Thank you all for those wonderful reviews, and I must urge you to read Alida-Fruit's new story, Living Legends. It is positively hilarious and very enjoyable. Now, on with the show. ;)
Well Met Indeed
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Chapter 12 – Last the Night
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Can I save everyone whom I see
Can I save anyone, and can anyone save me?
There's fires all around me now
And I don't know what to do.
Do I save myself, or do I rescue you?
All I really need this night
Is to go back home and laugh
To see the world in a safe light
To see it in the past
But the fires keep on burning
And the screams keeps on sounding
I have to save the innocent
And all I need to do is last the night…
Yea, all I need is to last the night…
The heat, it was slowing him down. The intoxicating flames danced like orange silhouettes against the dark. Trails of smoke snaked up into the night sky, to join the mass of smoke above already. Aragorn found this fascinating. He caught himself one too many times, watching the dancing flames, which twisted and spun to their own secret beat that fell deaf on the man's ears.
It was stifling, this heat. It was hot enough to make Aragorn delusional, and the ashes and smoke choked the air. He covered the lower area of his face in vain, eyes watering from the smoke. He shook his head, cursing inwardly for his dizzy spell, and his anxious eyes searched for some trace of his friend, Legolas.
Both had raced towards the house of Arundel in hopes of rescuing their friends from their impending doom, and upon reaching the house, Legolas had disappeared. Aragorn had done what he thought was best and he had gone into the house alone.
"Arundel!" he shouted over the roaring of the fire. There was no answer, but the loud cracking of embers. "ARRYN!" he tried in hopes of reaching the small boy. The ranger's eyes grew darker with each call and suddenly he picked up a sound. It was the mewing of Jay, Arryn's kitten, and as Aragorn approached the cat, drawing his cloak away from the licking flames, Jay turned her wide, green eyes on him.
Her soft grey fur was scorched, colored with the ashes and soot. Aragorn leaned down, though slightly clumsy in his work because of the burning debris, the cat crept back, mewing loudly. Aragorn cursed and reached for the small cat again, and again it evaded his feeble attempt. She gave one last, irritated mew before darting upstairs. Jay circled back, and Aragorn hurried towards the cat, her message clear on him now… She wanted him to follow.
The weak stairs creaked as the man quickly followed, coughing. His eyes and nose stung from the never-ending smoke, but in a matter of seconds, Aragorn arrived at the small room upstairs. In the corner, Arryn sat bawling; his tiny face was covered in ashes. Aragorn hurried forward and took the small child in his arms.
"Arryn! Arryn!" he cried over the fire. The boy looked up, eyes and nose still running. Aragorn took note of the burns, though they were mild, and he asked the boy calmly, "Where is your mother, Arryn?" The child seemed at a loss, but after a short period of time, he stuttered, "M-mama? Mama is… Mama is in the k-kitchen."
Aragorn nodded grimly and he took the small boy in his arms, but Arryn pulled away, calling for Jay. The grey kitten raced obediently into his arms, and that was when the ranger swept the boy into his own. He ran down the stairs, his dark cloak flapping out behind him. His sharp eyes quickly swept across the scene, taking in the small room, but Arundel, she was nowhere to be seen.
Panic was beginning to set in and Aragorn's eyes darted back and forth, desperately scanning the room. The counter! Behind the counter! The man raced over and as he had thought, there lay Arundel, unconscious. He set Arryn down, who immediately clutched at his mother and began crying.
"M-mummy!" he bawled, tears spilling from his pale eyes. His face pinched up, and Aragorn lightly brushed him away, taking quick time to explain that his mother needed air. "Can you walk, Arryn?" he asked while his fingers flew to Arundel's throat in search of her pulse. He found it, though it was faint from the lack of oxygen.
Arryn nodded, his eyes never leaving his mother. Aragorn pulled the woman into his strong arms and he turned to the boy, who held Jay fiercely in his arms. "Arryn, you must listen to me, we must get out of here. I will be carrying your mother, so I cannot carry you. I need you to walk on your own," the ranger said, staring at the boy.
The child nodded, eyes slightly wide at the situation they were in. Aragorn turned sharply and headed for the door. Flames seemed to come alive and blocked the door as they neared, but suddenly, the flaming door fell forward. Aragorn leapt back, shielding Arryn carefully as hot sparks rose, and the man blinked when he saw Legolas standing there.
