well, I don't know much about your kind, I'll give you that, but you are in no condition to fight twenty men on your own either, that much is clear."

A part of Legolas agreed with that assessment, but another, stubborn and - as his father would say - slightly suicidal part shook its head unwillingly.

"Fighting is not exactly an essential part of our plan," he said as he struggled to his feet, closing his eyes shortly when the tent turned suddenly upside-down. He should have known, he thought with an inward, irritated growl, this happened more and more frequently to him of late. Trying to pay the ground no attention that was where the tent's roof should rightly be, he turned back to the man, doing his best to listen to his words.

"Our?" the man asked hopefully, his companions crowding behind him. "You are not alone?"

Legolas looked at him, feeling rather sorry for having to destroy the man's hopes who actually seemed to think that there was an elven army waiting for a signal to strike. 'If only,' he thought longingly.
"No, I am not. My companion is right now preparing a distraction that should buy us enough time to get out of here."

The men's faces seemed to fall when they heard the singular form Legolas used, and their spokesman gave a rather weak smile.
"I see."

The elven prince studied the assembled men closely, trying to remember what had seemed wrong to him just a few moments ago. The dull pain that throbbed through his body with every heartbeat made it hard for him to concentrate, but finally he realised what had bothered him.

"Where are the 'Fox's' men?" he asked, eyeing the humans suspiciously. "There should be at least six or seven here with you."

Now it was the man's turn to look suspicious.
"How do you know that?"

Legolas gave a small, humourless smile, with one ear trying to listen to any unusual sounds that might indicate that someone was drawing closer to their position.
"Oh, let's just say that a friend and I had a discussion with him a while ago. He was most forthcoming after some time."

The smile was so dark and there was something so pained and grieving in the elf's eyes that the spokesman didn't even contemplate not answering the question.
"They are dead. Some were killed when these men attacked us and some ran away." He swallowed quickly. "None of them escaped."

The elven prince managed to stifle a small smile of satisfaction. Well, at least something he had wanted to do had been achieved, the men who had ambushed them had paid for it. He gave his rather unstable surroundings another look and resisted the urge to lecture the Lake-men that stood in front of him – looking very much like disobedient children – about how terrible stupid and naïve they had behaved, but before he could say something (which was probably rather good since he was having a rather hard time thinking of sensible things to say), his ears detected a sound that did not belong into a camp where most of the people should still be asleep: Shouting.

The men looked at each other nervously and began to whisper among themselves, but Legolas held up a hand, listening attentively. His face turned from puzzled to serious to frightened in a matter of seconds, and the spokesman stepped closer to him, looking at him with wide, worried eyes.

"Your distraction, Master Elf?"

The elven prince turned back to him, silver-blue eyes huge and steely and his hand tightening on the handle of his knife.

"No, Master Human. This was not what my companion was supposed to do. It appears," he stopped for a moment, listening to the commotion outside their tent and the surprised shouts that grew louder by the second, "that our plans have just gone astray."




Aragorn moved as soundlessly as possible through the dark wood, already condemning their plan – if one could even call it that – to the deepest, most unpleasant dungeon of the Dark Lord. Legolas and he had separated half an hour ago, and he knew he would have to hurry if he wanted to have that distraction ready in time.

All in all, he still thought their plan was essentially a good one – or it would have been a good one had both of them been healthy, or anything resembling that condition. Then it would have been even a very good plan, but in the condition both of them were in at the moment he would be happy if one of them accomplished his objective.

That thought served to make him move faster. He would not be responsible for the failure of their little mission, besides, if he wasn't ready on time and there was nothing that diverted the men's attention when Legolas tried to get the Lake-men out of the camp…

No, that thought was not even worth contemplating, he decided, beginning to climb the foothills of the mountain. Both Legolas and he knew that they were not strong enough to fight their way through the men to try and save Gwemyr and his friends, and therefore they had decided that someone or something would need to distract them. He had had a hard time convincing Legolas that he would go and think of something that would serve as a distraction, and the elf had only relented when Aragorn had pointed out that he couldn't move as soundlessly as Legolas and would be caught before he could even have reached the tent.

The elf had lifted an incredulous eyebrow at that, but accepted his reasoning as sound, and by now Aragorn himself thought that this had been the truth. He was already panting and out of breath, and he seriously doubted that he would have been able to sneak into the humans' camp now, or any camp for that matter.

The good thing with men though, the ranger mused as he tried to ignore his headache that was threatening to split his skull, was that they were rather predictable. No, make that very predictable, he added as an afterthought. These men were here for the treasure, and therefore it was highly predictable what would shock and distract them the most: Something that threatened their precious gold. They wouldn't be willing to let anything happen to it, and that made them very vulnerable.

