*sighs* Another day another dollar. No wait... *goes back to read disclaimer* Crap, I'm not getting paid for this. Well then why the heck am I doing it? *muses point the author towards the reviews* Oh riiight, I remember. Cuz you guys inspire me! Have I mentioned how much I love you all? Cuz I do.
Oh and, my response to your reviews will now be at the bottom of my posts after my final author's note. Since by some miracle my reviewers have become much more numerous, and I've come to the realization that it is annoying to have to scroll past all that. So reviewers, look for me at the end of the road! *gags* Where the hell did that come from?
" Leaves of Glass "
Chapter 5 - Pretense
Strider struggled uselessly against the bonds wrapped tightly around his wrists as he was pushed through the dark forest. A half-dozen men, all cloaked in black and bearing longbows, watched him with mild interest. He glared back at them as they herded him on, twisting in a futile attempt to see the limp body of Legolas, being carried behind him by the first man that had come into their clearing.
Moments after Legolas had fallen the others had emerged from the concealing forest, bows trained on him. He had had no choice but to concede to their demands, despite the warnings of his mind. For he knew that he would be of more use to the unconscious prince alive.
Quickly bound, the Ranger had watched as the first man, dark to his very core, knelt beside Legolas and lifted him effortlessly from the leaf-littered ground. The malicious look in his dark eyes had sent chills through Strider's body. What the strangers had in mind for them now he had no idea.
He stumbled as he walked and, encumbered by his bound hands, fell to the ground with a dull thump. He groaned inwardly, wincing at the pain caused by the hard roots that had come into contact with his ribs and cheekbone. The men around him laughed as they watched him struggle to his feet.
Some time later the company re-emerged into the rogues' camp, greeted by cheers from the men left behind.
"Our prize!" The dark man shouted, holding the lifeless body of the prince for all to see. The men cheered again. "Finally, our plans shall begin! Finally our ultimate reward shall be won!"
'Thanks to you.' He hissed into Strider's ear as he walked past, taking Legolas with him.
But the Ranger had no time for thoughts of regret or sorrow. He was pushed from behind by one of the men and he stumbled forward once again, the man and his friend quickly disappearing from sight into the busy camp. Strider watched his surroundings as the man behind him propelled him forward, taking in every fire, every path between tents, every way of escape.
'Not without the prince.' He promised himself as he passed dark-cloaked men and lifeless slaves. "I will not leave him to these men.' Near the center of the expansive camp his bonds were cut and he was pushed into a run-down tent, tripping once again and falling to his knees on the grass floor as his escort left. He did not try to escape. Now was not the time.
He looked up to see dirty linen that made up the sides of the tent and thin poles that held it aloft in a hazardous angle. There was little furniture in the small enclosure. Just a bed, a stool, and two cabinets; their doors opened to show vials and bowls full of herbs and liquid mixtures. Many days worth of old food and dirty clothes were lying around the room giving it a cluttered feel and a pungent smell. His sharp ears heard footsteps approaching.
He quickly stood and spun around to face the entrance of the tent, wondering what evil could be coming for him now. But what entered brought more amusement to him than fear.
The small, white-haired man entered backwards, carrying a large tray heavily laden with more bowls. He was short in his stooped state, coming no higher than Strider's chest; his ancient body was wrinkled on every inch of exposed skin and his murky eyes squinted at the contents he carried. The tray seemed to pull at his very base, bringing him to the ground, threatening to topple his stick-like figure.
Feeling pity for the shriveled man Strider moved forward and took the tray from him, setting it down on the only available surface, the bed. The old man blinked in the Ranger's general direction and his nostrils flared. Dark robes swirled around his feet, the hem dirty from dragging in the dust. They seemed to hang off his thin bones.
"Do not be kind to me, ranger." He said, turning slowly, his hands grasping in front of him. His searching fingers found the small stool and he pushed the contents to the floor. Strider heard a clang as metal dishes collided with each other. The man sat down and turned once again to face him.
"Do not take pity on me, young sir." He said in an accent Strider recognized but could not place, his voice thin and wispy with age. "I am your enemy here."
Strider held back a laugh. "Forgive me, father, but you seem no more dangerous than the swaddled children I left in my village."
"Ah, but looks can be deceiving." The old man said, holding up one finger to make a point. "I am more dangerous than any warrior you have met in your few years."
'Not so few.' Strider muttered.
The wizened man shook his head as if explaining something simple to a slow child. "Few enough compared to those I have seen. Or you will see before the end, dunadan."
Strider gasped, once gain surprised by the knowledge of these strangers.
The man laughed. "My old ears tell me much, Ranger."
"But my heritage?" Strider asked, unable to keep the skepticism from his voice. "Magic ears you must have to tell that only from my voice."
"You presume much, boy." The man said, lifting one shaky hand, wrinkled and veined and covered in age-spots, to smooth out the front of his stained tunic. "I said my ears tell me much. I did not say who told them. Who else but one of the Dunadain would travel with a prince of the elves, eh?"
Strider said nothing and the man did not go on. After a while the old man's eyes slid closed and his body drooped. Strider wondered if he had fallen asleep as was normal with one so old. He shifted, wondering what he should do. He could leave the old man now. And should he awake the young Ranger knew he could easily overpower him. He wondered briefly why they would leave him, a man in his prime, unguarded with such a fragile creature.
But it would be complete idiocy to simply expect to walk out of the camp. Night or not, he had seen many guards in the camp, and these men did not seem to allow much to pass them by. The young Ranger was beginning to believe that he would be left alone with nothing but his own thoughts through the night. But he was wrong.
"Pretense, my young friend, is your best ally here." Strider jumped at the sound of the rough, strong voice coming from behind him. But when he turned he saw no one but the ancient. His eyes darted around the small enclosure but no other was present.