The Elf was covered in ashes, and clutching at his left hand, which did not hold his bow. Instead, his weapon lay slung on his shoulder. "Strider!" Legolas gasped, blue eyes widening beneath his hood. Aragorn raced out, Arryn hot behind him and he stumbled into his friend's arms, gasping for breath. Legolas lowered the man slowly to the ground, his eyes intent on the ranger, oblivious to the chaos around them.
"What happened to you?" Aragorn asked, weary. He lay Arundel gently on the ground, and checked her breathing. Arryn sat besides his mother, clutching at her wrist with one hand and holding Jay with the other. "Mama!" he sobbed. "Mama!" Arundel's dark lashes twitched slightly against her ashen face and she let out a low moan.
Her eyes opened, and she stared up at the face of her son, dazed. "Arryn? Oh! Arryn, my boy!" She sat up and took the boy in her arms, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Aragorn watched this with a grim smile and he turned to Legolas. "Where were you?" he repeated softly. Legolas glanced at him, and licked his cracked lips dryly.
"Across the street, my friend. It seemed another family was trapped in there. I heard their screams, and I had tried to tell you, but you had gone into the house already. Forgive me," the Elf answered quietly. Aragorn nodded slowly, and he took Legolas's hand, frowning at it. His friend's smooth, slender hands were blistering from a severe burn.
Aragorn looked up, concerned, and Legolas shook his head. "There is no time for us to talk now, Strider." He clasped the ranger's shoulder with his uninjured hand. "We must get these two to safety." Aragorn nodded, brows furrowing. His attention turned to those around them. Houses were still afire, burning steadily.
It was often when a roof caved in, or something else that caused a monstrous sound occurred. People ran towards the gates, blindly, and screaming. The shouts and orders of the soldiers were just as loud as the people's screams, and horses shrieked, rearing back. Aragorn bit his lip angrily, and the Elf watched the man carefully, worrying for his friend.
"Arundel," the ranger then said. The woman looked up, eyes wide with fear, and Arryn still nestled in her arms. "You must get out of Byrium! Now!" She nodded and stood, fumbling for her son's hand; she finally managed to gripped Arryn by the hand tightly. "What of the you two?" she asked, her voice raspy from the smoke. Aragorn shook his head. "We must help the others."
"We cannot leave you two here in all this danger!" Arundel argued, her voice becoming stronger as she spoke. She held Aragorn's stern gaze, but her pale eyes flickered to Legolas as he spoke, "We will leave when we believe it is our limit. Go now, Arundel, for the sake of your son!" Arundel had no reply and she stared at the two of them, until finally she sighed.
"May you be safe," she whispered. The two nodded and the woman took off, son close at hand. As she disappeared into the crowded streets, a horse gave a loud scream as a roof caved in. "Perhaps it is best if we leave. I do not suspect there are any others…" Aragorn sighed. Legolas sent him a gaze, though he seemed to agree.
"Aye," he agreed softly, eyes dark with a silent rage. "I shall hate myself for this later." Aragorn clasped the other's shoulder and smiled slightly. "Fear not," he whispered. "Guilt tortures me as well." Legolas gave the man a wry smile and nodded, "Let us make for the gates." By now, the entire street was swarming with soldiers.
"Quickly and quietly," Aragorn murmured under his breath. He started first, Legolas close behind, and they molded into the crowds, slipping past soldiers. Legolas followed the man silently. His burnt hand throbbed and he winced as it brushed against the cape of one. Suddenly, Aragorn came to an abrupt halt and Legolas, whose attention had turned to his hand, bumped slightly against the man.
"Strider?" he asked, voice hardly above a whisper. Legolas looked over the man's shoulder, and his face paled, for standing before them, atop a mighty horse was Travington. He stared down at them, his dark eyes narrowed in both surprise and hate. "The two rogues," he snarled out. Legolas stepped back slightly, in an attempt of shielding his face.
Travington's eyes flickered from Aragorn to Legolas, and they narrowed in suspicion. His mare shook her head and tugged at the reins impatiently, and the man cruelly jerked them back. Legolas' eyes narrowed dangerously as he took note of the two dark streams of blood running down from the corners of the horse's mouth where the metal bit dug into her soft flesh.
