Author: Mirrordance

Title: Tempus Edax Rerum ("Time, the Devourer of All Things")

Summary: The Fellowship of the Ring runs across a time-traveling Legolas of the future whose mission is, strangely, to keep them from succeeding…

PART SIX: Deceptions

Down the River Anduin

February 16, 3019, the Third Age

      The sound of the boats as they quietly shifted away from the banks of the river and swayed gently with its steady currents was quiet and comforting as the fellowship rode them, away from the safety of Lorien and towards their path beyond, obscured by the thick morning mists as surely as it was muddled with uncertainty.

      The dwarf, however, was aggrieved by something other than their leave of Lorien and its guarded borders; he sighed and the boat he shared with Legolas and Greenleaf shook with it, as he lamented having to tear his eyes away from Lady Galadriel.

      The compact dwarf sat between the two elves, to keep the boat literally and figuratively balanced.  His bulk spelled the distance between the awkward Legolases and was as much a physical boundary, as a psychological, most-welcome distraction.

      Aragorn, from the boat that traveled alongside theirs, watched in amusement as the lips of the identical elves quirked at exactly the same instance.

      "I asked for one hair from her golden head," said Gimli, "She gave me three!"

      "She gave me a bow of the Galadhrim," shared Legolas, "and the hobbits daggers and ropes."  He stopped short of asking Greenleaf what he got, and this was a question Gimli picked up and worded for him.

      "She gave me her trust," Greenleaf said after a moment of thought, That which I most needed, specifically because he felt that time was near running out for him to take the Ring, and only he knew it.  The Fellowship was soon to break, and there would lie his best chance to forcibly obtain the Ring, if he still cannot convince them by the time they reach Parth Galen.

* * *

      "If I had me a machine—"

      "Pip!" Merry protested, the length of the river ride has long since waned his excitement, coupled with Pippin's incessant chatter.  He shared his boat with Boromir, who paddled, and Pippin who…talked.  Merry glanced at the large man, who seemed distracted and deep in thought.  The further along their journey he went, the more distant he seemed, and it worried the perceptive hobbit.  Any being that cannot be diverted from their worries by the thrice-more-troublesome Pippin must have an awful lot in his mind indeed.

      "Boromir, are you scared?" Merry asked him, peering at his face.

      The man flashed him a quick, apologetic smile, "We all are at times, Merry.  Even the bravest of us."

      "What are you thinking about?" Pippin asked, playing absently with the water, twirling his fingers at the swirls they made as they moved through it.

      "Many things," replied Boromir, "my home, which we are nearing.  The danger that lies alongside of it.  The peril we will be making our way through."

      "Worse than Moria?" Pippn inquired.

      "Far worse," said Boromir, "We will be delving into the very realm of Sauron himself."  The two hobbits mulled this over, as Boromir deigned to tell them of the dangers that have long been stirring inside his own heart, tormenting his mind; that the Fellowship lain under perils closer than Mordor, more from the inside than out.

      "If I had me a machine that sends me all across time whenever I want…" Pippin began.  And this time, Merry did let him continue of these words that mattered less, and tore the mind away from its greater fears.

* * *

Parth Galen

February 26, 3019, the Third Age

* * *

      The Fellowship paddled towards the western shores of the Anduin, making camp at Parth Galen even as Legolas felt the stirrings of orcs about and desired to hasten their departure.  He would glance at Greenleaf once in awhile, always as if on the verge of asking if indeed his feelings would eventually prove to be true, and yet always holding his tongue and keeping his distance.

      Greenleaf would meet his intent gaze but would say nothing, occupied by his own worries.  The Fellowship was near breaking.  If he cannot convince them to trust him soon, the best time to forcibly take the ring would be when only Sam and Frodo were about, for he can assault them easily without harming them too much, and take the ring without having to battle the mightier members of the fellowship, such as Gimli, Aragorn, Boromir or Legolas himself.

      The thought of the deception tore at him, and he kept his quiet and distance, needing the solitude.  He stood apart from the others and occupied himself with the making of a camp that he knew would be futile in only moments.

      "We cross the lake at nightfall," Aragorn declared, "Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north."