Aragorn shook his head in disgust, realising only a split second later what a terribly stupid thing that had been to do when his skull exploded in a new wave of pain. He needed water, he decided fuzzily, and he needed it soon, or he wouldn't be able to provide a distraction for his elven friend.

After what felt like an eternity he finally reached a small plateau that was bare and empty, with nothing but snow to cover the frozen ground. Following the tracks that led to the right and closer to the rock face he rounded a rock that sharply protruded from the rock wall, and stopped and leaned against the cool surface to his left when his eyes fixed on the sight before him. The stone felt gloriously cool against his skin that really shouldn't feel this hot, and he had to wrench his thoughts away from the wonderful feeling by force.

To the left of him, a few hundred yards away, there was a dark, looming opening in the rock face, about as high as a grown man and twice as wide. On the side he could see the pile of stones the men had removed, and a multitude of tracks led to the entrance and away again. There it was, the treasure, and he simply needed to do something that would alert the men and cause them to come rushing up here. Then he could make his way to the rendezvous point and meet with Legolas and the Lake-men, they could get to Erebor, inform King Dáin and King Bard and possibly get some anti-inflammatory herbs and then they could come back and kill the men for what they had done to his elven friends.

Aragorn nodded, beginning to make his way over to the opening, moving rather unsteadily on his feet. That plan did sound very good to his ears, even though he was beginning to suspect that someone or something had kindled a roaring fire in his body. He didn't really know when or why, all he knew was that he was burning up, and the fire was spreading and beginning to infest his thoughts.

A grin was beginning to spread on his flushed face. Fire … yes, that was a very good idea. Was there anything better than a nice fire to ensure Adruran's men's distraction? His mind busy with imagining various ways of setting something on fire up here, he drew nearer to the opening, and in his preoccupied state would almost have missed the raised voices to his right.

His brain needed a few seconds to connect the voices to guards and danger, and he slipped into the shadows of the mountain as quickly as possible, shaking his head forcefully and clinging to the pain as something that would help him concentrate. Elbereth, he couldn't lose it now, Legolas depended on him, and it would be his fault if the elf got caught…

The voices were still some distance away and Aragorn knew he should simply go on, make his way over to the caves, try to somehow kindle a fire and then get away from here as fast and far as humanly possible, but his plans turned to ashes when he heard the unmistakable sound of a whip that found flesh.

"Faster, sluggard! Move faster or I will have to get Geran to help again!"

At the mention of Geran's name, the man who had killed Celylith and shot Legolas, a red haze seemed to lay itself over the young ranger's vision, and he had a hard time stopping himself from rushing forward.

A pain-filled moan could be heard, and a tired, weary voice spoke up that sounded resigned to its fate.
"And what then? I know you are planning to kill us, I am no simpleton! Why should I help you get what we have worked so hard for?"

Almost on their own account Aragorn's feet had moved, carrying him closer to the two men, and soon he found himself standing behind a large tree to the right of the cave entrance, wondering just how he had got there. He couldn't remember walking over to here, and it was now that he was really beginning to suspect that the infection just might have spread a little bit faster than either he or Legolas had anticipated. His thoughts were redirected to the scene in front of him though, and he blinked quickly to force his eyes to focus. A blonde man was lying on the ground, a large pack next to him that he had obviously been carrying up to where the treasure was. There were various bruises on his face, and the ranger's keen eyes could discern some slashes in his clothing that were undoubtedly due to the whip the man who stood over him held.

Aragorn felt how his fury intensified again. That had to be one of the Lake-men, and the one holding the whip was one of Adruran's lieutenants, Bleon, if he remembered correctly. Bleon gave the man on the ground another almost playful blow, and bent closer to him, his voice soft in the night air.

"Because I will have your friends punished for every single mistake you make from now on, understood?" When the blonde man wouldn't answer, he hit him again, more forceful this time. "Understood?"

The man on the ground bit back a groan and nodded his head.
"Yes."

"Yes what?" the other man asked, twiddling the leather thong idly between his fingers.

"Yes … sir," the blonde man added in an icy whisper, causing a smug grin to spread on Bleon's face.

In retrospect, it was probably that grin more than anything else that caused Aragorn to act. He was already moving before he had even consciously made the decision to leave the protection of the tree behind, and quickly closed in on the two men that were entirely too focused on themselves to pay their surroundings much attention.
He couldn't watch this happen to someone else, the ranger decided as he closed the snow covered distance between him and the men, moving more soundlessly than he had thought himself capable of at the moment. He couldn't leave this man behind and know that Bleon did to him what Geran had done to Legolas, he just couldn't. If he hurried, he would still have enough time to stage a distraction, but that smile had been the same Geran had given him while he had whipped his elven friend. He wouldn't leave anyone to this fate, and certainly not one of the people they had come to rescue in the first place.

