Hello everybody!
Bit shorter chapter this time - hope you like it! This one fought being written, thanks to Mor and San for the input.
Review responses:
Sammy: Thanks! And yes, you can expect more to come...
Red Tigress: MISTER Aragorn?? Hadn´t even thought of it that way LOL. Anyway, more creepy stuff on the way, hope you enjoy.
Alariel: Hmm, you like guessing, don´t you?? Nice try, trophies is right in a way - can you also guess how the next chapter continues (that´ll be an easy guess in a way - or not...)
Lily: No, I thank you! I appreciate you took the time to review, glad you like it.
Gozilla: Thanks so much!! I can only hope you keep liking it.
Ertia: OK, breathe SLOWLY... better now? I hope you´ll actually like what they see - but I do have the feeling you won´t be happy with the end of the chapter (* sneaks away and hides*)
Nightshadow 131: Thanks!! And yes, of course, more trouble for our favourite elf - this tale is NOT easy on him... Keep up your reviews!
THANKS SO MUCH to all your reviewers - everybody, please feel free to comment.
But now, on to the next chapter.
Enjoy.
Alinah
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: No, I`m NOT Tolkien, not mine
Battle of minds
The thunder of the water rushed beneath Aragorn´s feet, the sound greedily reaching for him, but not yet close enough. Not yet.
The man stared wide-eyed at what the light revealed around him. The walls were covered in runes. He recognized the sharp-edged letters often used by the dwarves, but also by various other races. They had carefully, neatly been painted into the spaces among the various shelves. They looked to be of a dark, slightly reddish color. He did not want to dwell upon what that might mean. This was not what scared him, nor was it what haunted Legolas.
As he watched, the runes seemed to blur and shift, struggling to be released. They shivered, burned and twisted as if trying to free themselves, yet unable to escape the words they were forced to form, the language they were enslaved to carry. The Black Tongue.
Aragorn´s stomach gave a sudden lurch and he quickly closed his eyes, desperately trying to shut out the images that, unbidden, began to form inside of him. A darkness stretching beyond the boundaries of his soul; a white city swarmed by black masses of orcs; a noble warrior, stranger and still close to his heart, falling dead pierced by black arrows; Arwen with tears in her eyes, so desperate. Sweet Arwen...
"Estel!" Legolas´ voice sounded breathless for some reason. "Estel, turn to me! Look at me!" Dazed, the ranger obliged without ever really deciding to do so, and found himself looking into Legolas´ searching blue eyes. He sank down in front of his friend, his knees suddenly weak but his heart slightly lightened as if a great burden had at least lessened, if not disappeared.
The ranger shook his head slowly, clearing his mind of the cloud that had veiled it. "You should not study it", Legolas said softly, "even though you may not know the words."
"Nay, I do not understand their meaning." Aragorn answered, idly wondering whether the elf knew better. "Yet I knew it for what it was." The elf´s low chuckle carried none of its usual mirth. "Oh, aye, you would. It makes itself known wherever it might ensnare another soul. Guard yours, Estel, do not look at it."
Aragorn straightened at these words, feeling his heartbeat quicken. He bit back a sharp reply. It would not do to quarrel with Legolas now just because he followed eleven nature. Elves usually considered themselves above others, after all, and it was only logical for Legolas to assume that his friend, the inferior human, would easily succumb to whatever evil inhabited this room. He stood and could feel the clear blue eyes following him intently. "Estel?" Still waiting for a reply. For the human to acknowledge his weakness. "I´ll take care."
He watched as Legolas´ smooth forehead was marred by a frown. Blood was seeping through the bandage on his leg. His ivory skin was even paler than usual, some tiny beats of sweat collecting at his temples. Not so perfect after all. Almost human he looked, and certainly not stronger than Aragorn felt. But he frowned. He doubted.
The ranger turned and walked towards the shelves. He did not deliberately look at the runes, but he could detect them from the corners of his eyes, writhing and winding more slowly now, with so much more care. Whispering in low tones.
Satisfied that he was in no danger whatsoever, contrary to the haughty elf´s beliefs, he let his eyes travel along the assorted objects that Daramus had crowded onto the dark wooden boards. There were books, bottles whose contents remained a mystery, coated in dust as they were, boxes of different shapes and sizes... There was no obvious order to things, but even with his limited human sight, Aragorn easily realized that one shelf held significantly less dust than the others, so he turned there first.