The sides of the mare heaved heavily, but Travington paid her no attention. "Reveal yourselves," he barked. When neither made a move to obey, he drew his sword furiously, his face reddening. Legolas slowly pulled his bow off his shoulder as Travington drew the attention of the soldiers around them.
Aragorn caught sight of this, and he reached back and caught the Elf's hands. "Do not do anything rash," he whispered. But that was a mistake, for Travington was enraged that neither was paying attention to him. "We run," Aragorn continued, ignoring the man atop the horse. The man's hate for Aragorn was clear and dug the heels of his boots into the mare's side.
The horse let out a loud neigh and leapt forward, quivering. Travington had drawn his sword, and it was pointed directly at the base of Aragorn's throat. "You shall regret disobeying me," he hissed nastily. Aragorn slowly, and coolly, turned his head away from Legolas and faced the man.
He calmly looked down at the blade and back at the man. Then too quickly for any eyes to follow, save Legolas', he drew his own blade and brought it up. It clanged loudly against Travington's and the man's sword flew from his hand, skidding upon the muddy cobblestones. Legolas muttered below his breath, "And you tell me not to do anything rash. Trust a man like yourself to make such a dramatic gesture."
Aragorn snorted too quietly for any to hear, and he lowered his sword to his side, the blade flickering like live silver in the light of the torches. It was quiet in the circle of soldiers that surrounded the man and Elf, and Travington stared in disbelief, perhaps even in anger, at his sword, which lay cold on the side of the street.
Then in a deadly voice, too low for many around him to hear, he said, "How dare you." His voice grew angrier and louder as his temper flared to life. "I care naught who you are! You shall die by my hand!" Somewhere from the crowd, someone produced a blade, which was handed over to Travington.
The man swung it back and forth, getting a better grip, and Aragorn could see that Travington was, indeed, an experienced swordsman. He leapt off his mare, which a soldier took with an equal amount of cruelty, and he stood still, his dark, fur-trimmed cape swirling about his booted feet.
Aragorn stood his ground, shoulders out and back straight. He clutched his sword and whispered to his sword, "Give me aid, my beloved blade. Show me how you sing." And with that, he sprung into action. Travington drew up his own broadsword and the two clashed. This immediately seemed to trigger a chain reaction, for Legolas, who had jumped in behind Aragorn, was swarmed with soldiers.
He abandoned his bow and drew his twin daggers hastily, ignoring the pain in his hand. With a quick wrist movement, he managed to flick the blades over to a comfortable grip, and he jerked back from a soldier who had neared him. "Let's see what's under that hood boys!" the man howled. Legolas' eyes narrowed coldly, and suddenly, his body seemed to be moving by itself.
He could not move, but he saw through his eyes as the tip of his blade was buried into the man's side. His own lips were twisting into small smile, and Legolas became horrified, for this was not of his doing. An icy wave seemed to be pouring down at him from all directions, and the world seemed to flicker before his eyes, like a fire about to go out.
And suddenly, the Elf was wretched back into the smoke-scented night from a jolt of pain in his side. He looked down to see a small dagger buried to the hilt between his ribs and with a small hiss, he pulled it out. He flung it on the ground in anger and as he looked up, he met the frightened eyes of a soldier who could not have been more than fifteen.
The boy began to back away as Legolas neared him. His mouth dropped opened and he scrambled back fearfully. Legolas froze and watched as the boy soldier disappeared into the crowd. For a second, a pained feeling came at his heart, for he had meant to kill no one. He shook his head, ridding the thought from his head, for right now, it was not important.
He spun, hair flying out and flashing like silver in the dull light of the moon, and he caught a sight of Aragorn, who was fighting Travington with such ferocity that Legolas began to worry. As he started for the two, something jerked him back. It was a soldier, whose hair was as red as the fire around them.
The soldier's grubby hand traveled to Legolas' hood before the Elf could stop him, and with a quick jerk, the dark cloth slipped off Legolas' head. The soldiers who were watching, stared, eyes wide and in a sort of shock. Noises seem to die around them, and Legolas found quick panic rising in his throat.
