*Siri reappears*
Hey everyone! Thanks for the FABULOUS reviews! *hugs all*
Lurker_elf: *laughs* PoorErynbenn! :D Yup! Talking and eating! Very true! *giggles* Yeah well as to the chickens, we simply couldn't help ourselves! Book-o-conspiracies?! LOL! Trust me I'm JUST as wacky! =D
w: HI! Oh I'm just so happy to see a review from you and finding out that we haven't failed miserably as authors! =D *proceeds to glow like an elf* Oh thank you w! Yes we really enjoyed writing our Rangers and I'm glad you like them! *whacks stupid Nwelmai* Yeah sorry about him slippin' in their, honestly I have NO clue what to do with them! ;)
Belothien: Yup. Rain is always a bad sign ;) *glows* I'm glad you're liking it Belothien! Ah yes, poor Meldir…we honestly didn't know everyone would like him so much! Honest! =)
fliewatuet: Okay the deal with Legolas. Basically the Nwelmai are in the Shadow World (or whatever you want to call it) and in that world they see elves in their full being, just like when Frodo was falling into darkness and he saw Arwen as a glowing angel; it is the same thing here, although to the Nwelmai Legolas looked like a super scary glowing warrior! =D
Mariana Nimeneth: *laughs* Legolas is George of the Jungle? Now that IS a scary thought! Let that be a lesson to you Legolas: Never ever NEVER slam into trees anymore! :D
Maranwe: Yeah I must admit I had a lot of fun with the mental picture of Legolas encountering a short hobbit lass all right! =D Sorry this is so late!
RainyDayz: *blinks* Wow! Thank you RainyDayz! Glad you liked it =D Oh and thank you for the plushies! :D *frowns* I don't see any squirrels or penguins! Are you sure you aren't seeing things? ;)
sabercrazy: Yeah! That song DOES work really well! Thanks for sharing!
Cassia: *eyes go round* Oh dear! What did we do now? *laughs* I can't WAIT to read this fic! It sounds like it's gonna be great! *laughs* Yeah hope you don't mind we um…borrowed your chickens there! We just couldn't help it! =D Oh I'm glad you liked Pansy, she sort of took on personalities of both my younger sisters I think! Except the hat ;)
Anarril: LOL! Yeah it was just a little deliberate there all right ;)
Hiro-tyre: ROTFL! Ah yes the list goes on and on, I think Legolas should get worried right about now! Oh I'm so glad you liked Pansy! I loved writing her! Yes well as you kind of all ready said, we purposefully set the Appledores very near the boarders of the forest so they know (*think* they know) all there is to know about the Rangers but yes, he is just a bit grouchy all right! He's got to work on that ;D Lindamar…well I must say you've come up with some really…interesting ideas there Hiro! =D
Well thank you all for being so patient and for all the wonderful feedback!
Now let's go visit the mysterious current occupants of the Really Dark Tower! =D
Yeah!
*bows out*
______________________________________________________________________________
Darkest Night
By Sarah and Hannah (Siri)
(disclaimers, explanations, and summaries
available at the top of chapter 1)
Chapter 5
Troublesome Relatives
A loud howling was the first thing that greeted the young man when he entered the underground den. An unusually loud howling. Firelight flickered on the blackened walls, and there was a nauseating smell of burned flesh penetrating the air as the human looked about for the source of the trouble.
"Dregrak!" he snapped, his voice like thin ice: warning the orc who stood up to be wary. The captain had no love for orc-kind and did not bother to hide it.
"Yes, Captain?" the orc rumbled. His filthy body came too close to suit his commander's taste, but the man did no more than deepen his frown.
"Who was that?"
The hideous creature toyed briefly with a tarnished brass ring that hung from his pointed ear and shrugged, "Sharzak. Runt went for Grebul's knife and got pitched into the cook pit; he had it coming."
Then the orc was nearly jerked off his feet as the captain's ungentle fingers suddenly hooked into the brass earring and pulled him close.
"Sharzak is mine, Dregrak! And I ordered you to send him to me when he returned. Now bring him and Grebul here at once or I'll wrench your unlistening ear off and wear it around my neck. Does that penetrate?" Ignoring the guttural croakings of pain, the human cast the orc to the ground and stood waiting, impassively, as the creature went immediately in search of the two others that his captain wanted.
