Sorry it's been so long since I last posted. Thanks for your many kind reviews!
Chapter 5: First Blood
Aragorn looked out at the sea of expectant faces. He gazed past them toward the bright horizon, casting his thoughts back in time. He remembered nightfall in Raven Pass and hunting the orcs, an enemy whose ways were unknown to him. He thought of the apprehension in Legolas's face beside him in the darkness and the anger on Glorfindel's when he found them. "I cannot lead you," he said softly, turning back to his uncle.
"What?" Diranarth grasped his arm tightly. "Do you know what you're saying?"
"I do."
"You are the Chieftain now. If you do this, you risk losing the respect of the men."
"What respect will they have for me if my first command ends in disaster? I have never hunted wolves before, nor do I know your fighting style." He shook his head, his clear eyes locked on the older man's. "If I lose respect because of this decision, then so be it. Their lives are more important than my vanity."
Aragorn imagined he saw a small smile flash in his uncle's eyes. "Very well, then." Diranarth faced the crowd and spoke in a loud voice. "Though you have sworn fealty to Aragorn today and he is our Chieftain, it is his wish that I lead until he knows our ways better. Cirbarad, prepare a party of two dozen. We leave within the hour." Cirbarad nodded and began selecting the hunters. The crowd of Dunedain dispersed, leaving the small square almost empty in a matter of moments.
"I'll gather our things," Legolas said to Aragorn. "It may be a long trip." He and the twins headed back to Diranarth's house.
"Halbarad, come here, lad!" Diranarth said. The boy who had warned them of the wolves was standing in the same place, hands still braced on his thighs. He looked like he could fall down at any moment, but he gamely obeyed when he heard his leader's voice. Tired dark eyes looked up at Aragorn, but there was curiosity in them as well. "This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, our Chieftain," Diranarth said. He turned to Aragorn. "This boy, a little the worse for wear at the moment, is Halbarad, Cirbarad's youngest."
Aragorn dropped to one knee. "I am glad to meet you, Halbarad," he said.
Halbarad stared at him in wonder.
"I know you are tired," Diranarth said, clapping the boy on the shoulder and jolting him back to the present, "but we need you to go with us and show us where your party was set upon. Can you do this?"
Halbarad nodded. "Aye, my lord," he said softly.
"Good lad! Go and rest now, while you may." They watched the boy stumble off in the direction of his father's house. Diranarth sighed and shook his head. "Aragorn, will you come with me? I would speak with you before we depart."
"Of course."
Together they made their unhurried way back to Diranarth's house. "There is little I can tell you of fighting wolves," the older Ranger said as they walked. "Real knowledge is gained by experience, but I will advise you now as best I may. First, it is useless to attack a pack of them, for they are quick and hard to encircle. Better to draw them to you. When that happens, we form a circle with an arm span between each man. Any closer and you risk wounding each other, any farther apart and wolves might break through the defense. Understand?"
"Yes."
Diranarth stopped and grasped his nephew's arm. "Do not," he said, "under any circumstances, leave your place in the circle." He said no more for a moment, but Aragorn knew what he was thinking. There were only two reasons a man would break the formation: either because he was goaded into pursuing a wolf, or because he was fleeing in fear. "If you leave the circle we will not be able to protect you, and the men on either side of you will be compromised."
"I will not break the circle." Serious gray eyes met Diranarth's gaze steadily.
Diranarth smiled at him and resumed walking. "No," he said, "I believe you will not. But a wolf attack is hard to endure, so prepare yourself for the worst. There is no limit to the creatures' savagery."
"What if a man is wounded?"
"If a man falls, we close the circle around him so the wolves can't drag him away. Although many are wounded, we have few deaths because we go to great lengths to protect the fallen. It is the custom of our people to fight for each other so valiantly." There was a hint of pride in the older man's voice as he said this.
They reached the door of Diranarth's house and ran into Elrohir coming out with his pack. "Hurry up, Young Lord Sluggard!" He winked at Aragorn as he passed, hoisting the heavy satchel over his shoulder as he headed for the stables.
"The sons of Lord Elrond are remarkable," Diranarth said, raising his eyebrow. "One moment they are as old as mountains, the next as giddy as young colts."