The murmuring around him increased slightly, but he shut it out before it could become anything beyond lightly bothersome. He smiled at his control and stepped closer, his feeling of triumph mounting when he saw a small bag sitting among some boxes. His bag. His coins. He picked the bag up and fastened it to his belt with a feeling of deep satisfaction. "What have you found?" Legolas clear voice momentarily startled him, as much as the question itself did. Did he not have his eleven senses to keep him informed?
Instead of answering, the man found himself intrigued by an open book the bag of coins had sat on. He pulled it closer and studied its writing - dwarvish. "Tirad le eden?"//Do you see [anything] new?// Aragorn actually found himself jumping at the question this time and shook his head in irritation. Did the elf think that inquiring in his own tongue would get him quicker answers? For the sake of his peace Aragorn replied: "I got my coins back. There was a dwarvish book beneath."
He turned his attention to the angular letters before him again, and found it striking how closely they resembled those on the wall. Did they not? He looked up to make sure and saw that the symbols on the walls had stopped moving - all they seemed to do now was burn in a warm glow. Rather pleasant, really. "Estel, altirado thiw um!" //Estel, don´t look at the evil letters!// Legolas´ voice was thickly drenched in worry. With minimum effort Aragorn tore his gaze away, fighting down the mounting anger he felt. He knew that he had to reassure the elf if he wanted the silly creature off his back.
"Relax, they have not eaten me. I´m fine!" He carefully schooled his features to reflect a calm he did not feel in the face of the doubts considering his strength, but knowing the elf´s stubbornness he would have to demonstrate the fact. He turned from the book he should have been studying to where Legolas sat and saw the elf struggling to get his feet, or rather, foot. He looked positively disgraceful, but Aragorn chose to ignore the opportunity to gripe.
"What do you think you are doing?" he asked instead, "keep in that seat, I don´t feel like carrying you around a second time tonight, once was quite enough." Satisfied that the elf did indeed lower himself back down - with considerable trouble, too - he continued: "I am doing very well over here, really. Don´t worry." Valar, but Elves had piercing stares! He had suffered from them enough during his childhood to be able to bear them with little reaction, but Legolas almost stabbed him with his glare.
"Thir cin almae", //You don´t look well.// the eldar observed. Aragorn shrugged and turned quickly when he felt his mask of goodwill slip. Why did he insist on speaking that language, if he had to patronize his weak human friend he might just as well do so in said human´s tongue. That would at least be easier on Aragorn´s ears which were beginning to ring from the harsh sounds. He felt himself turning to the soft whispering still encompassing him for comfort, and sighed with relief when he found some.
Looking back at the book, finally with some peace and quiet to actually study it, he found to his dismay that most of the words were alien to him. More than they should have been. Had he not spent endless hours in Lord Elrond´s musty study, forced to translate old texts that were beyond any meaning, only to gain some expertise in the small folks language? And now, in the one situation in his life were this knowledge might actually have been helpful, it failed him.
"Tego parf anim, Estel. Gwa..." //Bring me the book, Estel. Together...// No, no, not those sounds again! Aragorn cringed at the pain that flashed through him and he turned angrily, the book tightly gripped in his left hand - and less tightly in his right, too. His weaknesses were diminishing by the minute, but still he was being lectured like a child! He was mildly encouraged by the look that briefly crossed the elf´s features - fear.
"So, you think you will do better than me?" He no longer bothered to keep the snarl from his voice. "At Dwarvish? And you of all people, raised by a father who loathes all that are not of your lofty race!" "Estel!" There was more alarm than anger in the fair eyes, infuriating Aragorn even more. "Well, fine, prove it, then!" With one flick of his wrist, he threw the book across the room, aiming in the general direction of the elf and slightly surprised at the cry of pain that followed.
Unwittingly, he had hit the injured leg. Famed elven reflexes were obviously not up their reputation. He watched the elf draw his leg up in agony, strangely impassive. Part of him rebelled at the sight, wanting to rush over and help - but another part revelled in what he saw. The gentle murmur around him intensified, quickly drowning any guilt that might have grown inside him, and guided his gaze away from the elf, to a more rewarding object of attention.
Only a few paces away there was another table, one he had overlooked so far. On it sat a small orb, seemingly made of some light stone. Its surface wavered and moved in the flickering light, encouraging him to touch. He reached out carefully, a bit apprehensive about lying hand on something this beautiful. The little globe radiated a comforting warmth. He felt a smile cross his lips.