Only when Dregrak was out of sight did the young man let a scowl of complete revulsion cover his face. Taking a cloth from his belt, he wiped his hands upon it to rid them of the orc's filth. He would use orcs because his lord insisted, and because there were no other men at hand, but he trusted them only as far as he could throw twenty of them in one heave. Excluding brute strength, they were practically useless. Except for Sharzak, perhaps…
Dregrak returned promptly, the hulking form of Grebul just behind him, and Sharzak slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
"Put him down," the captain demanded, his flint-like gray eyes turning their most deadly as he stabbed Grebul with a look. The large orc twitched; it had taken only a few strategic deaths for the orcs to gain a careful respect for their captain. The young man did not stoop as he looked over the smaller orc's condition. The smell of scorched flesh was almost paralyzing, and shining black patches stood out rank and smoking on the orc's rough skin — burning leather mingling with flesh where the flames had ignited his badly tanned jerkin.
"Grebul, you threw Sharzak in the fire," the captain remarked coolly, his words not asking for a reply.
Grebul make a low choking sound in the back of his throat but said nothing. His small, yellow eyes twitched about and his clawed hands groped at his side, fondling the grotesque hunting trophies hanging from his belt.
He didn't see the blade coming — he merely died.
Wiping the black scum from his sword upon the back of the now decapitated orc, the captain turned to Dregrak, gesturing to the body, "You can have that, but stay a moment." He turned to the smaller orc, "Sharzak?"
A keening, sniveling sound broke from the orc's lips, but his washed-out green eyes slid open and he choked out, "Ca-aptain?"
"Why did you come back?"
"They… they are —erk— gather —kglergk— weapons and… to send …" he trailed off into a bout of coughing.
"You are sure?" the young man asked impassively.
The orc nodded silently, curling inwards with pain.
"Dregrak, give him some brew and make sure he's left alone," the captain instructed, turning about to go. "And be sure you don't keep Grebul all to yourself." As the man left the chamber and reentered the tower itself, his eyes closed again with disgust as the sounds of merrymaking echoed up to him. Grebul's demise would be perceived as an unexpected treat. Long had these orcs and their spawn been roaming the Misty Mountains, and their habits were as well known and as set as they were repulsive.
The young man climbed the now familiar black stairs with heavy steps, his broad shoulders stooping as under the weight of the very air about him. He breathed, his heart beat within his chest, but about him all was dark and thick with the sense of… something. //Why,// he wondered, //did he choose to stay here? Could he not work in any other room?// It was the closest he had come to admitting fear of anything since his lord had first told him of the tower.
At the door he straightened, his face altering to a carefully respectful expression, and he raised a strong hand to knock upon the heavy black door. There was no response but the door was opened promptly and he bowed as the tall figure gestured him in.
"Sire," he began, but was halted mid-sentence by a curt gesture and he wisely fell silent and waited. He had interrupted Lord Kallomore in the midst of Reaching. His beasts were on the move somewhere.
In appearance, Kallomore seemed to sleeping upon his feet, but he was moving easily about the dark chamber as though his eyes were open and behind his eyelids his young captain could see the black pupils racing to and fro, as if swiftly tracking the movements of invisible armies. The dark haired lord moved to stand beside the window, his long, colorless hand resting flat upon the sill.
The captain stood where he had been halted, motionless as a statue. For many long minutes there was silence until at last a faint hiss escaped his lord and Kallomore's gray eyes opened.
"Captain Eression," he spoke without moving his gaze from the young man's face and pressed his lips into a thin line of approval when the captain did not flinch or look away. "Is there a problem?"
"Perhaps," Eression said evenly, avoiding any appearance of concern. "You spoke once of Imladris and suggested the lord of that valley might intrude upon our affairs."
"I did," Kallomore agreed, moving with a fluid-like ease across the room, pouring himself a glass of dark red wine and examining it with care, looking all the while out of the corner of his eye at his captain. "What of it?"
"My spy says he has seen movement," Eression explained.
If Kallomore was thinking that the young man intended to ask him directly what to do about the elves, he was proved wrong. Having given the information and implied the question, Eression lapsed into respectful silence.
"History does indeed repeat itself," Lord Kallomore mused, taking a slow drink of his wine and setting the glass down again. "Had it not been for the meddling of immortals in the affairs of mortals this tower might have been unleashed long ago. But no matter to us should they stir themselves — I have already conceived a snare for Lord Elrond. He will not dare come against us."
"Yes, sire," Eression nodded. "Will you have need of me?"
Kallomore had moved on to stand in front of the smooth black wall, his fingers reaching to caress the hairline crack that still split the glassy surface. Now he nodded slowly and deliberately, the tones of his voice like curling smoke, "Yes, Captain. You and your orcs. No matter how devious in hunting, the Nwelmai can only kill."
Legolas might have protested Aragorn's insistence that they regroup with the others if it had not been for Farmer Appledore arriving to sharpen his scythe.
