Hi!
Here´s the next chapter - but I´m warning you, this really came out very, very weird (even for me...) Wrote this in the middle of the night - well, you´ll see. I just love the idea of the ghosts, and in this particular scene I can allow Aragorn to see some, too - one bad thing about writing from Aragorn´s perspective is we never really get to see them when Legoas does, what a drawback....
But enough of this, just enjoy, and PLEASE let me know what you think.
Review responses:
Aliyan: You like dark and creepy? Than this chapter is for you - and you´ll like the end of it, too, poor elf (again). Keep reviewing!
Rangergirl: Thanks!! I´m glad you enjoy the story - lots of angst for Aragorn in this chapter, hope you like it!
Lyn: NOTHING prevents me from writing this, at least not for long - this story is haunting me...Thanks for the language hint, I should know this, but (sigh) you now how it is...please point out anything that seems wrong/weird to you, I´m always glad to improve my English (one reason to write in English). Keep up the reviews!
Star Stallion. Thanks so much! Here´s the update, hope you like it!
Red Tigress: Me, leaving Legolas out?? No way, believe me, he´ll be there, and of course that means trouble. Why are we all so mean?! :)
OK, on to the chapter.
Enjoy!!
Alinah
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: Not mine
Risks worth taking
The sounds of living darkness gathered around Aragorn as he walked, and he felt acutely alone. Some small inner voice questioned the wisdom of leaving Legolas behind, but he had to have faith in their plan. He could feel his friend´s eyes on him, watching his every move, and willed himself to be reassured. Shivering, he remembred his flight from the mill and became painfully aware that even with the unconscious elf at his side he had unknowingly drawn strength from another living being´s presence. Now, there was nothing but the cold steel of the sword for company, and a poor substitute it was.
The white stone shone brightly for him, driving away the shadows. They backed down reluctantly, but back down they did. A mouldy scent drifted across from the mill and grew more intense as he approached. It drew forth the smoky silhouette of a memory, less veiled now after he had recalled most of what had lead to this predicament, and he could almost hear the tortured neigh of a horse. A sharp pain laced through his left knee and faded away. Somewhere in the distance an impatient hoof stamped the damp ground. The unmistakable sound of a horse chewing on a bridle´s bit was suddenly at his side, so close he felt he could reach out and feel - what? He glanced in the direction of the presence and sensed movement just beyond the edge of light. Dark and frightened. Blood and wet earth mingled.
Forcing his senses away from the dread that threatened to overwhelm him with so little a reason, Aragorn fixed his eyes on the red light that still streamed from the mill before him. The longer he looked at it, the more obvious it became that the light clouded more than it revealed. The walls´ outlines swam and breathed as he looked at them, making him feel dizzy. He squinted, trying to figure out whether Daramus and the boy had stepped outside already. He was sure the door had not opened ever since the light had appeared, but he seemed to detect figures moving around in the red haze.
A sigh. Aragorn flinched violently, whirling around towards the sound to his left. The stone´s moving beam briefly caught the shadow of a man, armour tattered. Their eyes met, and a smile spread over grey lips. Then there was nothing.
Aargorn heart raced along at a pace that was almost painful. He did not halt his movement and turned further, the light flickering across more faces, bodies crowded around him. In the fleeting heartbeats it took the light to erase their forms, he could see them looking at him with hope, with fear, with pity. An endless stream of petitioners begging for release. Or maybe just lost souls welcoming a new comrade. His foot caught against a rock on the ground and send him tumbling.
Completely off balance in body and spirit, he fell. The white stone was knocked loose and rolled over the dark ground. The light was drawn away from him with it, allowing the drifting shapes closer. It highlighted legs and feet as it rolled, naked toes, broad boots, the hooves of a horse, restlessly shifting. The ground heaved, preparing to open and swallow his last hope of safety. He lounged after the receding light, heedless of the growing darkness he had to cross in the process.
Valar, don't´ leave me. Not now. Give me strength.