He was behind Bleon before the man had even noticed that there was anything wrong, and the next thing the other human knew was an arm that was laid round his neck and jerked his head backwards. The whip fell from his suddenly lifeless fingers as he tried to struggle, to somehow dislodge the iron hold that cut off his air, but his attacker's body was pressed right into his back and he couldn't reach him, no matter how hard he tried.

Bleon's resistance died down quickly, and when Aragorn released his body a few minutes later, he dropped to the ground like a stone. The young ranger bent down to retrieve his weapons, making a mental note to report to his brothers that their stranglehold-technique worked just fine indeed, even in a real situation.

He almost lost himself in rather amusing memories of the day the twins had taught him this particular skill and what their father had said when he had come across them by chance and had seen two barely conscious elven twins and a rather embarrassed and worried Estel, but a slight movement of the man on the ground brought him back to the present.

The blonde man eyed him warily, as if trying to judge if Aragorn really wanted to help him.
"Is he dead? Who are you? Why did you do that?"

The younger man extended a hand and did his best to help him to his feet, almost causing both of them to topple over and land face first in the snow.
"Well, my name is Strider; I am a Ranger of the North. Whether he is dead I do not know, and to be honest I do not care overly much either. And I did it because I would not want to see anyone suffer such ill treatment, not when I can prevent it."

The other man gave him a taxing look before he nodded his head slowly.
"Then I thank you, Strider. My name is Gwemyr, and I hail from Esgaroth."

Aragorn raised an amused eyebrow. So this was Gwemyr, Master Owaeran's elusive little brother? He studied the man more closely, and really, if one knew what one was looking for there was indeed a family-likeness.

He motioned for the man to follow him up the little path that led up to the mountain.
"Your brother is very worried about you, Master Gwemyr."

The blonde man stood as if rooted to the spot and grabbed Aragorn's arm, his eyes wide.
"My brother? You know Owaeran? Is he well? What about my niece and my sister-in-law?"

"They are fine," Aragorn tried to reassure the man, urgency beginning to fill his entire being. He needed to create that distraction soon, or all would be in vain and it would be his fault that Legolas and the rest of the Lake-men would be captured. "They are all fine, do not worry. And it is all a very, very long story, but we promised your brother to bring you home."

Gwemyr shook his head in confusion and was about to ask more, but Aragorn interrupted him with a move of his hand.
"No, Master Gwemyr, we do not have time to discuss anything right now. How many of your men are left in the camp?"

"Ten," Gwemyr answered, eyeing the younger man curiously. He had heard a lot about rangers, of course, but this one looked … interesting, to say the least. More than anything else he was surprised at his youth and the quiet determination that emanated from him, even though he was beginning to realise that he was not well. First he hadn't noticed anything since Strider had overpowered the guard so quickly and effortlessly, but when he looked at him now, he was moving stiffer than usual for a man, and his bruised face looked unnaturally flushed as well. "Are you alright?" he added, feeling very stupid at the question. "What happened to you?"

The other gave a wry grimace as they continued to move over to the opening as fast as possible.
"No, I guess not," he admitted grimly. "But this is neither the time nor the place to change that, so I think it doesn't matter. And as to what happened," he grinned slightly, "let's just say that we enjoyed your hosts' 'hospitality' as well some time ago."

"We?" Gwemyr asked, renewed hope shining in his eyes. "You have someone with you?" Before Aragorn could answer, a thought shot through the man, making him open his eyes as wide as possible. "My friends! We need to help them!"

He was about to turn back to rush down the slope, but the young ranger caught his sleeve just in time.
"No!" He jerked the sleeve he held impatiently, beginning to curse this man and his impulsiveness. "My friend is down in the camp and freeing them as we speak. What we need to do is create a diversion so he and your companions can escape."

"What did you have in mind?" Gwemyr asked, curiously.

"Well," Aragorn began, stopping shortly to cock his head to the side. He could have sworn that he had heard something… He tried to listen more closely, but his head was swimming and he couldn't concentrate very well. He shook his head and continued, noting with relief that they were no more than ten yards away from the opening now. "I thought about setting the cave over there on fire."

"On fire?" Gwemyr hissed and grabbed his arm, letting go again quickly when he noticed the grimace of pain that flashed over the ranger's face. "Are you mad? Do you know how much gold is in there? I haven't worked so hard to let you destroy all of that now!"