The hobbit answered good-humoredly enough the few direct questions Legolas put to him about the coming harvest, but he kept a watchful eye on Aragorn the whole while and he had the farming implement none too subtly at hand when Pansy came in. All this Aragorn accepted as normal and he made efforts not to look directly at either the hobbit or his daughter, but the atmosphere was strained and soon Legolas could tell there would be no peace for Aragorn until they departed.
It was still overcast outside and there was a hint of dampness in the air. Appledore saw them to the edge of his land, seemingly unaware of the helping hand the elf gave his friend as they made their way over the stile. Aragorn smiled faintly and did not bother to mention that he already felt very much better. Legolas would never believe him and Appledore might misinterpret his meaning.
"Farewell, sir," the hobbit nodded, his browned face pleasant as he bobbed his head briefly to Legolas, and added as an afterthought to Aragorn, "You seem well enough this morning. Come now Pansy, Domo."
The children had trailed in Appledore's shadow and now Domo darted back towards the house; Pansy instead waited expectantly and her father hoisted her lightly onto his shoulders. Even with their heights combined, the two hobbits came only just to Aragorn's chest, but there was a comfortable sureness in the farmer's steps and as he went back into the barn he began to hum a cheerful song about mugs of ale in winter. The possible troublemaker had left his land and he could return to his work in peace.
With one last glance at the small farm, the elf and the human started back into the wood.
They traveled without speaking for several minutes, the only sounds being those of their feet in the leaves. Aragorn glanced to the side, unable to see his friend's face beneath the concealing hood. "Legolas, you may stop glaring on my behalf now."
The elf's words were carefully nonchalant, "How did you know I was glaring?"
Aragorn snorted dryly, "I could feel the heat. Truly, his suspicions cannot be easily disqualified: they live closer to wild parts than most hobbits and he has a family he must protect. Besides, do I not look like a chicken thief?"
The elf chuckled and removed his hood, shaking his head at old memories. "Where might these Dúnedain of yours have gone now?"
The ranger shrugged, "It is hard to say. We do not generally travel in such large numbers as you saw when you arrived, and the attack will likely have divided them up. These creatures have an aptitude for such tactics." Aragorn's eyes grew distant as he added under his breath, "I hope nothing has happened."
It took them much of the day to find their way back to the last campsite, but as Aragorn had intimated, it was deserted: not a man remained. However, all the gear was gone as well, and that seemed hopeful. Aragorn traveled around the clearing's edge, searching for clues of their whereabouts, and found a few marks that led deeper into the trees. These he followed until they reached a small stream and he gave a soft sound of frustration.
"I need to speak to Halbarad about not training them so well," the Dúnadan shook his head.
"It would certainly be easier," a voice came softly from the weeds. Bartho and Erynbenn rose from concealment, putting away their bows as they approached; it was Erynbenn who had spoken and he smiled briefly before relapsing into sober maturity.
"We returned in search of you," Bartho explained, gesturing back across the stream, "and the lad needed more practice with stealth." Here he gave the young man a glance and Legolas almost fancied a hint of a twinkle was hidden in the dark gray eyes.
"I was getting restless and hindering Halbarad," Erynbenn said honestly. "Bartho brought me to keep me out of trouble."
"What of the others?" Aragorn asked.
"Halbarad was collecting them together — we were all scattered by the attack," the older Dúnadan explained. "If you'll follow us, we can save you the trouble of tracking him." The words were dry, but not teasing.
"A good suggestion," said Aragorn. "How did the fight run with you?"
"As well as might be expected," Bartho replied, starting back over the stream with Erynbenn walking easily beside him. The lightness of the young man's steps presented an interesting contrast to Bartho's steady tread. "A few men injured — Malvegil especially — still none dead. Idhrin might have been, but Lord Elladan and Lord Elrohir drew the third one away from him and led it on a chase into the trees. Several of us," here he glanced at Erynbenn, "went after them for fear they would find themselves outmatched when they finally turned to face it, but it outran us without much effort, and they must have still been ahead of it if it didn't stop. Neither had returned when we rejoined Halbarad."
Legolas cast a glance at Aragorn, but though the ranger frowned, he did not seem unduly worried.
"They have fought one of these creatures alone before," Aragorn explained. "Likely they will have already returned to camp; it's now well past dawn."
Bartho shot a expert look at the sky, "Aye, but not promising. More rain before evening, I expect. We'd best go quickly."