And just then, a new sound reached his ears. It was a voice he knew well. The sweet song gently curled around his form on the ground, carrying with it light memories of laughter and sun. The feeling of decay that had gripped him tightly shied away and withdrew. The ground sighed and slept once more. The spirits froze as if to listen, then slowly drifted away . The stone halted and allowed itself to be picked up. It glowed warmly in Aragorn´s hand, and he felt his confusion dying in its light.
He sat for a moment and recovered his strength. Somewhere behind the wall of darkness Legolas continued to sing, never faltering. Aragorn pushed himself up to face the mill once more. It still sat in its red glow as if mocking him, daring him to approach again. And he did just that.
The forms moving around the massive bulk seemed to have vanished, whether of their own will or driven back by the elf´s song he did not know. It did not matter, for as he brought himself closer, two new figures appeared from behind the mill and halted by it´s lazily rotating wheel.
Daramus turned towards the ranger with a smile. The red light seemed more dense around him, caressing him liked water floating about his broad frame. Aragorn felt his hand move towards his sword and stopped his reflex, he eyes on the still child at the old man´s side. Not now. Not yet.
The closer he came, the more apparent it was that the effect of the glow was even more pronounced on Daramus than on the mill. His body shifted and blended into itself even as he stood perfectly still, awaiting the man. He would have to get close, very close.
"Well met, brave fighter." Daramus silky voice oozed respect. "I had hoped to see you come to the rescue of this pure little soul. So predictable, my dear friend. So heroic." He sighed in obvious content. "I did not even have to call you hence to offer my conditions, you come willingly. We may get along after all, elf-friend."
Aragorn swallowed the reply that struggled to burst from him. Steadily, he walked on, careful not to rush, careful not to let his emotions take over. He passed the mill´s door and followed its bulk towards the wheel. The stone´s bright light cut through the red haze, the wooden boards of the wall suddenly steady and still as they should be.
Aragorn allowed himself a tiny feeling of triumph. A few more steps, a bit more patience, and the dance of death would begin.
"Have you not brought your elven friend?" Daramus asked innocently, as if he could not hear Legolas´s song, more subdued now so near the mill, breaking its way through shadow and fear. "I trust he is well? I could offer some assistance. But then again, he may be reluctant to accept it. Elves, always so proud." His mask slipped lightly at the last words, hatred brightly burning through them.
"He is still not well, I fear", Aragorn answered icily, "and I did not figure you would miss his presence. This is you and me, old man." His eyes sought out Telias as he spoke. The child stood motionless, still held under the spell that had forced him to Daramus´ side. The ranger did not miss how dangerously close to the wheel the boy stood, and he felt sure he was not meant to miss it, either.
Daramus laughed. "Aye, listen to yourself! Truly, a man raised by elves, infected by their façade of superiority. Do not fool yourself, that little sword at your side will be no more use to you than the knife you still carry."
His tone suddenly changed, loosing all false sweetness. "Stay, ranger! No closer, or your young friend shall take a tumble." Unwillingly supporting his captor´s threat, Telias stepped closer to the edge of the wheel, peering dreamily down into the dark water streaming there. A hoarse whisper drifted up from the depth, beckoning the child closer.
With a frown, Daramus reached out and grabbed the boy roughly by the back of his shirt. His glance then returned to Aragorn, who had come to a reluctant halt. He knew he was not close enough. Legolas´ song had died away. The elf waited for his move, he could feel it over the distance.
Daramus showed no sign of recognising the danger he was in. His voice reeked of confidence. "You took what was mine, boy, and I want it back. I know you read my parchment before it was burned. Tell me what it said. And do it now."
The hand that held Telias released him and was now loosely placed against his shoulder, ready to push. Aragorn tensed. There was no avoiding a gamble for the child´s life. He could only pray he would not raise the bets too high. He nodded to Daramus. "You will spare him once I recite the text?" The smile that answered him spread chill about them. "Aye, for the moment. Do not play games with me. Speak!"