He gripped his blades tightly, injured hands screaming in protest. "Elf," the soldier whispered. He repeated the word over and over, until some realization seemed to strike him, for he let out a scream, "Elf!" More heads spun, two of them including Aragorn's and Travington's. The ranger's heart sank slowly, and he darted to his friend's side, sword still in hand.
Travington approached them slowly. "Bring me my horse," he ordered hoarsely. Immediately, his great steed appeared before him, and the man climbed on awkwardly, his eyes never leaving Legolas' face. "So," he murmured as if dazed. "You are an Elf." Legolas said nothing, but his eyes narrowed slightly.
Aragorn, besides the Elf, stiffened. He glanced to his right and left, looking for an opening for which they could make their escape. "You are hereby under arrest."
Those words jerked the man back to attention and he screamed within his mind, What?! Legolas looked up at the man calmly and he spoke for the first time in the presence of the men, "Under arrest for being an Elf?" His eyes darkened visibly and Travington stared down at him, his shock slowly dissolving.
"Aye," he answered harshly. "You are now under the control of Byrium and her king, Elf." He spat out the name of the Elders as a slur, and Legolas took note of that. "And perhaps I do not agree to such laws?" he asked coolly, his stoic face unchanging. Aragorn stirred besides him angrily, and the Elf prayed that the man knew what he was planning.
"You have no choice," the man answered. Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he questioned sardonically. He grip tightened on his blade as he continued, "Ah, well that is too bad, for you see, I had no intention of going peacefully." Travington's eyes narrowed to dark slits. "Is that so, Elf?" he asked. He motioned to the soldiers besides him, and they stepped up, casting wary eyes on Legolas.
"One. Two. Three."
At Aragorn's count, the Elf jumped into action. While he raced in one direction, Aragorn ran in the other, and the soldiers stared dumbly around and after them, unsure of who to follow and what to do. "Get them!" Travington screamed. He kicked at his mare, and she started, her horseshoes skidding on the pavement.
Aragorn glanced back at this and disappeared into a alley, blending with the shadows. His breathing quieted to nothing as three soldiers passed by, swords drawn and torches raised. They passed quickly, not wanting to stall in a dark alley and Aragorn let out a breath of relief. He pushed himself away from the wall using only his fingertips. Quickly, he scanned the rough wall that ended the alley abruptly. Then, finding a foothold, he grabbed an uneven brick in the wall and hoisted himself up.
He swung his leg over the top of the wall and slid the rest of his body up onto the edge of the wall. There, he sat, his eyes bright and alert, and then he slipped over, as silent as a soft breeze. He landed on the other side of the wall, a soft click from his boots, and he crept forward, his mouth in a thin, hard line, for there was no sight of his companion.
Suddenly, a figure dropped from the roofs soundlessly, landing in a low crouch. Aragorn jumped, slightly startled, and when he turned, he met Legolas' luminous eyes. "Legolas!" he hissed, irritated. The Elf's lips quirked into the smallest of smiles before turning and looking down both ways down the street.
He looked back to Aragorn and frowned. "I can feel the heat," he murmured blankly. Aragorn raised a questioning eyebrow, but the Elf did not seem to notice. Instead, Legolas jerked Aragorn back into the shadows warning in a low whisper, "Two approach." The two stood up against the wall as the two men neared.
And as the men passed, the torches they held illuminated on their scarlet and silver soldier colors. The soldiers passed, sending the alley a dark, ominous gaze. One backtracked and paused for the shortest of moments, holding the torch up. The light of the flames flickered over the bricks and garbage barrels, casting long shadows.
Legolas drew in a sharp, but silent breath, and he stiffened noticeably as the light came closer towards them. At the last moment, the soldier's head snapped back as the other shouted an impatient order. The soldier shouted something back and casting the shadows a final glowering look, he shuffled away.
The Mirkwood Elf let out a relieved breath, as did Aragorn besides him. Then as Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, a monstrously loud crack sounded. Both heads whipped to the left, and wincing, they watched as another roof caved in. A shower of hot sparks rose from the wooden building and into the dark sky; the soldiers around let out a loud whoop and raised their weapons, cheering.
