Series: Whispers in the Dark – Part 3
Pairing: Legolas/Aragorn
Rating: PG
Warnings: AU
Summary: The shadow has a name…
The Revelation
"*Nadorhuan*!" the stranger cried again, his voice rising in a howl that was born purely of rage and anguish as he closed the distance between them with terrifying speed. The King and his men drew their swords, their narrowed gaze fixing upon the charging figure in expectation of a violent confrontation.
And they were not disappointed.
With a roar, the strange figure fell upon them, his blade flashing before their eyes like lightning as steel clashed upon steel. The four males fought furiously – the men only managing to parry the potentially devastating blows while the stranger attacked and dodged so nimbly it was as if it were impossible to bring him down or even to mark him with their swords.
It seemed to last an eternity – time stood frozen where all their surroundings went unnoticed… nothing seem to be of any consequence but the escalating heat of the battle and the ceaseless barrage of thrusts and blows from the stranger until slowly but surely, the men began to tire and each downward fall of the stranger's blade upon their weapon was sheer agony.
It was Boromir who was forced to retreat from the fray when the stranger dealt a stunning blow to his face with a fist, nearly knocking him senseless. He paused for a moment, his face flushed from exertion and his breaths coming in great gasps. His experienced eyes settled upon the confrontation before him, heart beating wildly in his breast.
Already, from where he stood, he could see his brother struggling to fend off the stranger's attack, their assailant seemingly to be bent upon landing his deadly blows only upon Aragorn. And for that he was somewhat relieved because he knew that as long as Faramir stood his ground before their King, he would be able to prevent Aragorn from being hurt.
But even Faramir, who excelled in the art of sword fighting, will tire. And already, his brother showed signs of exhaustion which meant that Boromir had to think of something quickly or they will never escape the forest alive.
His quick gaze fell upon the forest floor, taking note of the sheathe belonging to Aragorn's sword lying forgotten amongst the fallen leaves. It was made of solid steel and he knew that it could withstand whatever abuse he was going to inflict upon it.
As quick as a flash, Boromir picked up the article and grasped it firmly in his hands. With a great cry, he rushed towards their attacker noting only that split second in time where their eyes met and the expression of disbelief that manifested itself in those strange blue eyes before smashing the sheathe against the side of the stranger's head.
There was a sudden silence – a heart stopping pause where nothing was heard save the wind in the trees and their deep breathings. A heart stopping moment where the stranger just stared into Boromir's eyes and Aragorn into Faramir's before the stranger dropped his weapon, those blue eyes fluttering close and then slumped to the ground, unconscious.
The men had won and each heaved an audible sigh of relief at the much welcomed reprieve.
Quickly, Faramir took out some ropes from his backpack and proceeded to bind the stranger's hands and legs in fear that he might awaken and would start attacking them again. When it was done, the men sank to the ground, panting loudly. Tired. Spent. And utterly confused.
"Miserable worm," Boromir muttered, his hand reaching up to his face to wipe a trail of blood away from the corner of his lips before spitting out more blood from his mouth in disgust.
Aragorn said nothing, his eyes settling upon the inert body before bending his head down to take a better look of the stranger's face.
"This is most extraordinary. He cannot have seen more than twenty winters and yet he has the strength and the agility of a seasoned warrior," Aragorn mused aloud, his gaze thoughtful and his brows furrowing in thought as was his usual when he came across something which was beyond comprehension.
"The strength and agility of *ten* seasoned warriors," Boromir corrected, his palm gingerly massaging the burgeoning lump on his head where the stranger's blow had found its mark.
Faramir kept silent, cocking his head as his keen eyes studied the fair features before he made an exclamation of surprise and utter disbelief.
"His ears! By the Gods… his ears! But how can it be? I thought that the last of them had faded into the West ages ago!" Faramir said, tripping over his words in his shock.
"What are you talking about?" Boromir said, his expression registering his astonishment at the expression upon Faramir's face – an expression that showed a mixture of awe and a certain amount of fear upon his handsome features.
Gently, Faramir turned the stranger's face to one side, revealing to the men a delicate ear with its oddly pointed tip – a clear indication that the stranger was no man but a creature that they had never ever seen before… till now.
"Well? What is it?" Boromir asked, his voice still incredulous, bewilderment marring his handsome face.
Aragorn leaned closer, his eyes sparkling with excitement as his fingers reached down to gently trace the outer shell of the stranger's ear.