"Estel, baw!" The cry split the peace around Aragorn as an axe splits a living tree and he groaned at the pain. He no longer understood the screeching words, but he caught their intention. "You will no longer keep me weak!", he spat, "you will not tell me what to do!" He heard the elvish wail again, but paid it no heed - but then it was joined by another sound. "Master Aargorn, what are you doing?"
The ranger´s head shot up and he locked eyes with a tearful little boy. Telias. He knelt by Legolas, half clinging to him in fear, half trying to staunch the fresh blood that streamed from the elf´s leg. Valar, it was bleeding badly, how had he hurt himself all over again...Aragorn could feel confusion turn to panic and he tried to snatch his hand back, but it was too late. A force beyond his control lowered his hand for him. Then he was lost.
Black clouds swirled around him, and his heart clenched. He could feel the evil around smothering him and mingling with fear and loss. Faces drifted past him, men and women, young and old, children, united in their suffering. He tried to reach out to them, help them somehow, but he felt that his body was no longer under his command and he lashed out at them instead, driving them away.
Laughter rang through him, a voice he had hoped to never hear again. "Well-met again, my little saviour." A quiver of glee burned through the words like acid. "And again you have come to help me. I will forever be in your dept, even though that will be a terribly short time for you."
Aargorn squirmed angrily in his attempts to shut out the shrill laughter that flooded him but could not. He was not even able to word a reply. He could only float and watch. "Yes, weak human." The voice had come even closer. A soft breath brushed past his ear. "You will be a visitor in your body for a small while. Watch yourself take care of the only creature in my realm that I might have trouble killing. And when you have slaughtered him, you will have the honor of watching the others die. You will be last, and by then I will have gained the power to break free." He could feel the chuckle gently wash through his chest. "Keep your scroll, I no longer need to call the soul´s master. I no longer seek oblivion. You have given me the chance to live."
Abruptly, Aragorn felt himself released, pushed back to where he had come from. The laughter followed him like a light breeze. "Enjoy the ride, ranger." Desperately, Aragorn tried to prepare himself for what was to come, for the voices that would no doubt twist him again, make him hate whom he would die for - but when the voices came, their sound was strong. It drowned his spirit, pushing it back to watch helplessly as the battle began.
TBC
Bit shorter chapter this time - hope you like it! This one fought being written, thanks to Mor and San for the input.
Review responses:
Sammy: Thanks! And yes, you can expect more to come...
Red Tigress: MISTER Aragorn?? Hadn´t even thought of it that way LOL. Anyway, more creepy stuff on the way, hope you enjoy.
Alariel: Hmm, you like guessing, don´t you?? Nice try, trophies is right in a way - can you also guess how the next chapter continues (that´ll be an easy guess in a way - or not...)
Lily: No, I thank you! I appreciate you took the time to review, glad you like it.
Gozilla: Thanks so much!! I can only hope you keep liking it.
Ertia: OK, breathe SLOWLY... better now? I hope you´ll actually like what they see - but I do have the feeling you won´t be happy with the end of the chapter (* sneaks away and hides*)
Nightshadow 131: Thanks!! And yes, of course, more trouble for our favourite elf - this tale is NOT easy on him... Keep up your reviews!
THANKS SO MUCH to all your reviewers - everybody, please feel free to comment.
But now, on to the next chapter.
Enjoy.
Alinah
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: No, I`m NOT Tolkien, not mine
Battle of minds
The thunder of the water rushed beneath Aragorn´s feet, the sound greedily reaching for him, but not yet close enough. Not yet.
The man stared wide-eyed at what the light revealed around him. The walls were covered in runes. He recognized the sharp-edged letters often used by the dwarves, but also by various other races. They had carefully, neatly been painted into the spaces among the various shelves. They looked to be of a dark, slightly reddish color. He did not want to dwell upon what that might mean. This was not what scared him, nor was it what haunted Legolas.
As he watched, the runes seemed to blur and shift, struggling to be released. They shivered, burned and twisted as if trying to free themselves, yet unable to escape the words they were forced to form, the language they were enslaved to carry. The Black Tongue.
Aragorn´s stomach gave a sudden lurch and he quickly closed his eyes, desperately trying to shut out the images that, unbidden, began to form inside of him. A darkness stretching beyond the boundaries of his soul; a white city swarmed by black masses of orcs; a noble warrior, stranger and still close to his heart, falling dead pierced by black arrows; Arwen with tears in her eyes, so desperate. Sweet Arwen...