Absentmindedly, Aragorn's hands clenched into tight fights and his eyes darkened. Legolas placed a hand lightly on the man's shoulder. "Come now, friend. We can do nothing to help them as of now…" The Elf seemed to have drifted back into the shadows, for his voice grew softer and harder to hear.
Aragorn turned without a word, the charred edges of his cloak swirling about his boots. He found Legolas inspecting the walls of the house, prodding at some bricks. Legolas lay out his hand, palm flat, on the surface of the wall, and he drew back after some time. "These bricks," he said slowly to Aragorn, "they are burning from the other side. If we are to make our escape, then we must be swift."
"Aye," the man replied. He lifted his hands and with his fingertips, he lightly traced the rough patterns of the bricks. His hand trailed down back to his side and he turned to the Elf, who watched him with bright eyes. "Let us go," he said. Legolas nodded, eyes still upon the man. Then his attention jerked back to their escape, and he stepped back, looking the wall up and down.
He sprung into action, then. He ran up to the side of the house, then he seemed to be running up the bricks. Aragorn watched, intrigued, as the Elf pushed off of the side of the wall. Then he leapt over to the alley wall, which lay perpendicular to the side of the house. He grabbed the edge of the wall and pulled himself up easily.
He disappeared for a moment and resurfaced. He perched up on the edge of the wall for a moment, eyes scanning for soldiers. Then, he turned to Aragorn and held out his hand. "Hurry," he said, his voice hushed. Aragorn let out a huff before taking the Elf's hand, which was surprisingly cool, in spite of the heat around them.
The Elf pulled the man up, and the two sat up on the edge for a misplaced moment. Then without a word, they both sprang onto the roof besides them, which, surprisingly, held sturdy. From the cracks in the wood, heat seemed to be steaming up, but the cool night air was blowing at the face of Aragorn, and he ignored the scorching wood panels.
He followed the Elf, who hurried before him, running lightly atop the wood. Aragorn had a harder time, considering his weight, and when Legolas glanced back, he found the man walking cautiously on the wood. "Aragorn!" the Elf whispered. "Just run! If these boards are not sturdy, then they shall fall some time after you have passed."
When the man still not hasten his speed, Legolas sighed and told him, "Do not doubt your skills, ranger." At this, Aragorn looked up, a slight smile upon his dirty face. Then he seemed to be filled with a new life, for he sprung up, racing across the wooden boards. A moment later he was besides the Elf, hawk-like eyes running over the view.
Around them, roofs sat burning, and soldiers dressed in scarlet and silver swarmed the streets. In the distance, he could see the high wooden gates of Byrium, and he pointed this out to Legolas, who had taken note of this already. "We must hurry," Legolas encouraged, glancing from the man to the gates. "The gates are not far."
"Aye," the man answered. He glanced back at Legolas. "But how do we get there, my friend? Surely we cannot make our escape through only roofs, for many of them have caved in already." Legolas nodded in agreement, but he was hesitant. "Perhaps we can make it through the roofs…" he murmured.
Aragorn threw a sharp gaze at the Elf and shook his head quickly. "That is folly, Legolas. You certainly cannot make it across those burning roofs, let alone me!" he argued, pointing out at the orange flames for emphasis. Legolas glanced at him, irritation clear in his blue eyes. "Oh, human!" he complained, brows knotted together in frustration. "You do not trust yourself."
Without waiting for an answer, the Mirkwood Elf sprinted off the roof and ran onto the next one, which sat directly below the first. A shower of embers flew up upon the Elf's landing, but he was too quick, for he was halfway across the roof by the time the embers had disappeared completely.
Upon reaching the end of the second roof, Legolas turned back, eyes wide with innocence. "Aragorn," he said, motioned the man to come over. Aragorn stepped back hesitantly, but if this was his only chance…
He took a deep breath and stepped onto the other roof cautiously. Then, seeing Legolas shake his head impatiently, the man ran. His friend's words were true, for even as some boards clattered and fell, the ranger had gone before any serious damage was done. "Well done, mellon nin," Legolas complimented. With a quick smile, the Elf darted on.
Aragorn shook his head and followed. And this continued on for several roofs, until finally, when the Byrium gates were three houses away. Unfortunately, these three houses had been the worst of the damaged, but they stood, still, like heroes of a battle won. Legolas stopped, and Aragorn halted besides him.