"He knows the danger we will face and he doesn't want me to be afraid." Aragorn looked after his brother fondly. "That's why he speaks so foolishly." He started to enter the house, then turned on the threshold. "I will do my best, Uncle." Without waiting for a response, he ducked through the door and was gone.
Diranarth stood for a moment more in the sunlight, then followed his nephew into the darkness of the house.
# # #
I will do my best. That was what he had told Diranarth, what he had promised to do. Now, standing between his uncle and Elladan in the battle-circle, surrounded by what seemed to be a churning sea of dark bodies, his stomach clenched with sick fear, Aragorn held on to those words with a resolution born of desperation.
They had not expected such a large number of wolves. The size of the pack had obviously increased since the Rangers had been attacked a few days before. Diranarth and his men were not caught completely unaware and unprepared, though. As soon as Elladan and Elrohir ran into their camp with the news that the pack was on its way, the Rangers stoked the fire and gathered their weapons. Diranarth ordered the circle to be formed, carefully choosing where each man would be placed. Aragorn didn't need to ask why he was between his uncle and his brother. He knew that he and Halbarad, who stood between Cirbarad and Elrohir, were the weakest links, the ones who needed the most protection. At another time the realization would have rankled, but Aragorn admitted to himself that Diranarth was, unfortunately, right in his assessment. The howling of the wolves sent a shiver of fear through him and he set his teeth, trying to school his features to be as calm and impassive as Elladan's.
Legolas was the only one that didn't take a place in the circle. Instead, he knelt on a tree branch above the men's heads, his bow drawn. From this position he could take in the situation much better than those on the ground and could call down advice and warnings to the beleaguered Rangers.
Howling and snapping their teeth, the wolves leaped upon the encircled men. Legolas's bow sang as he loosed arrow after arrow into the fray. Elladan swept the head off the first wolf that jumped toward his youngest brother, but after that the fight became fiercer and he could only look to his own defense.
A large, gray wolf sprang at Aragorn, surprising the young man with its strength. Hot, rancid breath brushed his cheek as he staggered back a pace, trying to absorb the creature's momentum. The weight of the beast was far greater than he had anticipated, and his arm shook with the effort of holding those yellow, snapping teeth from his throat. Suddenly, he felt the wolf shudder and the burning eyes, too close to his own for comfort, dimmed. The creature's carcass slid to his feet as Diranarth wrenched his blade free. Wordlessly, he steadied his nephew and Aragorn shot him a grateful look. There was time for nothing more. Aragorn squared his shoulders and widened his stance, readying himself for the next attack. When it came he was prepared for the bone-shaking impact and dispatched the wolf with a quick blow to the throat.
On they fought, until Aragorn was drenched in sweat in spite of the chill in the air. His sword arm felt almost too heavy to lift. Grimly, he wondered how many more times he could hold off such desperate attacks. Practicing with his brothers had never been like this. There was a dull ache behind his eyes and his vision blurred for a moment. It was in that instant, as he shook his head in a vain effort to clear it, that he heard Legolas's shout from above.
"There's a wolf in the circle!"
In the clamor of the fray, had he missed the child's scream? It seemed to Aragorn that time stopped as he looked over his shoulder and saw a massive wolf standing over Halbarad, who had been pushed to the ground. Elrohir and Cirbarad were both engaged in fierce battles of their own and could not help the boy who lay on his back, frozen with fear. Aragorn's breath caught in his throat as he realized he would never reach Halbarad in time.
Then the huge wolf raised its head and their eyes locked. Aragorn made no movement, but the wolf snarled and bared its fangs. Fire burned deep in its eyes. Aragorn's own widened in wonder as he realized the creature's intentions. Ignoring the easy prey at its feet, the wolf bounded across the circle toward him.
The beast moved like the wind, but there was one who was faster. Aragorn was pushed backwards as Legolas dropped from the tree into the path of the charging wolf. Wolf and elf went down in a tangle. Legolas plunged his knife deep into the beast's side, but the wolf fought on with mad ferocity. Flailing claws caught the elf's shoulder, ripping though his tunic into flesh. Still Legolas held the beast tightly as Aragorn drove his sword though its eyes, spattering them both with blood.
"Let go, Legolas!"