"Estel!" Legolas´ voice sounded breathless for some reason. "Estel, turn to me! Look at me!" Dazed, the ranger obliged without ever really deciding to do so, and found himself looking into Legolas´ searching blue eyes. He sank down in front of his friend, his knees suddenly weak but his heart slightly lightened as if a great burden had at least lessened, if not disappeared.
The ranger shook his head slowly, clearing his mind of the cloud that had veiled it. "You should not study it", Legolas said softly, "even though you may not know the words."
"Nay, I do not understand their meaning." Aragorn answered, idly wondering whether the elf knew better. "Yet I knew it for what it was." The elf´s low chuckle carried none of its usual mirth. "Oh, aye, you would. It makes itself known wherever it might ensnare another soul. Guard yours, Estel, do not look at it."
Aragorn straightened at these words, feeling his heartbeat quicken. He bit back a sharp reply. It would not do to quarrel with Legolas now just because he followed eleven nature. Elves usually considered themselves above others, after all, and it was only logical for Legolas to assume that his friend, the inferior human, would easily succumb to whatever evil inhabited this room. He stood and could feel the clear blue eyes following him intently. "Estel?" Still waiting for a reply. For the human to acknowledge his weakness. "I´ll take care."
He watched as Legolas´ smooth forehead was marred by a frown. Blood was seeping through the bandage on his leg. His ivory skin was even paler than usual, some tiny beats of sweat collecting at his temples. Not so perfect after all. Almost human he looked, and certainly not stronger than Aragorn felt. But he frowned. He doubted.
The ranger turned and walked towards the shelves. He did not deliberately look at the runes, but he could detect them from the corners of his eyes, writhing and winding more slowly now, with so much more care. Whispering in low tones.
Satisfied that he was in no danger whatsoever, contrary to the haughty elf´s beliefs, he let his eyes travel along the assorted objects that Daramus had crowded onto the dark wooden boards. There were books, bottles whose contents remained a mystery, coated in dust as they were, boxes of different shapes and sizes... There was no obvious order to things, but even with his limited human sight, Aragorn easily realized that one shelf held significantly less dust than the others, so he turned there first.
The murmuring around him increased slightly, but he shut it out before it could become anything beyond lightly bothersome. He smiled at his control and stepped closer, his feeling of triumph mounting when he saw a small bag sitting among some boxes. His bag. His coins. He picked the bag up and fastened it to his belt with a feeling of deep satisfaction. "What have you found?" Legolas clear voice momentarily startled him, as much as the question itself did. Did he not have his eleven senses to keep him informed?
Instead of answering, the man found himself intrigued by an open book the bag of coins had sat on. He pulled it closer and studied its writing - dwarvish. "Tirad le eden?"//Do you see [anything] new?// Aragorn actually found himself jumping at the question this time and shook his head in irritation. Did the elf think that inquiring in his own tongue would get him quicker answers? For the sake of his peace Aragorn replied: "I got my coins back. There was a dwarvish book beneath."
He turned his attention to the angular letters before him again, and found it striking how closely they resembled those on the wall. Did they not? He looked up to make sure and saw that the symbols on the walls had stopped moving - all they seemed to do now was burn in a warm glow. Rather pleasant, really. "Estel, altirado thiw um!" //Estel, don´t look at the evil letters!// Legolas´ voice was thickly drenched in worry. With minimum effort Aragorn tore his gaze away, fighting down the mounting anger he felt. He knew that he had to reassure the elf if he wanted the silly creature off his back.
"Relax, they have not eaten me. I´m fine!" He carefully schooled his features to reflect a calm he did not feel in the face of the doubts considering his strength, but knowing the elf´s stubbornness he would have to demonstrate the fact. He turned from the book he should have been studying to where Legolas sat and saw the elf struggling to get his feet, or rather, foot. He looked positively disgraceful, but Aragorn chose to ignore the opportunity to gripe.
"What do you think you are doing?" he asked instead, "keep in that seat, I don´t feel like carrying you around a second time tonight, once was quite enough." Satisfied that the elf did indeed lower himself back down - with considerable trouble, too - he continued: "I am doing very well over here, really. Don´t worry." Valar, but Elves had piercing stares! He had suffered from them enough during his childhood to be able to bear them with little reaction, but Legolas almost stabbed him with his glare.