"Why do you not go on?" he questioned, drawing in a deep breath, though it was smoky. Legolas shook his head firmly. "We cannot make it through this way. These roofs will not support our weight," he answered. Aragorn's heart sank, for he had been expecting to continue the escape this way. "We can try for the least," he rebutted.
Legolas shook his head again, and turned upon Aragorn fiercely, perhaps his patience finally shortened by their hopeless situation. "Nay! They still burn beneath the roofs, Aragorn!" he shot back, his hardened expression softened greatly, and in a more controlled way, he continued, "Unless you wish to fall into a pit of fire, we must go another way."
Aragorn nodded, though his eyes lingered upon the roofs longingly. "The only other way," he murmured, "is to go in the street, and there are too many soldiers." Legolas sighed, but he smiled grimly at the man. "We must endure," he said, clasping the man's shoulder. Aragorn returned the smile, and he clasped the other's shoulder, giving him a slight squeeze. "We must endure," he repeated.
Legolas gave him a final smile before sweeping the hood of his cloak up, as did Aragorn, and without a final word, Legolas simply walked over to the edge of the house, and swung himself into the window by his arms. The sound of breaking glass met Aragorn's ears, and the man peered over the edge of the roof, amazed that no soldiers had noticed the Elf.
Finally, drawing in a deep breath, he swung over the edge of the roof, as Legolas had, and slipped into the window. The Elf was already awaiting him, arms crossed over his chest. "There is no one in this house, or the next. The windows are too far apart to jump, so the only option we have is to exit out into the street."
Aragorn nodded and said, "Then once we are into the street-" he ignored the sound of falling debris "-we shall enter the house nearest to the gates…"
"Or perhaps we can jump to the next window…" Legolas murmured. He looked up from his thoughts. "Strider, follow me." He led his friend over to a small window. The fire nearby had died down, but a stifling heat still rose from downstairs and through the floorboards. He pointed to a small window that sat opposite of where they were.
The space between them was indeed wide, and Aragorn frowned. "I cannot be sure that I shall make it, my friend," he admitted, studying the distance. Legolas shook his head again. "Silly humans," he said, "doubt is always on your mind, is it not?" Aragorn made a face, but the Elf ignored him.
Legolas pushed the on the pane of the window with the flat of his hand, avoiding usage of his burnt hand, and the window swung open easily. But Aragorn caught sight of the dark liquid on Legolas' hand. The Elf caught the man's gaze and quickly withdrew his blood-covered hand, but the damage had been done.
Aragorn caught the Elf's hand in his own and studied it with narrowed eyes. From what he could see, there was no wound on the Elf's hand, but his eyes traveled to the dark stain in Legolas' tunic. "You are injured," he noted softly. When his friend did not answer, he met the other's eyes and demanded sharply, "How long have you hidden this from me?"
"Not long," the other finally admitted after some time. "It was a soldier who impaled a small dagger on me." Seeing Aragorn's look of concern, the Elf quickly added, "It is not poisoned." Aragorn sent him a sharp gaze that drilled a sharp pang of guilt into the Elf. "I shall see that for myself." Legolas' patience ran quickly.
"Now is not the time," he snapped, shoving Aragorn's hands away from his side. "You can treat this cursed wound after we have escaped." The Elf's anger turned to desperation. "Please, Aragorn, I just wish to flee from this wretched place."
Aragorn gave an understandable nod. "I understand my friend, but you must give me your word that I can tend to your wound." Legolas gave a grateful smile. "Aye, you have my word," he promised. He gave a soft smile and said, "Well, shall we try and make it across?" Aragorn winced at the thought of him falling, quite ungracefully, and landing on his face.
"I am ready," he answered, drawing in a deep breath. Legolas gave him an encouraging smile and pulled himself onto the windowsill. He tilted his head back, and gave a light laugh, as if this was all ridiculous. Then he jumped.
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Sorry it took so long to post that, but I've been holding it off until a few days ago, and I got a bit lazy… again, and ended the chapter more quickly then I hoped to. Get ready for Chapter 13! Oh boy, a LOT of things are going to happen in THAT chapter, but anyway, please leave a review on your way out, and thanks!