Aragorn took one deep breath, then he raised his voice and spoke, the clear words ringing out in the night: "Heru nen lona, ni yallo elye! Qettanya nuto elye..." //Lord of the dark water, I call you. My word binds you...//
"Stop, stop now!" Daramus´ enraged voice was filled with fear. Behind him, the wheel had stopped and the water sat on it in dark patches. A distant grumbling rolled closer, making the ground shake ever so slightly. "How dare you speak that tongue to me! How dare you evoke what is mine to claim. And do not pretend you misunderstood my wish to have his translated!" In his fury, the old man had stepped away from Telias, closing in on the ranger. Aragorn seized his chance.
He grabbed the white stone and threw it at Daramus. Completely taken by surprise, the man instinctively caught it and was immediately bathed in its light, his silhouette jumping into focus. Aragorn dove past him, making a desperate lounge for the child, completely trusting the soft whistle to come even before he heard it pass over him. There was a thud and a roar of anger and pain, followed in quick succession by two more sickly impacts.
Telias suddenly jerked around, eyes wide, and backed away in horror from the old man who groped at the arrows that had pierced his body. The boy´s foot slipped over the edge he had not realized he was standing at and he fell backwards, arms flailing.
Aragorn landed on the ground with a groan and pushed himself forward, catching the child´s arm and holding on tight. Behind him, the roars of pain grew into bellows of wordless fury. Yet one more arrow could be heard finding its target, then the white stone sailed over Aragorn´s head , illuminating the frozen water briefly before plunging away.
The ranger yanked Telias roughly back onto solid ground and rolled to the side, purely on instinct. He narrowly avoided a stabbing shadow that had been aimed for his head and quickly jumped to his feet, pushing the child behind him and pulling the sword in one fluent motion. With the white stone gone, all that was left was the festering red light.
It licked and flickered savagely around the hunched figure of Daramus who stood, a bloody arrow in his hand, slightly bent but eyes raised to pierce the ranger. "You will not take what´s mine, fool." The rumbling voice had lost what traces of humanity it once possessed. "The price for your defiance will be high, and before dawn comes you will be begging ..."
Aragorn did not hear out the threat. Wordlessly he charged the old man and brought the sword around in a deadly arc that should have severed the head from Daramus´ shoulders, but the swimming outline had deceived him enough to misplace his blow, catching his opponent in the shoulder. A white-hot pain shot through his arms as the blade connected, and he fell to his knees, all breath knocked out of him.
Whatever had kept the sword from inflicting injury, it had not taken away the force of the attack, and Daramus staggered backwards, eyes suddenly huge. He tried regain his balance, glancing in obvious fear behind him where the still motionless wheel loomed.
With an effort, Aragorn drew himself up and used all force he could muster to hurl himself against the other man. The momentum was enough to carry Daramus over the edge. He fell with a scream of rage that was quickly drowned in a gurgle. The red light shot up brightly and then died away, leaving Aragorn lying at the edge, panting, in darkness.
Immediately, he could feel the ground beneath him heave a breath. Not far behind him Telias screamed in fear. Aragorn scrambled to his feet hurriedly, following the sound. His right arm was completely numb and hung at his side uselessly, but he used the left to grope the darkness for the boy. A wave of relief washed over him when he found him, and the child wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in the man´s tunic.
Aragorn knew that he had to make it inside, and fast. He did not welcome the thought of entering the mill, but returning to the village was out of question. Already he could feel unseen foes close in on him. All he could do was grab the child and run.
Sweeping Telias up into his good arm, Aragorn turned to where he suspected the mill to be one ran. The earth bucked beneath him as if trying to throw him of balance, and he could feel something cold brush past his arm, but there was no time for fear now. Out of the corner of his eye his thought to detect a small light moving closer at great speed.
Suddenly, a violent impact from behind threw him to his knees. Hot breath touched his cheek, on overwhelming smell of earth and decay washing over him, and then a searing pain tore across his back. He screamed and twisted away, trying to shield Telias who still clung to him, hampering his movements. His knife found its way into his hand all by itself and he took a swing at the unseen shape.
With a satisfied grunt Aragorn felt the blade sink into something fairly solid, going in to the hilt. His hand brushed something wet which jerked away at the attack, ripping his knife from his grip. He cursed, trying to get back onto his feet but finding it impossible to rise from a ground that mercilessly shifted and turned beneath him. He more sensed that heard another attack coming and threw himself flat onto the grass. A jaw snapped close, barely missing him. There was no escaping the next bite, and he knew it. Red eyes briefly flashed above him, then suddenly turned around.