"Thir cin almae", //You don´t look well.// the eldar observed. Aragorn shrugged and turned quickly when he felt his mask of goodwill slip. Why did he insist on speaking that language, if he had to patronize his weak human friend he might just as well do so in said human´s tongue. That would at least be easier on Aragorn´s ears which were beginning to ring from the harsh sounds. He felt himself turning to the soft whispering still encompassing him for comfort, and sighed with relief when he found some.
Looking back at the book, finally with some peace and quiet to actually study it, he found to his dismay that most of the words were alien to him. More than they should have been. Had he not spent endless hours in Lord Elrond´s musty study, forced to translate old texts that were beyond any meaning, only to gain some expertise in the small folks language? And now, in the one situation in his life were this knowledge might actually have been helpful, it failed him.
"Tego parf anim, Estel. Gwa..." //Bring me the book, Estel. Together...// No, no, not those sounds again! Aragorn cringed at the pain that flashed through him and he turned angrily, the book tightly gripped in his left hand - and less tightly in his right, too. His weaknesses were diminishing by the minute, but still he was being lectured like a child! He was mildly encouraged by the look that briefly crossed the elf´s features - fear.
"So, you think you will do better than me?" He no longer bothered to keep the snarl from his voice. "At Dwarvish? And you of all people, raised by a father who loathes all that are not of your lofty race!" "Estel!" There was more alarm than anger in the fair eyes, infuriating Aragorn even more. "Well, fine, prove it, then!" With one flick of his wrist, he threw the book across the room, aiming in the general direction of the elf and slightly surprised at the cry of pain that followed.
Unwittingly, he had hit the injured leg. Famed elven reflexes were obviously not up their reputation. He watched the elf draw his leg up in agony, strangely impassive. Part of him rebelled at the sight, wanting to rush over and help - but another part revelled in what he saw. The gentle murmur around him intensified, quickly drowning any guilt that might have grown inside him, and guided his gaze away from the elf, to a more rewarding object of attention.
Only a few paces away there was another table, one he had overlooked so far. On it sat a small orb, seemingly made of some light stone. Its surface wavered and moved in the flickering light, encouraging him to touch. He reached out carefully, a bit apprehensive about lying hand on something this beautiful. The little globe radiated a comforting warmth. He felt a smile cross his lips.
"Estel, baw!" The cry split the peace around Aragorn as an axe splits a living tree and he groaned at the pain. He no longer understood the screeching words, but he caught their intention. "You will no longer keep me weak!", he spat, "you will not tell me what to do!" He heard the elvish wail again, but paid it no heed - but then it was joined by another sound. "Master Aargorn, what are you doing?"
The ranger´s head shot up and he locked eyes with a tearful little boy. Telias. He knelt by Legolas, half clinging to him in fear, half trying to staunch the fresh blood that streamed from the elf´s leg. Valar, it was bleeding badly, how had he hurt himself all over again...Aragorn could feel confusion turn to panic and he tried to snatch his hand back, but it was too late. A force beyond his control lowered his hand for him. Then he was lost.
Black clouds swirled around him, and his heart clenched. He could feel the evil around smothering him and mingling with fear and loss. Faces drifted past him, men and women, young and old, children, united in their suffering. He tried to reach out to them, help them somehow, but he felt that his body was no longer under his command and he lashed out at them instead, driving them away.
Laughter rang through him, a voice he had hoped to never hear again. "Well-met again, my little saviour." A quiver of glee burned through the words like acid. "And again you have come to help me. I will forever be in your dept, even though that will be a terribly short time for you."
Aargorn squirmed angrily in his attempts to shut out the shrill laughter that flooded him but could not. He was not even able to word a reply. He could only float and watch. "Yes, weak human." The voice had come even closer. A soft breath brushed past his ear. "You will be a visitor in your body for a small while. Watch yourself take care of the only creature in my realm that I might have trouble killing. And when you have slaughtered him, you will have the honor of watching the others die. You will be last, and by then I will have gained the power to break free." He could feel the chuckle gently wash through his chest. "Keep your scroll, I no longer need to call the soul´s master. I no longer seek oblivion. You have given me the chance to live."
Abruptly, Aragorn felt himself released, pushed back to where he had come from. The laughter followed him like a light breeze. "Enjoy the ride, ranger." Desperately, Aragorn tried to prepare himself for what was to come, for the voices that would no doubt twist him again, make him hate whom he would die for - but when the voices came, their sound was strong. It drowned his spirit, pushing it back to watch helplessly as the battle began.
TBC
