Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.
Warnings: Angst, torture
Mindless Babble: A former co-worker told me about the lavender and rosemary thing I use at the end of this chapter. It's supposed to relieve stress.
Legolas looked at his friend, fear and worry clenching his heart. He had watched the Ranger slowly worsen. His face had paled as the fever returned with a vengeance. His eyes closed and fluttered open as he fought to finish his tale. He knew his family surrounded his bed and he drew strength from them to continue.
"You need to rest, Aragorn," Legolas said softly. He laid his hand over the humans and was surprised when the man wove his fingers in with the elf's.
"No! I need to end it!"
Legolas pulled back slightly, the memory of their earlier conversation flashing in his mind's eye. The human grasped his hand and grinned mirthlessly.
"The tale, my friend."
Legolas could feel three sets of eyes fall on him, asking him questions he did not want to answer. Not yet. He was saved from being verbally asked, by Aragorn. The man closed his eyes as he relived the memories.
"I had been found when they stopped for the night. They had me surrounded and were taking turns testing their whips on human flesh…"
"What's wrong, little rat? Dance for us!" The orc laid the braided leather across Aragorn's shoulder. The man gasped in pain and backed away only to be lashed across the back by another orc. The man could feel the poison entering his system but could do nothing. He glanced up and spotted his gear leaning against a tree.
"Look, the vermin wants his fangs back!"
While the orcs laughed, Strider made his move. He gripped the broken arrow that he had managed to palm like a knife and lunged at the nearest creature. The human slit the thing's throat so quickly it was dead before it even knew what was happening. Strider jumped off the carcass and sprinted to his coat and weapons. He snatched them up and continued to run through the small grove of trees.
So blind was his flight, that Strider did not even notice that he had reached the main road until he was nearly trampled by a massive horse. The animal reared and stepped back in surprise as Strider stepped to its side avoiding the flailing hooves. The man that rode the huge beast looked down at man that he had nearly killed; ready to berate him for not watching where he was going. One look at the bleeding and bruised body stopped him. Instead he held a hand out, offering the stranger a ride. Strider looked at the hand for a moment his thoughts still in a fog.
"Come on, kid! It looks like you could use a ride."
Strider cautiously took the offered hand and swung himself onto the back of the horse. The horseman kept the others hand, telling him without words that it would be wise to hold onto him. Then he kicked the horse into a surprisingly fast gallop.
"Name's Draven."
"Strider."
Draven glanced over his shoulder in shock. "You a Ranger?"
Strider nodded slightly, fear creeping into his eyes. Rangers were not liked in very many areas and Draven was a powerfully built man.
"Never thought I'd live to see the day when one of you gets this badly beaten. What happened?"
"Orcs."
"Damn buggers!" Draven spat. "Bane of Gondor, they are!"
"They are going to attack the city in a week. I need to warn the troops."
"There's a patrol that is camped not far from here. I'll take you to them." Draven looked up at the position of the sun. "After a quick stop at my home."
"Thank you."
"Don't be thanking me yet. You still have yet to meet my wife." Draven grinned at the Ranger. "Looking like that, you may not be able to escape!"
Strider understood immediately what Draven had meant about his wife. The woman was short and slender with strawberry blond hair that was tied back in a loose bun. She came running out of the house as soon as she heard the hoof beats. She reached her husband just as his feet touched the ground and enveloped him in a crushing bear hug.
"Get off of me, woman!" Draven yelled in mock disgust. He briefly returned the hug before wiggling out of the embrace to help Strider down. The Ranger tried to be somewhat graceful in his dismount, but ended up falling into Draven's stronger arms. His wife took one look at him and had to muffle a cry in her hands.
"Meg, take this boy into the house and take care of him until I can get the other horses ready." Draven draped one of the Ranger's arms over the woman's shoulder, letting her help the man walk.
Strider tried to resist, but Meg had a firm handle on the situation. "I should help Draven."
"My husband can handle the horses on his own. You need to rest for a bit."
"I cannot. There are … I am being hunted." Strider did not want to tell her what hunted him.
"A few moments of rest and a quick bite to eat won't delay you that much," replied Meg as she brought the Ranger into her little kitchen. She sat him down at the small table and turned to the stove. "When was the last time you had a good meal?"
"I don't remember," Strider answered truthfully as he rested his head on his folded arms. "Actually, I don't even remember the last time I ate anything," he added softly.
Meg turned to him, sorrow in her eyes. "A bit of broth, then. And maybe some bread."
She set a mug in front of the Ranger and turned to fetch the bread. Strider looked at the mug and felt his stomach twist. It had been too long since he had eaten anything that even resembled food. He took the cup and sipped the warm broth. By the time Draven came back into the house to get him, Strider had managed to drain the cup.
"Do you think you can handle a horse on your own?" Draven asked looking at the Ranger, getting a good look at all of the wounds that decorated the man's upper body.
"Yes, Sir. If it's not as big as the one we rode," Strider said, as he tried to stand. The poison from the whips had worked itself into his system making him much weaker then he already was and he collapsed. Draven caught the other man before he hit the ground.
"Why don't you stay here and rest a bit. I can go and warn the troops."
"No. I cannot stay here. I would be putting you in danger." Strider struggled to his feet. The look of determination in his eyes convinced Draven. He helped the Ranger out the door and onto the smaller horse that was waiting for them. Strapped to the back of the saddle were his bow, quiver and coat, all tied in a bundle. Meg grabbed Strider's hand and held for a moment.
"Safe journey, Ranger." She let go and stepped back.