Aragorn could feel the creature jump away from him with a snarl that turned into a pain-streaked howl. A pale light appeared at his side and he dimly recognised Legolas, a torch in one hand and a long dagger in the other. The elf thrust the torch at Aragorn who numbly took it, scrambling to his feet. His back was on fire.
Before him, Legolas turned against their foe again, not waiting for the dark bulk to recover but gracefully moving in on him with deadly precision. Two swift strokes drove the creature backwards, baring large teeth, then cringing out of the elf´s reach. It looked vaguely like a wrag to Aargorn, but then again, it was different. Its hide seemed to consists of patches of grass that dripped liquid, steaming.
"Estel, trevedo!" //Estel, go!// Legolas´ sharp order snapped the ranger out of his slight stupor. He could detect traces of pain in his friend´s voice, and holding the torch higher, he realized that the elf was literally covered in cuts and what looked like bite-marks, blood streaming down his hands that were lifted again, awaiting the next attack. Even tough the elf´s movements were precise, there was a slight trembling going though his frame as he took his stance, a trembling that clearly spoke of the fatigue he had to feel.
Pulling Telias up once more, Aragorn found the mill only steps behind them, its dark form anything but inviting. There was nowhere else to run to, however, and even though every ounce of his soul screamed for him to turn and seek his fortune in the growling darkness, he slowly approached the entrance, eyes darting back and forth between the elf and the door.
Legolas seemed to notice his hesitation. Without taking his glare of the shapes moving around them he hissed: "Estel, aldartho, im aphad cen." //Estel, don't wait, I [will] follow you.// Knowing that any delay would only make the situation worse and painfully aware that he was not fit to fight, Aragorn heeded his friend´s order and made for the mill´s entrance in a dash. He had just reached it, when he heard a howl behind him. Then a second. Even before he turned around he knew what he would see. And he dreaded the sight.
TBC
Here´s the next chapter - but I´m warning you, this really came out very, very weird (even for me...) Wrote this in the middle of the night - well, you´ll see. I just love the idea of the ghosts, and in this particular scene I can allow Aragorn to see some, too - one bad thing about writing from Aragorn´s perspective is we never really get to see them when Legoas does, what a drawback....
But enough of this, just enjoy, and PLEASE let me know what you think.
Review responses:
Aliyan: You like dark and creepy? Than this chapter is for you - and you´ll like the end of it, too, poor elf (again). Keep reviewing!
Rangergirl: Thanks!! I´m glad you enjoy the story - lots of angst for Aragorn in this chapter, hope you like it!
Lyn: NOTHING prevents me from writing this, at least not for long - this story is haunting me...Thanks for the language hint, I should know this, but (sigh) you now how it is...please point out anything that seems wrong/weird to you, I´m always glad to improve my English (one reason to write in English). Keep up the reviews!
Star Stallion. Thanks so much! Here´s the update, hope you like it!
Red Tigress: Me, leaving Legolas out?? No way, believe me, he´ll be there, and of course that means trouble. Why are we all so mean?! :)
OK, on to the chapter.
Enjoy!!
Alinah
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: Not mine
Risks worth taking
The sounds of living darkness gathered around Aragorn as he walked, and he felt acutely alone. Some small inner voice questioned the wisdom of leaving Legolas behind, but he had to have faith in their plan. He could feel his friend´s eyes on him, watching his every move, and willed himself to be reassured. Shivering, he remembred his flight from the mill and became painfully aware that even with the unconscious elf at his side he had unknowingly drawn strength from another living being´s presence. Now, there was nothing but the cold steel of the sword for company, and a poor substitute it was.