Aragorn gritted his teeth and took a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his cracked ribs. He would never, ever understand men, he decided. He had perhaps really lived too long with the firstborn for that; he would never understand what it was about gold and money that justified this kind of behaviour.

He lifted his head and pierced Gwemyr with a hard, contemptuous look.
"You? Worked hard? You obtained the information from pair of young, drunk dwarves! Dwarves that were killed by your business partner because of what they knew! Wasn't it so?"

Gwemyr blanched and averted his eyes under the burning glare.
"They said it was an accident…"

"And you believed that? You knew perfectly well it was not an accident, you simply chose to accept it as true! You and your men have brought Erebor and Dale to the brink of war, are responsible for the death of one of my friends and the fact that my best friend will need several weeks to sufficiently recover from what these men here have done to him, if he ever fully recovers, that is, and all that for nothing more than money, and then you dare lecture me on what and what not to do with that accursed treasure that brought so much death and suffering to so many people?? Are you really willing to trade your friends' lives for gold?"

"I … I didn't mean it like that…" the other man began to stammer, but Aragorn cut him off again.

"Please, spare me that," he shook his head, his mind already on the task ahead. There were some barrels piled up at the entrance of the cave, but also some wood, and the struts that supported the ceiling looked quite dry, too…

Gwemyr once again opened his mouth to argue, but before he could say anything, a loud shout could be heard some distance away, closely followed by the sound of running feet that quickly drew closer to their position. Aragorn cursed under his breath and drew Bleon's sword from his belt, quickly reaching out and pressing one of the daggers into the other man's hand. He had known he had heard something, he thought furiously, tightening his grip on the sword and doing his best to get his breathing under control. He should have hidden Bleon, why had he forgotten something as simple as that? Sudden nausea swept over him and that was the point when he realised that he wouldn't be able to do what he had promised, namely to fulfil his part of their plan, and most likely wouldn't be able to do the other thing he had promised either, namely to come back alive.

Listening to the footsteps that quickly drew closer, he asked,

"Do you know how to fight?"

Gwemyr who was still eyeing the dagger that had been shoved into his hands as if it might turn into a snake and bite him looked up, startled.
"Of course!"

Aragorn turned and gave him a long look.
"Well, maybe not really," the blonde man amended. He returned his eyes to the dagger he clumsily held. "But I know how to use one of these – I think."

"Ah," the young ranger made faintly, his estimated chances of survival dropping about sixty percent at that admission. He set his jaw as he came to a decision. There was no need for both of them to die, after all.

"Go."

"What?" Gwemyr hissed, looking at him unbelievingly. "I cannot leave you here!"

"Yes, you can," Aragorn retorted, eyes fixed on the path in front of them. Any second now they would be here, and he didn't have to guess who 'they' would be. "I will keep them busy for as long as possible. I need you to hide until they are gone and then to set the cave on fire." He turned and looked the other man in the eye, silver eyes hard and flinty. "You have to do it, or neither my friend nor your companions will escape alive. Do you understand?"

The blonde man averted his eyes under his look, and finally nodded.
"Alright, Mr. Strider. But…"

"No time for that!" Aragorn ground out, hearing that the men were very close now. "You have to go, now!"

Gwemyr gave him a last, long look before he turned and disappeared round a huge stone that partly lay on the path that led away from the cave, leaving Aragorn behind. The young ranger shifted his stance slightly, knowing full well that he was in no condition to fight, besides, there was not really a reason to. He couldn't escape anyway, not if he was correct and there were at least two men coming up the path. He studied the slowly lightening sky in the East, suddenly wishing that the sun would rise. It wouldn't make much of a difference, but he had the feeling that he had spent the past few days in a dark abyss and would have done everything to see the giant disk make her way across the heavens once more.

Before he could dwell longer on that subject, three men came into view, quickly leaving the small forest behind where he had found Gwemyr.
"Hey! There he is! Get him!"

Aragorn had neither the strength nor the inclination to run, and so he simply stood his ground, trying to ignore the complaints his increasingly hot body was beginning to send to his brain. Time seemed to slow and then suddenly to accelerate, since the men who had been several hundred feet away were suddenly in front of him, even thought it felt to him as if only a second had passed. He had little time to think about that, for he had to move to the side to avoid being cut into two. The young ranger did his best to block the blows that were raining down on him, but he seemed to have lost the ability to move quickly and surely, and soon the hilt of a sword hit him into the side of his neck, causing him to crash to the ground with no time to break his fall.