      Gimli protested, long having an idea of the dangers of their route, but the long river ride giving him the time to seriously consider them, such that he now found the idea to be profoundly disagreeable.  Aragorn, however, would not be dissuaded, even by Legolas' urging that they must leave at once and with great haste. 

      "Orcs patrol the eastern shore," Aragorn reasoned, "We must wait for cover of darkness."

      "It is not the eastern shore that worries me," Legolas told him gravely, quietly, "A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near.  I can feel it."

      "Where's Frodo?" Merry suddenly asks, looking about worriedly.  The rest of the fellowship did the same, and more than a few pair of eyes rested against Boromir's shield, lying with his baggage and for once not in his presence, for the man himself was gone.

      Legolas' eyes shot towards Greenleaf, who was looking at him gravely, and knowingly.  Setting his jaws, the younger elf turned away and headed towards the forest that lined the banks of the river, determined to look for Boromir and Frodo.

      The other members of the fellowship scattered to do the same, but Greenleaf stayed where he was, and even sat calmly before the water, watching its tiny stirrings with a hard heart.

* * *

      "None of us should wander alone, you least of all," Boromir said to the Ringbearer, finding him amidst the woods, "So much depends on you. Though I do know why you seek solitude. You suffer, I see it day by day. You sure you do not suffer needlessly? There are other ways, Frodo, other paths that we might take."

      "I know what you would say. And it would seem like wisdom but for the warning in my heart," said Frodo cautiously.  It was this same warning in his heart that allowed him to know to a certainty that being alone with Boromir and his lost eyes and his anguished despair guaranteed trouble, one that he wanted desperately to flee from.

      Such a danger was not lost upon their solitary watcher.  Legolas hid amidst the woods, observing and listening to the exchange with burning eyes and feet that ached to approach them, to cease what he perceived would soon be an embittered exchange.  But if he did not expressly trust Greenleaf, he at least trusted his knowledge of the future, and he held his ground, wondering what relevance this confrontation would eventually hold for the future of Middle-Earth.

      Legolas tensed as Boromir stepped towards Frodo saying, "If you would but lend me the ring…"

      "No," said Frodo, backing away.

      Legolas held his breath as he watched Boromir's eyes flare in a great hunger, his voice begin to rise, his spirit begin to sink, "What chance do you think you have? They will find you! They will take the Ring and you will beg for death before the end!"

      Frodo began to run away, and Boromir with his long stride easily overpowered the hobbit with his little legs, and tackled him, saying, "It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It could have been mine! It should be mine! Give it to me!"

      Legolas had to close his eyes for a moment, begging for strength from within him, wanting to interfere, fearing what would happen if he did, fearing what would happen if he didn't.  Such hesitations Greenleaf must have long harbored, and it made his mind reel and his heart ache. 

      Let Boromir do as he pleases, Greenleaf had said, but never tear your eyes away from him.  Do not let him die.  That is all that you must do, and nothing else…

      Why? Legolas wondered, as he watched the hobbit struggle, until he finally slid the ring into his fingers and vanished, leaving a despairing Boromir, who now hated what he had just done alongside his hatred of his gnawing helplessness.

      "What have I done…" Boromir whispered, his reason returning as he looked anxiously about him, "Frodo! Frodo!"

* * *

      The hobbit in question hurriedly removes the ring from a safe distance, and runs across Aragorn who worriedly inquires about him.

      "It has taken Boromir," he said mournfully.

      "Where is the ring?" Aragorn asked.

      "Stay away," Frodo told him shakily, the wounds of his heart from Boromir's attack still fresh, and deathly fearful.

      "I swore to protect you," Aragorn told him earnestly.

      "Can you protect me from yourself?" Frodo challenged, opening his palm up towards Aragorn challengingly.  Though it undoubtedly called upon his greatest hungers and teased at his most terrible needs, the Ranger reached towards Frodo's hands and clasped them over the Ring.

      "I would have gone with you to the end," Aragorn told him quietly, seeing in the hobbit's wide, scared but determined eyes what he meant to do, and comprehending it for all that it was worth, "Into the very fires of Mordor."

      "I know," Frodo said softly, "Look after the others, especially Sam.  He will not understand."

      Aragorn's eyes burned with steely resolve, just as he sensed orcs about, and hurriedly drew his sword.