The white stone shone brightly for him, driving away the shadows. They backed down reluctantly, but back down they did. A mouldy scent drifted across from the mill and grew more intense as he approached. It drew forth the smoky silhouette of a memory, less veiled now after he had recalled most of what had lead to this predicament, and he could almost hear the tortured neigh of a horse. A sharp pain laced through his left knee and faded away. Somewhere in the distance an impatient hoof stamped the damp ground. The unmistakable sound of a horse chewing on a bridle´s bit was suddenly at his side, so close he felt he could reach out and feel - what? He glanced in the direction of the presence and sensed movement just beyond the edge of light. Dark and frightened. Blood and wet earth mingled.
Forcing his senses away from the dread that threatened to overwhelm him with so little a reason, Aragorn fixed his eyes on the red light that still streamed from the mill before him. The longer he looked at it, the more obvious it became that the light clouded more than it revealed. The walls´ outlines swam and breathed as he looked at them, making him feel dizzy. He squinted, trying to figure out whether Daramus and the boy had stepped outside already. He was sure the door had not opened ever since the light had appeared, but he seemed to detect figures moving around in the red haze.
A sigh. Aragorn flinched violently, whirling around towards the sound to his left. The stone´s moving beam briefly caught the shadow of a man, armour tattered. Their eyes met, and a smile spread over grey lips. Then there was nothing.
Aargorn heart raced along at a pace that was almost painful. He did not halt his movement and turned further, the light flickering across more faces, bodies crowded around him. In the fleeting heartbeats it took the light to erase their forms, he could see them looking at him with hope, with fear, with pity. An endless stream of petitioners begging for release. Or maybe just lost souls welcoming a new comrade. His foot caught against a rock on the ground and send him tumbling.
Completely off balance in body and spirit, he fell. The white stone was knocked loose and rolled over the dark ground. The light was drawn away from him with it, allowing the drifting shapes closer. It highlighted legs and feet as it rolled, naked toes, broad boots, the hooves of a horse, restlessly shifting. The ground heaved, preparing to open and swallow his last hope of safety. He lounged after the receding light, heedless of the growing darkness he had to cross in the process.
Valar, don't´ leave me. Not now. Give me strength.
And just then, a new sound reached his ears. It was a voice he knew well. The sweet song gently curled around his form on the ground, carrying with it light memories of laughter and sun. The feeling of decay that had gripped him tightly shied away and withdrew. The ground sighed and slept once more. The spirits froze as if to listen, then slowly drifted away . The stone halted and allowed itself to be picked up. It glowed warmly in Aragorn´s hand, and he felt his confusion dying in its light.
He sat for a moment and recovered his strength. Somewhere behind the wall of darkness Legolas continued to sing, never faltering. Aragorn pushed himself up to face the mill once more. It still sat in its red glow as if mocking him, daring him to approach again. And he did just that.
The forms moving around the massive bulk seemed to have vanished, whether of their own will or driven back by the elf´s song he did not know. It did not matter, for as he brought himself closer, two new figures appeared from behind the mill and halted by it´s lazily rotating wheel.
Daramus turned towards the ranger with a smile. The red light seemed more dense around him, caressing him liked water floating about his broad frame. Aragorn felt his hand move towards his sword and stopped his reflex, he eyes on the still child at the old man´s side. Not now. Not yet.
The closer he came, the more apparent it was that the effect of the glow was even more pronounced on Daramus than on the mill. His body shifted and blended into itself even as he stood perfectly still, awaiting the man. He would have to get close, very close.
"Well met, brave fighter." Daramus silky voice oozed respect. "I had hoped to see you come to the rescue of this pure little soul. So predictable, my dear friend. So heroic." He sighed in obvious content. "I did not even have to call you hence to offer my conditions, you come willingly. We may get along after all, elf-friend."
Aragorn swallowed the reply that struggled to burst from him. Steadily, he walked on, careful not to rush, careful not to let his emotions take over. He passed the mill´s door and followed its bulk towards the wheel. The stone´s bright light cut through the red haze, the wooden boards of the wall suddenly steady and still as they should be.
Aragorn allowed himself a tiny feeling of triumph. A few more steps, a bit more patience, and the dance of death would begin.
"Have you not brought your elven friend?" Daramus asked innocently, as if he could not hear Legolas´s song, more subdued now so near the mill, breaking its way through shadow and fear. "I trust he is well? I could offer some assistance. But then again, he may be reluctant to accept it. Elves, always so proud." His mask slipped lightly at the last words, hatred brightly burning through them.