He didn't even have time to lift his head before he felt two pairs of hands on his upper arms, digging sharply into bruised and cut skin, and he was jerked to his feet. A hand grasped his chin and pulled his head up, and Aragorn looked into the very last face he wanted to see right now: Geran's.

The man grinned at him, a grin full of menace and anticipation. He shook his head in amusement and astonishment, the grin only widening.

"I don't believe it," he said, turning his captive's face to the side to inspect the large bruise he had put there a day ago, as if to make sure he was really who he thought him to be. "If that's not the ranger that should be dead now." His grip tightened, and he looked into Aragorn's fever-bright eyes. "Where is the Lake-man? How did you escape? Is the elf still alive as well?"

The younger man simply looked back at him, a stubborn expression on his face. He hadn't told this man what he wanted to know the last time, and he would be damned if he betrayed his elven friend to him now.

Geran didn't seem too disappointed by his reaction, for he simply shook his head, motioning to the men to bind their captive and take his weapons. He nodded at one of his men.
"You. Look for the other one, he can't have got far. Bring him back to the camp once you find him."

The other man just finished securing the ranger's hands behind his back, and he smiled slightly as he stepped closer and grabbed one of his now bound arms.
"Let's get back to camp, shall we?" he asked friendly, tightening his hold on the other's arm and beginning to drag him down the path, not caring in the slightest if the ranger managed to stay on his feet or not. "I have to say I underestimated you and your little elven friend the last time, even though I have to say that it was somewhat sloppy to leave the dear Bleon behind just like that. All the better for me though, so I am not too disappointed. But do you know what I think?"

Geran inserted a small, dramatic pause, his whole face practically glowing.

"I think the elf is still alive as well. I think he got you out of that little cave – although I must say I could not say how – unless you bandaged yourself just like this, which I doubt, by the way. No," he grinned at his pale captive who had his eyes closed now, wholly concentrated on keeping up with Geran and not to fall flat on his face, "I think your little elven friend is somewhere close by." He grinned evilly, eyes cold and lifeless. "And I know just how to get him to come to us, ranger. I don't think he will be able to refuse."

Aragorn tried to block out his words, tried to concentrate on walking instead, but every word Geran said cut through his heart like the steel of a blade. Valar, he knew, he knew that Legolas was here, and if he ever got his hands on him again… No, he thought in sudden, wild determination, he would not let this man get near his friend again, he would not!

The second man Geran had had with him had run ahead to inform the camp of their arrival, and while he was being dragged down the path by Geran's steely hands and listened to the shouts that rang through the once quiet camp, Aragorn began to realise that there was nothing he could do to prevent just that, and that it would be he who would condemn his friend to torment and death, unwilling as it may be.




Legolas was very close to strangling himself. How could he have been so stupid, how could he have been so thoughtless? Of course Estel had been caught, he should have known he would be! Why had he believed him when he had said that he was more or less alright? It wasn't that he didn't have confidence in the ranger's ability to protect himself, but he had once again forgotten to take into account that he was a human, and not of the elven race. He should have known that the infection would spread more rapidly than it would have done in an elven body, and that that in combination with the blood loss and dehydration would make the young man weak and unable to defend himself.

Now here he was, standing at the shadowed entrance of the tent and watching the person he wanted to kill more than anything else on Arda drag his best friend down the steep, snowy path that led down the mountain. From what he could see Aragorn was not in a good shape, and he looked much worse than when they had parted nearly two hours ago. His face seemed to be red in the one second and white in the next, and Legolas suspected that he would have swayed and fallen had Geran not gripped his arm tightly.

"Sir? Master Elf?"

The frightened voice of one of the men behind him drew him back from his thoughts, and he turned, giving the small figure of his friend that was still several hundred yards away from the camp a last look. He quietly studied the humans in front of him, deciding in a split second that none of them were warriors. Even if they were willing to help him – which he doubted somehow, since the majority looked scared out of their minds – he didn't think that they would be of much use to him.

"Master Human," he addressed the spokesman of the group, quiet urgency in his voice, "I need you to get your men out of here. Now."

"But … but your friend…"

"Everybody is concentrated on the other side of the camp," he ignored the objection, "and that should be distraction enough to make your way away from here undetected. Try to cover your tracks as best as possible or find some place to hide, for the sun will rise soon and make it easier for eventual pursuers."

"You are not coming with us?" the man asked, alarmed. "Where should we go?"