An hour later they came upon another small clearing, this one surrounded by younger trees than those elsewhere in the wood. At the center lay a sprawling pile of masonry that had once been a sort of small guard outpost. The tower had been short enough when standing — now only a portion of the square base remained intact with broken carvings of eagles perched at each of the four corners. From the entrance Halbarad appeared, his expression loosening into a smile when he saw four figures approaching.
"You found them," the Dúnadan greeted Bartho, who inclined his head but did not reply. Halbarad moved over to them, apparently not expecting an answer, and rested his hand briefly on Aragorn's shoulder. "We have lost no one."
"I am glad," Aragorn nodded, his eyes saying much more than the words themselves. "Have my brothers returned?"
Halbarad's face clouded, "I fear they have not, but there is time yet in the day. If they lured the creature far, it would take a while to walk back."
"You are right," the ranger acknowledged, feeling a faint dizziness steal over him. His wound was still painful and he moved to sit down upon a chunk of stone before he revealed his condition. "Halbarad, what more can we do? We cannot keep fighting like this. Even on the nights when the creatures do not appear we lose sleep through over-watchfulness, and when they come we are already wearied. Sooner or later someone will be slain, and though we may pray Ilúvatar it be later… what then?"
Halbarad took a seat beside him and Legolas leaned easily against a tree, watching the lowering skies above.
"I do not know, Aragorn," the Dúnadan admitted and sighed. "I fear this is truly a thing beyond us, though I will not speak so to the others. All we can do is to fight and trust a solution will yet present itself; it is to be hoped that Lord Elrond will soon send us aid. And we cannot despair, whatever we do. What will the younger men do — what will Erynbenn do if we give up hope?" He gestured briefly at where the young ranger sat, his still sore leg propped up before him as he listened intently to a heavily bandaged Malvegil explaining the ways of mountain trolls.
"He seems to be frequently with Bartho and that has not altered his mood," Legolas pointed out.
Halbarad smiled, "Bartho predicts doom in good times as well as bad; it is well, for he keeps us from becoming lax in our duties. He has reasons, and we have learned to accept it from him: Erynbenn more than any of us. And I have yet to see Bartho truly despair, even when his predictions are at their most dire."
A soft snort from Aragorn called their attention and he added, "When Erynbenn first joined us on patrol, Bartho looked him in the eye and said quite calmly, 'You look as though you could survive at least a few years, with some instruction.' He meant it as a compliment in his own way, but the poor lad looked horrified."
Halbarad chuckled at the shared memory and rose, "It is well you told Erynbenn about Lindamar. I'd best go find some wood for a fire before the rain comes. No, Aragorn, sit inside and rest; if you aggravate that injury now you'll be several days in recuperating and we can't afford that. Legolas, take him in."
Legolas waited to see if Aragorn would come without urging and to the elf's surprise, he did — shaking his head in disbelief at Halbarad's perception.
Inside the base of the tower it was cool. Green moss grew between the joints in the masonry and trailing vines snaked their way in through old loopholes and windows. For a long while the two friends rested quietly, recovering their strength as the light began to fade and a distant sound of thunder was heard. Aragorn began to shift restlessly and the elf cast about for something to distract him, asking him at last, "How came this tower to be built here? Was it a watchtower?"
Aragorn shook his head, "Not really; it was too short and in a poor position for that. It was built by men of Cardolan when their own country and Rhudur were in disagreement about the holding of Amon Sû l, or Weathertop. It was a small gesture of defiance and perhaps a move towards forceful taking of Amon Sû l; but it never came to fruition. The Witch King intervened. When Cardolan was laid waste this tower was knocked down like everything else, and here it still rests. A monument to ancient disputes." His tone was distracted, as if his mind were not really upon the words he was speaking. He rose and moved to the doorway, the dim light silhouetting him as his hand rested against the lintel.
Abruptly he asked, "Why must it always be my relatives that cause so much trouble?"
Legolas shook his head doggedly, "It is not your fault that your ancestors quarreled."
Aragorn glanced over his shoulder as if in surprise before nodding out towards the woods with a grimace, "I was speaking of my brothers."
"Oh!" Legolas rose and moved to stand beside him. "Perhaps they feel they owe it to you for all the trouble you have caused them through the years."
"Perhaps, but they have neglected to consider Father in their calculations of debt," the ranger pointed out. "He's had more than enough trouble from all three of us and I do not wish to bear him ill news of them. I'm going to find them."
"Might they not take offense at that?" Legolas asked with a smile.
"They may take offense if they choose," Aragorn shrugged, pulling his cloak once more over his worn overcoat and refastening his bow and quiver to his back. "But if we are speaking of scores that need settling, my going into the woods and rain to search would seem fitting indeed."
TBC…