"He is an Elf. Why had I not noticed it before?" Aragorn murmured, before a shadow seemed to pass across his face and he fell silent once more.
"But it cannot be! I have heard Gandalf telling stories of Elven Lords that had once roamed the earth in the Green Woods long ago… but thought that they were nothing more than myths!" Boromir said, his voice rising in confusion.
"And yet one of them lies before us now. Surely it shows that there is much truth to the tales Gandalf had spoken of," Aragorn answered, effectively silencing any protests that might have formed upon Boromir's lips.
There was a short silence before Faramir gave voice to the same thought that ran through the Men's mind at that very moment.
"What do we do now, my lord?" Faramir asked, "We cannot leave him lying here all tied up for he would perish and yet we cannot let him free for it is certain now that he will kill us the moment he wakes up."
"Just kill him and be done with it!" Boromir spat, "According to the laws of Gondor, if there ever was a Man who dared to threaten the King, he would face execution."
"Do not let anger take over reason, Boromir," the King answered, his gaze steady and reproachful at the same time. "The Elf cannot know the laws of Men and under no circumstances should we act upon something we have little knowledge of."
Boromir ducked his head in shame at being reprimanded by his King. "Forgive me, my lord," his said, his tone contrite and voice hushed, "I spoke in anger. I was not thinking."
The King laid a comforting hand upon his friend's shoulder, bestowing upon him a gentle smile.
"I know you are protective of me, my friend, so I am not angry with you."
And then he turned to address both the brothers, his face bearing the mark of a man who had already come to a firm decision.
"We will bear the Elf to Minas Tirith and there, we will call for Gandalf's aid to see if he can extract any kind of information from the lips of this creature. Come, my friends. Look to the deer and carry it back to our camp. I myself will bear the burden of the Elf. Let us leave the forest for the dawn has come and our people await our return," he said before he reached down to throw the unconscious Elf over his shoulder.
The brothers exchanged a look, each having reservations about the wisdom of the King's decision but kept their silence, bending down instead to tend to the dead carcass of the deer.
And together they made their way back to their camps while the sun brought forth a new morning, its golden light bathing the forest, chasing away the shadows and the gloom that had hours before dwelled in the darkness of the night…
to be continued…
Website: http://www.nimnastian.net/nessa
Update Info: http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/nessa_tulcakelume
Pairing: Legolas/Aragorn
Rating: PG
Warnings: AU
Summary: The shadow has a name…
The Revelation
"*Nadorhuan*!" the stranger cried again, his voice rising in a howl that was born purely of rage and anguish as he closed the distance between them with terrifying speed. The King and his men drew their swords, their narrowed gaze fixing upon the charging figure in expectation of a violent confrontation.
And they were not disappointed.
With a roar, the strange figure fell upon them, his blade flashing before their eyes like lightning as steel clashed upon steel. The four males fought furiously – the men only managing to parry the potentially devastating blows while the stranger attacked and dodged so nimbly it was as if it were impossible to bring him down or even to mark him with their swords.
It seemed to last an eternity – time stood frozen where all their surroundings went unnoticed… nothing seem to be of any consequence but the escalating heat of the battle and the ceaseless barrage of thrusts and blows from the stranger until slowly but surely, the men began to tire and each downward fall of the stranger's blade upon their weapon was sheer agony.
It was Boromir who was forced to retreat from the fray when the stranger dealt a stunning blow to his face with a fist, nearly knocking him senseless. He paused for a moment, his face flushed from exertion and his breaths coming in great gasps. His experienced eyes settled upon the confrontation before him, heart beating wildly in his breast.
Already, from where he stood, he could see his brother struggling to fend off the stranger's attack, their assailant seemingly to be bent upon landing his deadly blows only upon Aragorn. And for that he was somewhat relieved because he knew that as long as Faramir stood his ground before their King, he would be able to prevent Aragorn from being hurt.
But even Faramir, who excelled in the art of sword fighting, will tire. And already, his brother showed signs of exhaustion which meant that Boromir had to think of something quickly or they will never escape the forest alive.
His quick gaze fell upon the forest floor, taking note of the sheathe belonging to Aragorn's sword lying forgotten amongst the fallen leaves. It was made of solid steel and he knew that it could withstand whatever abuse he was going to inflict upon it.
As quick as a flash, Boromir picked up the article and grasped it firmly in his hands. With a great cry, he rushed towards their attacker noting only that split second in time where their eyes met and the expression of disbelief that manifested itself in those strange blue eyes before smashing the sheathe against the side of the stranger's head.