"Dale," Legolas replied, deciding that the town was probably closer than the Lonely Mountain. Besides, he wouldn't expect anynone to go and ask the dwarves for help if there was any other option left. "King Bard is informed of the situation and will know what to do. I will stay here and see what I can do to help my friend." He turned back to the entrance, making sure with a quick look that there was no-one watching the tent, but he wouldn't have needed to worry: Every man was at the other side of the camp, staring at the prisoner Geran had made and shouting questions to one another which none of them could answer. "You need to go. Please, go now."

The man simply nodded and ushered his men out of the tent, telling them to make for the woods that were but a few yards to the left of the tent. He stopped before he himself exited the tent, looking at the fair haired elf and nodding his head in gratitude.
"We owe you a great deal, Master Legolas. We will come back with help as soon possible."

Legolas gave him a quick smile, noticing that Geran and Aragorn had reached the main fireplace by now and were talking to Adruran, or rather, Geran was talking to Adruran, an especially smug expression on his face while Aragorn stared into nothing. He seriously doubted that the humans would be able to come back before these men had killed both of them, but there was no reason to tell him that.

"It was my pleasure, Master Human. Just don't get caught and it will have been worth it."

The man inclined his head again, and with one last look at his saviour he turned around and followed his men into the small wood, probably thanking Eru that he had got out this alive – for now.

Legolas turned back into the direction of the main fireplace, trying to see what was going on. It was rather hard since his surroundings still seemed to blur together once in a while, something he knew was his body's way of informing him that he needed to rest, soon, or it would make sure of it itself by slipping into unconsciousness. 'A plan,' he thought desperately, 'I need a plan. Now.'

Fact was, however, that his options were sadly limited. He couldn't fight all of them, that would have been near impossible even if had he been healthy. He couldn't leave Aragorn behind either, which was not a thought worth pursuing. There was no way he would leave his human friend in Hanar's and Geran's hands, not while he was still drawing breath. The only slight advantage he held were their horses, even though that was something most people, including Aragorn and his brothers, would rather have described as a disadvantage. He knew that they, and especially Rashwe, were capable of wreaking some havoc, and it might give them enough time to escape, somehow, even though it would place all of them in considerable danger…

"Elf! I know you can hear me!!"

Legolas looked up a little bit startled, realising after a moment that they probably meant him, unless there was another elf somewhere around here, which he seriously doubted, even though it was a rather nice idea… The elven prince had to tear his thoughts away from the very nice ideas of what he would do if he had an elven warrior to watch his back and redirected his attention to the situation at hand.

He carefully stepped out of the tent and moved closer to the main fire place, and while he was still slowly moving around another tent, the voice sounded again, and this time Legolas could identify it as Geran's, wondering why he hadn't recognised it the first time.

"Master Elf! I know you are here, you wouldn't leave your little ranger friend alone, now would you?" A muffled grunt could be heard, followed by a dull thud when something heavy hit the ground. "I'm sure you already know that we have your friend here! He doesn't look too good!"

Legolas took two steps forward, only to freeze in his tracks, luckily covered by a large, snow covered bush that grew next to the tent he had just rounded, still about a hundred feet from the fireplace. Gathered in front of him stood the men, in front of them Adruran, who looked thoroughly annoyed by now, and his red haired lieutenant, and in front of them stood Geran, towering over the figure of his human friend who was lying in the snow and slowly trying to push himself onto his knees.

Geran bent down to his prisoner, grabbing him by his now wet shirt.
"Call for your friend, ranger. Let him know you require his assistance."

Aragorn raised his head with an obvious effort and gave the slightly older man a stare so cold that it should have frozen him on the spot, making unambiguously clear that he intended to do no such thing. Geran simply smiled and nodded at Hanar who stood on the ranger's other side, who in turn drew back and, after aiming carefully, delivered a kick to the young man's ribcage, right to his burnt side.

Legolas closed his eyes and swallowed hard at the choked cry of pain his friend couldn't hold back, and only heard dimly what Geran said next, a sneer in his voice.

"You hear that, elf? It can get much worse for him yet! He just killed Bleon, so most of the men are a tiny bit upset with him at the moment! You have a minute to show yourself!"

The fair haired elf opened his eyes again, silver-blue orbs fixed on the doubled over body of the young ranger. Aragorn wouldn't be able to withstand such treatment for long, not weakened that he already was. He could only hope to stall as long as possible to give the man some time to regain his strength, and then hope that they could escape with the help of their horses. It was a faint, desperate hope, and the elf knew that all of them would most likely die today, but he wouldn't go without trying.