The elf still clung to the filthy, matted fur, his eyes shut and his breathing fast. Aragorn sheathed his sword with a curse and shook his friend.
"It's dead, Legolas. Let go now!"
"Calm down, lad." Aragorn looked up to find Diranarth by his side. Seeing the death of their leader, the remaining wolves had scattered. "He doesn't need you screaming at him. See? He's fine."
Aragorn sank to his knees, his legs shaking too much to stand, as Legolas opened his eyes. The elf smiled wanly and slowly sat up. "I'm sorry, Estel." Blood flowed freely down his arm and he pressed his hand to the wound. "I only needed a moment to collect myself. I didn't mean to frighten you."
"Frighten me?" Aragorn pulled the prince into a fierce hug. "Whatever would make you think I was frightened?" he whispered.
# # #
While Elladan and Elrohir pursued the fleeing wolves, the rest of the group settled into camp for the night half a mile from the scene of the battle. There were many minor hurts, but no serious injuries. Aragorn was amazed the wounds were so slight, considering how hard the men had been pressed. He realized how much was owed to the wisdom of the Rangers' tactics and his uncle's cool head.
Legolas had sustained the worst injury, and Aragorn refused to rest until he looked at it. Although he had doubts about his ability to heal serious wounds, he had helped his father patch up the twins enough to feel confident he could stitch his friend's shoulder.
"I'm not sure I want someone with shaking hands to push a needle through my skin," Legolas teased.
Aragorn realized his hands were still trembling. "Sorry. I can't control such things as well as an elf." As soon as he said the words, he regretted them. His headache made him irritable and he felt almost too exhausted to move.
"Estel," Legolas frowned, leaning closer, "you did well today. There's no reason to be defensive. Only a few moments ago, didn't Cirbarad thank you for saving his son?"
"He did, but he shouldn't have." Aragorn wiped his forehead, feeling hot and foolish. "I didn't draw the wolf away from Halbarad. I didn't do anything. It was as if the wolf knew me and wanted me, if that makes any sense. When it looked at me I couldn't look away. Anyway," he muttered, "by that time I was almost too tired to protect myself, much less engage in heroics."
"I know. Why do you think I left the tree?"
"You could tell I was nearly spent?"
Legolas nodded. "And I had no more arrows. It seemed the only way."
Aragorn squeezed his friend's hand. "I seem to always be getting you into trouble."
"And out of it. For someone on the verge of collapse you certainly dispatched that wolf when it had me."
Aragorn smiled weakly, but it didn't extend to his eyes.
"I think perhaps you are still nearly spent," Legolas said. "You should rest. One of the others can tend me…"
"No."
The elf's eyes narrowed as he studied the young man's flushed features. "You're ill, aren't you?"
Aragorn ducked his head, trying to busy himself threading the needle. He ground his teeth in frustration as his eyesight blurred, making the task impossible.
"Estel!"
"Yes," he whispered. "I think I am, Legolas. Don't mention it to the others, though. I want to ride back to Fornost with dignity, not carried in a litter."
"Do you think that really matters to the Rangers?"
"I don't know. Maybe. It matters to me."
Legolas sighed. "You are a very stubborn human. Here," he gestured to the needle. "Let me thread that. The sooner you finish tending me, the sooner I can see to you. You need something warm to eat and sleep. I don't know much about human illnesses, but perhaps you will be better in the morning."
# # #
When morning came Aragorn felt worse, but he hid it from the men as best he could. He was grateful his brothers were still following the wolves, since he felt sure they would notice something was wrong. The four-day ride back to Fornost seemed like the longest journey of Aragorn's life. Sometimes he dozed in the saddle, jerking awake as soon as he started to slump onto Legolas, who made a point of constantly riding by his side. At night he slept fitfully, disturbed by the heat burning inside him and the memory of a wolf with fiery, knowing eyes.
Finally, the tired party reached their destination. As they drew close to Fornost, Aragorn counted each step his horse took, his eyes fixed on the gate that swung slowly open.
"Home at last, eh, lad?" Diranarth said heavily as they passed through. "All alive and well. Whatever else, that makes the hunt a success!"
"All alive and well," Aragorn echoed as he slid from his saddle. But his legs buckled under him and he fell to the ground before Legolas, who sprang from his horse, could catch him.