There was a sudden silence – a heart stopping pause where nothing was heard save the wind in the trees and their deep breathings. A heart stopping moment where the stranger just stared into Boromir's eyes and Aragorn into Faramir's before the stranger dropped his weapon, those blue eyes fluttering close and then slumped to the ground, unconscious.
The men had won and each heaved an audible sigh of relief at the much welcomed reprieve.
Quickly, Faramir took out some ropes from his backpack and proceeded to bind the stranger's hands and legs in fear that he might awaken and would start attacking them again. When it was done, the men sank to the ground, panting loudly. Tired. Spent. And utterly confused.
"Miserable worm," Boromir muttered, his hand reaching up to his face to wipe a trail of blood away from the corner of his lips before spitting out more blood from his mouth in disgust.
Aragorn said nothing, his eyes settling upon the inert body before bending his head down to take a better look of the stranger's face.
"This is most extraordinary. He cannot have seen more than twenty winters and yet he has the strength and the agility of a seasoned warrior," Aragorn mused aloud, his gaze thoughtful and his brows furrowing in thought as was his usual when he came across something which was beyond comprehension.
"The strength and agility of *ten* seasoned warriors," Boromir corrected, his palm gingerly massaging the burgeoning lump on his head where the stranger's blow had found its mark.
Faramir kept silent, cocking his head as his keen eyes studied the fair features before he made an exclamation of surprise and utter disbelief.
"His ears! By the Gods… his ears! But how can it be? I thought that the last of them had faded into the West ages ago!" Faramir said, tripping over his words in his shock.
"What are you talking about?" Boromir said, his expression registering his astonishment at the expression upon Faramir's face – an expression that showed a mixture of awe and a certain amount of fear upon his handsome features.
Gently, Faramir turned the stranger's face to one side, revealing to the men a delicate ear with its oddly pointed tip – a clear indication that the stranger was no man but a creature that they had never ever seen before… till now.
"Well? What is it?" Boromir asked, his voice still incredulous, bewilderment marring his handsome face.
Aragorn leaned closer, his eyes sparkling with excitement as his fingers reached down to gently trace the outer shell of the stranger's ear.
"He is an Elf. Why had I not noticed it before?" Aragorn murmured, before a shadow seemed to pass across his face and he fell silent once more.
"But it cannot be! I have heard Gandalf telling stories of Elven Lords that had once roamed the earth in the Green Woods long ago… but thought that they were nothing more than myths!" Boromir said, his voice rising in confusion.
"And yet one of them lies before us now. Surely it shows that there is much truth to the tales Gandalf had spoken of," Aragorn answered, effectively silencing any protests that might have formed upon Boromir's lips.
There was a short silence before Faramir gave voice to the same thought that ran through the Men's mind at that very moment.
"What do we do now, my lord?" Faramir asked, "We cannot leave him lying here all tied up for he would perish and yet we cannot let him free for it is certain now that he will kill us the moment he wakes up."
"Just kill him and be done with it!" Boromir spat, "According to the laws of Gondor, if there ever was a Man who dared to threaten the King, he would face execution."
"Do not let anger take over reason, Boromir," the King answered, his gaze steady and reproachful at the same time. "The Elf cannot know the laws of Men and under no circumstances should we act upon something we have little knowledge of."
Boromir ducked his head in shame at being reprimanded by his King. "Forgive me, my lord," his said, his tone contrite and voice hushed, "I spoke in anger. I was not thinking."
The King laid a comforting hand upon his friend's shoulder, bestowing upon him a gentle smile.
"I know you are protective of me, my friend, so I am not angry with you."
And then he turned to address both the brothers, his face bearing the mark of a man who had already come to a firm decision.
"We will bear the Elf to Minas Tirith and there, we will call for Gandalf's aid to see if he can extract any kind of information from the lips of this creature. Come, my friends. Look to the deer and carry it back to our camp. I myself will bear the burden of the Elf. Let us leave the forest for the dawn has come and our people await our return," he said before he reached down to throw the unconscious Elf over his shoulder.
The brothers exchanged a look, each having reservations about the wisdom of the King's decision but kept their silence, bending down instead to tend to the dead carcass of the deer.
And together they made their way back to their camps while the sun brought forth a new morning, its golden light bathing the forest, chasing away the shadows and the gloom that had hours before dwelled in the darkness of the night…
to be continued…
Website: http://www.nimnastian.net/nessa
Update Info: http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/nessa_tulcakelume