He quickly moved closer to the fireplace, careful to keep himself hidden, aiming for a spot that would allow him to face all of the men – that way at least his back would be covered, which was better than nothing. Not much, but a little. Now only a few yards away from his friend and his captors, he began to hastily unwrap the bandages that kept his arm secured to his chest, but decided to leave the actual bandage in place, the one that was wrapped around the splints his human friend had strapped to the appendage. He winced slightly when he moved his arm to the side, trying to suppress Aragorn's voice who had warned him to do exactly that. But he didn't have any other option now; he could hardly buy them some time when he conveyed the impression that he was an easy target.

He was still busy with this when he heard another kick connect with flesh, closely followed by a low moan of pain that was quickly bitten off.
"Master Elf! I grow impatient! Have you truly so little sympathy for your friend here?"

Legolas took a deep breath and sent a fervent prayer to Ilúvatar before he left the cover of the tent and stepped out into the open. Bluffing. He could do that, he had done it with the twins for ages before Aragorn had entered their lives and evened the odds a little…

"You wouldn't understand the meaning of friendship even if one spelt it out for you, Geran."

Geran's eyes lit up when they fixed on the elf, a happy grin beginning to spread over his face. O the Gods, he was still alive, he really was lucky… He turned back to the men behind him and resisted saying "I told you so!" when he saw Adruran's annoyed face. The older man didn't look happy at all, a small voice in his head supplied, but he pushed it aside. Who cared if his captain was unhappy when he had his elf back?

He was about to give the men behind him a sign to seize the elf when he heard a hard, emotionless voice speak up.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He turned back to the fair haired elf, an eyebrow raised in amusement.
"Oh? And why not? You are clearly injured, Master Elf, so what would keep me from doing with you as I please? You cannot fight us!"

The elf didn't appear to be intimidated at all and even took a lazy step forward, his right hand drawing nonchalant patterns in the cold air.
"You really think we came here without a backup plan? You really think we came unprepared?" A wide grin spread over his face and he began to chuckle. "How stupid do you think we are?"

Aragorn who had shut his eyes in despair when his elven friend had entered the small space opened them again and only just stopped his jaw from dropping. What was Legolas talking about? They had been that stupid, and their plans had failed. They had nothing left now.

Legolas gave his friend a warning look, hoping with all his heart the young ranger was still lucid enough to play along. A thoughtless word would mean both their deaths now.
"No," he continued, not willing to give his feverish friend the opportunity to speak and ruin his little charade. "Since you like playing with people so much, we thought we'd start as well."

The mirth seemed to disappear from Geran's face, and the young man narrowed his eyes, studying the bloody, cut and bruised form of the elf more closely.
"What?"

Adruran gave a short, but obviously heartfelt curse, dividing his attention between his lieutenant and Legolas.
"I do not enjoy being toyed with, elf. I thought we had established that!"

The fair haired elf merely arched an eyebrow at that, giving the captain a short, furtive look.
"And neither do we, human. But since your subordinate seems to enjoy it so much, we figured that you would as well. Oh, but we … decided to make everything a bit more interesting, so to speak."

Geran just looked at him in a mixture of suspicion and surprise, and motioned Hanar to get the ranger to his feet, which the other man did only to willingly, jerking Aragorn upright by his bound arms. The younger man suppressed a moan and closed his eyes, concentrated on figuring out what was going on around him. With a tremendous effort he pushed the confusion and light-headedness back, forcing himself to think. Legolas was acting as if he had a plan, and, who knew, perhaps he had indeed. But he didn't know that Gwemyr had escaped, so what was he planning? The young ranger almost gave a short, derisive snort. He had no faith whatsoever in the Lake-man's abilities to avoid capture, and even if he did manage to escape, there was no telling if he would do what he had told him…

He was still pondering this when he felt Geran step closer to him, and he suppressed a shudder that seemed to race across his back instinctively. He was beginning to really, really dislike this particular human. The other man grabbed him by his hair and forced his head back, pressing a dagger against his neck.
"Enough now, elf! Speak plainly, or I will cut his throat! What are you talking about?"

Legolas simply gave him a glare hotter than Orodruin's fires themselves, but only partly to experience the satisfaction of making the man avoid his eyes. Mainly it was to buy himself some more time, since he had absolutely no idea where he was going with this.

"Do it and you will never hear another word from me!" the elven prince spat, his eyes fixed on the knife that was being pressed against his human friend's neck. "If you hurt him, I swear by the all the Valar that you will never see one bit of that precious gold you have killed, betrayed and lied for! I can destroy it and all of you by lifting only one hand!" He forced himself to take his eyes off his friend's pale face and to fix them on Geran instead. "You like to live dangerously, don't you? Well then, how much are you willing to risk? A third of the treasure? More? All of it? Your life as well? Then, by all means, injure the ranger further and find out if I speak the truth or not!"