The old man lifted his head, his murky gaze meeting Strider's. The Ranger took a step back. Suddenly the small form was not so frail, not so weak. The thin shoulders straightened and the back uncurled. His fragile hands stopped shaking to turn strong and sure. His head was held high in confidence. But the eyes no doubt, though grayed and unclear, were the focus of the Ranger's attention. The strength and fire in those eyes frightened him.
Like the prince's transformation from warrior to child, this man turned from an ancient on death's door, to a seasoned warrior.
"Until now you assumed me to be frail." He said, his voice that of a man aged but not yet done with this life. "Old." He continued. "Useless perhaps. You wondered why they would leave you with me unguarded when you could so easily overpower me." Strider started as if the man had read his very thoughts. "But you see only what I wish you to see. As do they."
The old man stood and walked slowly over to the Ranger. Even now he came up no farther than Strider's shoulder, and his body, though strong, was thin and wiry. He pulled two vials from hidden pockets in his large robes.
"This," He said, holding up one clear bottle, it's top sealed with wax the color of newly shed blood. "Will send you into the realm of the dead the moment its fumes reach your nose. This," He held up the other, sealed with wax the color of spring skies. "Would kill you slowly. Should the liquid touch your skin it would penetrate your body and enter your blood system. When it reached your heart in a few hours time it would drop you where you stood and proceed to spread through your entire body, boiling your blood in your veins. A most unpleasant way to die I assure you."
Strider stared at the bottles, their clear liquids slipping from side to side as the man shook them gently in his hands. He did not doubt his words.
"I am no warrior." The man said, moving to the place on the bed where Strider had placed the laden tray. "But I know enough about herbs and natural chemicals to kill a cave troll with one touch to its leathery hide."
He reached out and picked up the farthest bowl. He brought it to his wrinkled face and took a long sniff of its contents. "Wizard's Beard." He said, handing the bowl to Strider. "It gets its name from the long, white flowers that droop to the ground in the summer. The flowers have a lovely smell. Many old mothers put them in their gardens. But what most don't know is that their roots, when ground and stewed in tea are a cure for mild seizures."
Strider stared down at the bowl. Tiny flakes of milky white roots sat in a heap in the bottom. "I did not know that." He said softly.
"I have much to teach you, child." The man said, lifting another bowl and smelling its contents as well. "If you and your friend are to leave this camp alive."
Strider started again. He did not know if he could handle anymore twists or surprises in this adventure he had stumbled into. "Why would you help us?" He asked, setting the bowl down on the stool and watching the man cautiously. "I don't understand."
The man turned to him, his eyes sliding across some distant memory or thought. And he whispered, "I have my reasons."
Then he turned and picked up another bowl. "Yes." He said, his eyes staring down at the contents. "Yes, I have much to teach you."
And so Strider's lessons began.
To Be Continued...
Hmm. I have no idea where this story is going. I thought I did. But then whenever I sit down to write a new chapter, all these freaky little plot bunnies start bounding through my head and my story goes running off in a completely different direction. *shrugs* As long as my readers are satisfied, so am I.
Oh, and Wizard's Beard, purely a creation of my imagination.
And one more thing... I promise to all of you who were disappointed (and I know there were many), Legolas will be in the next chapter. Like I said... rampaging plot bunnie...
Until next time!
Adrienne
To my reviewers, who brighten my darkest days -
Snuffles2 - Hmm. Is that why? ... Cool. :)
LegolasLover2003 - Aren't I just so mean to the poor thing? *laughs maniacally*
Estel Elven Enchantress - Oh my goodness yes! Shock! Much with the shock! The infamous 'warrior braids' have gone! But he looks really good in that crown thingy (whatever you would call it), so it's okay. And may I just say, you are very perceptive. Although, you don't know why yet. :)
Deana - Have I mentioned how much I love writing cliffhangers? Cuz I do.
SilverKnight7 - I have! I have! I have! And thank you.
silvertoekee - I know! Now I have to wait AGAIN for the DVD. But hey, at least that means it's not completely over yet. It's so sad to see the whole thing drawing to a close.
Starlit Hope - Ummm... okay.
Templa Otmena - Yes. So many twists, so many turns. How I love to torture my boys. And my readers. :)
Gwyn - Scared now. *hides behind large green man made out of dead people* Umm... I think there are some angry villagers waiting for you at the door. *runs away*
morkeleb - Well thank you very much, and I will.
Cosmic Castaway - *rubs shin* Just for that, this time I'm going to make you wait even longer. *ducks flying vegetables* Okay! Okay! I won't, I promise. And what I loved about that scene the most was when Legolas was counting as he was shooting. That was so funny. :)
Alexis-Greenleaf - Okay!
Coolio02 - I've RotK three times already and am already waiting on edge for my next trip! I love that movie!
Kylie - I do try, to be honest. I mean, I'm not a Tolkien purist, I wouldn't object to writing an AU, but for the 'real' stories, I want to get as close to his works as possible because he was a genius and you can't change that.
AgentSands-CIA - Is 5? No? Well, I'll keep writing then.
crystal-rose15 - Because I'm evil to the core, baby! *laughs evilly* As for the address, always happy to assist a fellow write. Here you go ...
MG87 - I found out from my friend that Peter Jackson is actually arachnophobic, and he took all the things he hated the most about spiders, everything that really creeped him out, and put them all together to make Shelob. How cruel is that?
Kit Cloudkicker - Thank very much.
cherryfaerie - Oh, but I love them so very very much. :) And here is your website (the one with the engish to sindarin dictionary) ...
Nikki1 - I will. Eventually.