"He is still not well, I fear", Aragorn answered icily, "and I did not figure you would miss his presence. This is you and me, old man." His eyes sought out Telias as he spoke. The child stood motionless, still held under the spell that had forced him to Daramus´ side. The ranger did not miss how dangerously close to the wheel the boy stood, and he felt sure he was not meant to miss it, either.
Daramus laughed. "Aye, listen to yourself! Truly, a man raised by elves, infected by their façade of superiority. Do not fool yourself, that little sword at your side will be no more use to you than the knife you still carry."
His tone suddenly changed, loosing all false sweetness. "Stay, ranger! No closer, or your young friend shall take a tumble." Unwillingly supporting his captor´s threat, Telias stepped closer to the edge of the wheel, peering dreamily down into the dark water streaming there. A hoarse whisper drifted up from the depth, beckoning the child closer.
With a frown, Daramus reached out and grabbed the boy roughly by the back of his shirt. His glance then returned to Aragorn, who had come to a reluctant halt. He knew he was not close enough. Legolas´ song had died away. The elf waited for his move, he could feel it over the distance.
Daramus showed no sign of recognising the danger he was in. His voice reeked of confidence. "You took what was mine, boy, and I want it back. I know you read my parchment before it was burned. Tell me what it said. And do it now."
The hand that held Telias released him and was now loosely placed against his shoulder, ready to push. Aragorn tensed. There was no avoiding a gamble for the child´s life. He could only pray he would not raise the bets too high. He nodded to Daramus. "You will spare him once I recite the text?" The smile that answered him spread chill about them. "Aye, for the moment. Do not play games with me. Speak!"
Aragorn took one deep breath, then he raised his voice and spoke, the clear words ringing out in the night: "Heru nen lona, ni yallo elye! Qettanya nuto elye..." //Lord of the dark water, I call you. My word binds you...//
"Stop, stop now!" Daramus´ enraged voice was filled with fear. Behind him, the wheel had stopped and the water sat on it in dark patches. A distant grumbling rolled closer, making the ground shake ever so slightly. "How dare you speak that tongue to me! How dare you evoke what is mine to claim. And do not pretend you misunderstood my wish to have his translated!" In his fury, the old man had stepped away from Telias, closing in on the ranger. Aragorn seized his chance.
He grabbed the white stone and threw it at Daramus. Completely taken by surprise, the man instinctively caught it and was immediately bathed in its light, his silhouette jumping into focus. Aragorn dove past him, making a desperate lounge for the child, completely trusting the soft whistle to come even before he heard it pass over him. There was a thud and a roar of anger and pain, followed in quick succession by two more sickly impacts.
Telias suddenly jerked around, eyes wide, and backed away in horror from the old man who groped at the arrows that had pierced his body. The boy´s foot slipped over the edge he had not realized he was standing at and he fell backwards, arms flailing.
Aragorn landed on the ground with a groan and pushed himself forward, catching the child´s arm and holding on tight. Behind him, the roars of pain grew into bellows of wordless fury. Yet one more arrow could be heard finding its target, then the white stone sailed over Aragorn´s head , illuminating the frozen water briefly before plunging away.
The ranger yanked Telias roughly back onto solid ground and rolled to the side, purely on instinct. He narrowly avoided a stabbing shadow that had been aimed for his head and quickly jumped to his feet, pushing the child behind him and pulling the sword in one fluent motion. With the white stone gone, all that was left was the festering red light.
It licked and flickered savagely around the hunched figure of Daramus who stood, a bloody arrow in his hand, slightly bent but eyes raised to pierce the ranger. "You will not take what´s mine, fool." The rumbling voice had lost what traces of humanity it once possessed. "The price for your defiance will be high, and before dawn comes you will be begging ..."
Aragorn did not hear out the threat. Wordlessly he charged the old man and brought the sword around in a deadly arc that should have severed the head from Daramus´ shoulders, but the swimming outline had deceived him enough to misplace his blow, catching his opponent in the shoulder. A white-hot pain shot through his arms as the blade connected, and he fell to his knees, all breath knocked out of him.