Geran seemed quite inclined to put the matter to the test, but it became clear that Legolas had assessed the men's characters correctly when Adruran stepped forward, sporting an expression that reminded the elf eerily of his father before he lost his temper.
"Put down the knife, Geran," he ground out between gritted teeth, apparently very close to strangling the other man. "You forget your place."

The younger man didn't turn to look at his captain, his eyes on the elf that was standing in front of them with an almost tranquil expression on his face that did not reflect his state of mind in the slightest. Legolas' eyes were fixed on his friend who looked at the elven prince past Geran's hand that still held the dagger to his neck, silver eyes clouded and filled with pain and confusion. The elf tried to convey an idea of his plans without words and looked hard at the man, urging him to be ready, to stay focused, but his friend's eyes were too glazed and unfocused to tell if he had understood what the prince had been trying to say.

All this took only a second, and Geran shook his head unwillingly, his hand tightening on the knife's hilt.
"No. No, he's bluffing, just like the last time. He has nothing, no plan, no reinforcements, nothing."

"That might very well be," Adruran agreed impatiently in an icy voice, grabbing the man's wrist and pushing it down, away from his captive's neck. "Yet it is not your decision to make. This treasure belongs to our lord, and you will not risk it like this."

He turned back to the elf who was still eyeing them with a sort of detached interest. "But it is my decision, Master Elf. I happen to agree with my lieutenant: You are stalling. I do not know why, or for what you are waiting, but I am thoroughly tired of it now. I will end this now, something which I should have done long ago!"

Adruran turned, and a second before he gave his men the sign to seize him, Legolas realised that this was it. They were calling his bluff, and Geran was right: He had nothing. Aragorn didn't look any stronger than before, and he had no way to get them out of this, no reinforcements, no elven army, only three injured horses that would only get killed with them. A few men were detaching themselves from the group and were quickly coming his way, although everything seemed to happen in slow motion to the elven prince.

He smiled slightly at his human friend, feeling nothing but regret that it had to end this way. Aragorn did not return the smile, and the man's eyes grew wide when he saw the almost weary acceptance in the elf's gaze. Legolas was apparently willing to give the men the fight they wanted, but he did not expect them to make it out of this alive. Deep down he knew that he should feel alarmed and frightened, but he was simply too tired and exhausted to really care. But still, if Legolas wasn't going without a fight, then neither was he, he thought defiantly, straightening his aching body.

Aragorn tried in vain to escape Geran's grip as he watched his elven friend open his mouth as if to call or whistle for someone when the men that were trying to take him captive were only a few feet away from him, but before Legolas could utter a single sound, a loud, sharp, deafening shout could be heard, yelled by many strong, dark voices.

"Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd aimênu!"

The sun chose this moment to rise in the East, appearing above the horizon in all her glory and bathing the lands in a brilliant light, almost blinding in its intensity.

Aragorn noted that the men and even his friend had frozen in surprise at the sudden interruption, and he smiled, staring at the radiant disk that illuminated the heavens with her light, chasing away the dark gloom of the night.

The dwarves had come after all.





TBC...





ada - father (daddy)
mellonamin - my friend
Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd aimênu! (Khuzdul) - Axes of the Dwarves! The Dwarves are upon you!





*grin evilly* Well, well, well ... at least the dwarves did arrive, right? That's something! *her alter ego rubs hands gleefully* Mhahahaha! Cliffy! *shakes head* Sorry about that, but I couldn't resist! You didn't really expect me not to put a cliffy here, did you? No, I guess not... Okay, the next chapter should be here on Wednesday, I think, and, finally, Hanar, Geran and their Merry Men are getting what they deserve! I know: About bloody time! *g* What about a small review to encourange me?! Please? Reviews help me to get the chapters out more or less on time! Honestly!! *g*

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Additional A/N:

I am very sorry, guys, but I really don't have time to reply to your WONDERFUL, AMAZING, BRILLIANT reviews today. We are having a small family crisis at the moment, and I don't think I would increase my popularity if I spent a few hours in front of the computer instead of talking about ... well, things that cannot be changed anyway. *sighs* Gosh, I hate it sometimes...

But really, I would probably find a steak knife in my laptop tomorrow morning if I'd stay here for much longer, and then I couldn't post the next bit! See? It's for your own good.. *g*

Thank you very, very much for all your reviews, you have probably no idea how much they do in fact encourage me. Without them I would have given up on these obstinate characters a long time ago! I promise I will reply to the next lot on Wednesday, I do! We swearsss it on the precioussss! *g*

Thanks so much for all your support, and I hope you understand!