      "Go on Frodo," he urged as the uruks came out towards them from the woodworks, "Run!"

* * *

      The hobbit dashed across the forest, the sense of his enemy's raging hot pursuit behind him lending fire to his step, desperation in his breath.  He ran and stumbled and rose and fell and never stopped, until he hid against an old log, finding Merry and Pippin similarly situated a few meters away.

      "Frodo!" Merry called, as he and Pippin urged the Ringbearer towards them.

      "Hide here, quick!" said Pippin insistently.

      Frodo could do no more but look at them in a pained farewell, wordless, aching for their company, all at once aching to leave them, understanding what he had to do.

      "What's he doing?" Pippin asked Merry, alarmed.

      Merry's eyes stayed upon the Ringbearer, knowing by his face what it all meant, and what he and Pippin must do in turn.

      "He's leaving," Merry concluded.

      "No," Pippin exclaimed, surging forward towards Frodo, except Merry grabbed him midway and told Frodo to run away, just before he flagged down the orcs that began to come towards their direction.

      "Hey!" he yelled, "Hey you! Over here!"
      Pippin joined him, not really immediately comprehending why, until the uruks turn towards them, and Merry began to pull him towards the direction opposite from Frodo's.

      "It's working!" Pippin said, knowing it was crazy and still feeling somewhat delighted that their plan was well at work.

      "I know its working!" Merry exclaimed, his voice near-shaking from his triumph and wild fear, "Run!"

      But two hobbits against a troupe of Uruk-hai was a massacre waiting to occur, at best.  And as the mighty beasts closed in around them, dread began to fill their pounding hearts, until Boromir charged in their defense.

      Meters behind him, Legolas could only watch, wondering where his responsibilities of letting things happen as they should would end, his fingers itching to make use of his bow.  And yet Greenleaf's words still haunted him, Do not let him die… that is all you must do and nothing else…

      The multitude of orcs had the upper-hand, despite the human's fierce strength and will.  Merry and Pippin did all that they could, and Legolas watched with tortured eyes, knowing most of their efforts would soon be futile.

      He ached to act, and yet he feared he would cause more harm than good.  And then distrust began to blossom in his torn heart, perhaps Greenleaf was merely deceiving him, confusing him, and would make him watch his friends die before his eyes, his hands never lifting to even try and save them, like a fool, like a useless idiot.

      Gritting his teeth, he drew his bow and decided to move, and just in time it was since he had spotted a particularly menacing uruk-hai releasing an arrow towards Boromir's heart.

      With unearthly precision that was the envy of even the most skilled of his kin, Legolas released an arrow of his own, and it captured the uruk's shaft along its path, splintering it in two and it exploded near to Boromir's stunned face.

      Running into the fray, Legolas downed a few more or the uruks, even as drove after drove of them attacked, taking Merry and Pippin with them and running, with more of their great mass blocking their escape as Boromir and Legolas struggled for pursuit, and then ultimately, just survival.

* * *

      Frodo emerged from the thick of the forest to where they had hidden the boats in front of the river, and found Greenleaf with his back to the hobbit, sitting by the banks and obviously awaiting his arrival.

      "You have come to take it from me," Frodo concluded, backing away cautiously and clutching at the ring, ready to wear it and hide and flee at a moment's notice.

      "I knew you would be by," Greenleaf said stonily, rising slowly and turning to face the Ringbearer, "This can be easy, or this can be really, very hard."

      "I will never give it to you," Frodo told him, "We are both of us on a mission, and mine is particularly prone to deception.  As surely as you cannot give up on your quest, I cannot give up mine.  You must understand that this ring will never fall into your hands as I live and breathe!"

       Greenleaf's eyes narrowed, but allowed Frodo the space he kept, as the two burdened heroes faced each other.  Cautiously, Frodo stepped towards the boats, just as Greenleaf moved closer to the brink of the forest, awaiting the arrival of Frodo's one weakness…

      Perfect to the timing, Sam emerged breathlessly from the woods in time for Greenleaf to grab him and clutch him tightly, pressing the gleaming blade of a mithril scimitar threateningly against his throat.

      "Give me the ring," Greenleaf told the Ringbearer, struggling to keep his voice cold and level, "Or the gods save me, I will cut him wide open!"

TO BE CONTINUED…