Whatever had kept the sword from inflicting injury, it had not taken away the force of the attack, and Daramus staggered backwards, eyes suddenly huge. He tried regain his balance, glancing in obvious fear behind him where the still motionless wheel loomed.
With an effort, Aragorn drew himself up and used all force he could muster to hurl himself against the other man. The momentum was enough to carry Daramus over the edge. He fell with a scream of rage that was quickly drowned in a gurgle. The red light shot up brightly and then died away, leaving Aragorn lying at the edge, panting, in darkness.
Immediately, he could feel the ground beneath him heave a breath. Not far behind him Telias screamed in fear. Aragorn scrambled to his feet hurriedly, following the sound. His right arm was completely numb and hung at his side uselessly, but he used the left to grope the darkness for the boy. A wave of relief washed over him when he found him, and the child wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in the man´s tunic.
Aragorn knew that he had to make it inside, and fast. He did not welcome the thought of entering the mill, but returning to the village was out of question. Already he could feel unseen foes close in on him. All he could do was grab the child and run.
Sweeping Telias up into his good arm, Aragorn turned to where he suspected the mill to be one ran. The earth bucked beneath him as if trying to throw him of balance, and he could feel something cold brush past his arm, but there was no time for fear now. Out of the corner of his eye his thought to detect a small light moving closer at great speed.
Suddenly, a violent impact from behind threw him to his knees. Hot breath touched his cheek, on overwhelming smell of earth and decay washing over him, and then a searing pain tore across his back. He screamed and twisted away, trying to shield Telias who still clung to him, hampering his movements. His knife found its way into his hand all by itself and he took a swing at the unseen shape.
With a satisfied grunt Aragorn felt the blade sink into something fairly solid, going in to the hilt. His hand brushed something wet which jerked away at the attack, ripping his knife from his grip. He cursed, trying to get back onto his feet but finding it impossible to rise from a ground that mercilessly shifted and turned beneath him. He more sensed that heard another attack coming and threw himself flat onto the grass. A jaw snapped close, barely missing him. There was no escaping the next bite, and he knew it. Red eyes briefly flashed above him, then suddenly turned around.
Aragorn could feel the creature jump away from him with a snarl that turned into a pain-streaked howl. A pale light appeared at his side and he dimly recognised Legolas, a torch in one hand and a long dagger in the other. The elf thrust the torch at Aragorn who numbly took it, scrambling to his feet. His back was on fire.
Before him, Legolas turned against their foe again, not waiting for the dark bulk to recover but gracefully moving in on him with deadly precision. Two swift strokes drove the creature backwards, baring large teeth, then cringing out of the elf´s reach. It looked vaguely like a wrag to Aargorn, but then again, it was different. Its hide seemed to consists of patches of grass that dripped liquid, steaming.
"Estel, trevedo!" //Estel, go!// Legolas´ sharp order snapped the ranger out of his slight stupor. He could detect traces of pain in his friend´s voice, and holding the torch higher, he realized that the elf was literally covered in cuts and what looked like bite-marks, blood streaming down his hands that were lifted again, awaiting the next attack. Even tough the elf´s movements were precise, there was a slight trembling going though his frame as he took his stance, a trembling that clearly spoke of the fatigue he had to feel.
Pulling Telias up once more, Aragorn found the mill only steps behind them, its dark form anything but inviting. There was nowhere else to run to, however, and even though every ounce of his soul screamed for him to turn and seek his fortune in the growling darkness, he slowly approached the entrance, eyes darting back and forth between the elf and the door.
Legolas seemed to notice his hesitation. Without taking his glare of the shapes moving around them he hissed: "Estel, aldartho, im aphad cen." //Estel, don't wait, I [will] follow you.// Knowing that any delay would only make the situation worse and painfully aware that he was not fit to fight, Aragorn heeded his friend´s order and made for the mill´s entrance in a dash. He had just reached it, when he heard a howl behind him. Then a second. Even before he turned around he knew what he would see. And he dreaded the sight.
TBC