Draven was on his horse and already heading towards the road. "May Ilúvatar keep you safe," Strider replied before turning his own horse towards the road.
"Captain Ren, Sir?"
The man that had been sleeping in the cot woke with a start. His blond hair fell into his face and he brushed it aside with annoyance. He looked at the soldier standing in the entryway of his tent and suddenly felt very old. He was only in his early thirties but the other was just barely out of his teens and he had been fighting the orcs for the last 18 months.
"What is it Jonah?" Ren asked, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"I didn't want to wake you, seeing as how late it was, but they insisted on speaking to you now." Jonah hesitated before adding, "And Sir? One of them really scares me."
Ren glanced up at the younger man, shocked. Nothing ever seemed to faze him. "A man scares you?"
Jonah fidgeted a bit before answering. "I can't see him real clear, he stands away from the fire, but there is something about him that doesn't feel right."
Run swung his legs off the cot and stood. He strapped a knife to his hip and slipped on his boots. "Are they at the main fire?"
"Yes, sir."
"Alright then. Go back to your post, but stay close enough to hear if I yell."
"Yes, sir!"
Draven stood with his hands behind his back, watching the slender man make his way towards him. His dark hair hung loosely about his broad shoulders. He had not had the time to bind it back again after the half day's ride from his home. The moon had risen and the sky was bright with stars. He glanced back at the Ranger that stood next to the horses. Draven could tell the man was leaning against his horse, trying to stay upright. Strider had been unable to keep the little food he had eaten down, losing it only a few minutes away from Draven's home.
"You wish to see me?"
Draven turned to face the captain who stood on the other side of the fire. "Yes, sir. My name is Draven and I have some information you might be interested in."
"Who's your friend in the shadows?" Ren motioned in the direction of the other man.
"His name is Strider. He's a Ranger from the North."
"Isn't he a little far from home? What is he doing here?"
"Helping you."
Ren looked sharply at the bigger man. "You said you had information for me. What's your price?"
Draven looked a bit surprised but replied, "Only that you believe me."
It was Ren's turn to be stunned. "Go on."
"The orcs are gearing up for a major attack on the city in six days time. A caravan is bringing them supplies of weapons and food."
Disbelief was clearly written on the captain's face. "And you have proof of this?"
"I am the proof." Strider stepped into the light of the campfire. It was taking every ounce of willpower he had to remain standing; letting Ren take in all of the wounds the orc's brutality had left. "I was held captive long enough to hear their plans."
The blond man nodded his head, partly in understanding and partly in astonishment. "I believe you. Can you tell me where they are?"
Strider nodded. Unfortunately that took the last of his strength and he crumpled to the ground. Draven was at his side in a heartbeat and Ren a moment later.
"Jonah! Get the healer!" Ren shouted over his shoulder as he knelt next to Strider, who was gasping for air. "Rest now. We can talk more, later."
"No! They are getting closer!" Strider struggled to regain his feet, but both Draven and Ren held him down with little effort.
"Who's getting closer?" Draven asked. "What is it that you fear so much?"
Strider looked at the man that had shown him so much kindness and sighed. "Nazgûl."
Ren gasped in horror. "You have the Nine following you? What are you?"
"Someone you should not be seen with. I can tell you where the orcs are camped now but then I have to leave and put as much distance between us as fast as I can."
"Take Brax."
Strider whipped his head back around to look at the older of the two men. "I would not take your horse. You have need of him."
Draven smiled. "Then call it an extended loan."
Strider grinned in acceptance and proceeded to explain where the convoy was. When he was certain that Ren knew where it was, he got to his feet with the help of Draven. The two of them bid the captain 'good luck' and made their way to the horses. After helping the injured Ranger, Draven mounted his own steed and together they rode back to the main road.
"Where do you plan on going from here?" Draven asked.
Strider thought about it for a moment. "I think I will try for the Gap of Rohan and follow the Misty Mountains towards home."
"That'll take you close to Isengard. Perhaps the White Wizard will aid you."
Strider shook his head. "I would rather avoid that meeting if I could."
Draven laughed. "I do not fault you for that. That wizard makes me feel uneasy."
They had reached the road and it was now time to part. Strider leaned over and clasped Draven's forearm in farewell. "Thank you for all of your kindness, my friend."
"Just remember that Meg will have a fit if you don't come to visit sometime!" Draven replied, carefully wrapping his fingers around the others arm. "Good luck, my friend."
Dawn arrived and with it a small army of men swooping down on the orc supply train. Strider watched only long enough to confirm that the humans had the upper hand. Then he turned his horse north and rode for the Gap of Rohan.
Aragorn could feel the darkness fight to claim him. He would let it soon, but not until he finished. "I lost Brax to an orc ambush sometime after I passed Isengard. After that, I made my way on foot. The last thing I remember before waking in my own bed was four of the Nazgûl attacking."
"That was when we found you," Legolas said, quietly. "Now that we have heard your tale, will you please take some rest?"
Aragorn smiled at the worried tone of his friend's voice. "I do not think I have much of a choice in the matter."
"Then we will leave you to your rest," Elrond said, ushering the younger elves out the bedroom door. "But first…" He dumped the contents of a silken pouch into a small bowl of water. Then he placed the bowl on a stand over a lit candle. He waited a few moments for the fragrance to fill the room. Aragorn raised his head slightly as he caught the scent of something familiar. He tried to remember but the darkness was tugging at him.
"Ada? What is that? It smells familiar."
A small smile graced Elrond's lips. "It should. I used it when you were very young to keep the nightmares away. It is lavender and rosemary."
That evening, for a while at least, the nightmares could not reach Aragorn.
