Hi there!
New chapter - show-down should not be far off now, unless the characters decide otherwise. Sorry, sorry, I hurt Legolas again- just seemed to be no way around it.
Review responses:
Vicky Turner: Thanks so much! Glad you like it - and of course, I don´t want any ready to die of a hreat attack, so here´s your new chapter - I hope you like it!
Alexa: PLEASE don´t hurt Aragorn, OK? This is not his fault at all - I mean, the things he does in this chapter are not really done by him - oh well, I guess I better hide Aragorn from you somewhere safe and join him there... "Baw" means "no" or "stop it", I didn´t translate because Aragorn did not understand at that point, sorry if that was confusing. Please keep reviewing!
Ertia: Ok, breathe, slowly, in and out... Really, your reviews always make me fear for your health! ;-) Please keep them up anyway!
Christy: Thanks!! Your review was FINE, really warmed my heart! Feel free to write another one.
Red Tigress: So, no Halloween party for you and Aragorn? Too bad, really. And don´t worry, he will get better, but not before doing some more nasty stuff - you´ll see.
THANK YOU (!!) for your reviews, I love reading them, please keep them coming!!
On more comment on the story: Aragorn´s own thoughts while he is possessed were supposed to be in italics, doesn´t work in "text" somehow, so now they stand by themselves.
Now, enough said, enjoy the chapter!
Alinah
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: Not mine
Possessed
The world slowly refocused itself around the man that had been Aragorn; the familiar room, the runes that brightly flashed in greeting. And two intruders. Lips turned into a smile that carried nothing of Aragorn´s heart, cool grey eyes locked with concerned blue ones. The elf sat, holding on to his bleeding leg with one hand and to the useless young one with the other. There was the briefest of disputes within the man whether to pretend to be who he was not, but he could see in the way the eldar set his jaw that he had given himself away with his smile. It mattered not. There were plenty of other ways to toy with his prey.
Aragorn´s heart hammered in his chest, the only protest that found its way past his silent screams. Deep inside, he desperately shouted for Legolas to run, to safe himself, but his concerns were quickly pushed back by other thoughts, dark and jeering, that overrode his own with frightening ease. His spirit would not give in, but it was pulled own further and further into the depth, until all that remained was the occasional thought, a flicker in the dark.
`No, mellon-nin, don´t face him. Run!`
The elf rose with the sickening litheness of his kind, pulling up the boy by the shoulder and stepping in front of him in one fluent motion. His eyes never left the man´s. "Go, Telias", he said quietly, "close the door, do not come in, whatever you may hear." Behind his back and out of even his elven sight, the child´s face froze in fear. Delicious. His look darted to the elf´s bleeding leg, then to the man who slowly advanced on the two. Something like courage crossed his round features and the man laughed at this pathetic display.
"Will you listen to the good Master Elf?" the man asked, his voice dripping false kindness; "or would you like to stay around and play a bit? But I´m sure you will not, you would be of no use, as you were to your father..."
`Stop! Stop and leave him be!´
"Telias, go now!" The elf´s voice was stern, but when the boy broke away from him with a light sob, stumbling for the door, he spoke again, now with great gentleness. "Never listen to what Evil whispers into your ears, little one, it does not reflect your weakness but his." He never turned to check the boy´s reaction, missing the flicker of pride in the big brown eyes. The was a faint creaking and a slap when the door was pulled closed.
"Giving advice, elf?!" Still the pretence went on, Aragorn´s voice forced into a greasy mildness that was slick with hate. "I thought your kind had long learned to accept its own inabilities and refrained from such dangerous pastimes, but then again, vanity has ever been your foremost trait, has it not?" He watched the light creature closely as he spoke, noting the way he favoured his leg, the slight tremble in the right arm. Ah, his sweet children had already done some nice work. And he would be delighted to finish it.
`Never!`
Oh yes, and he would make it last.
Legolas sneered at the man, circling to the right were one of the candleholders sat beside the bed. "I will not trade idle words with you!" he spat icily, "nor will your taunts cloud my mind. You may just as well drop the façade and get down to the fight!" He fixed the man´s face with a glare that never wavered, as if searching, and then continued: "Estel, iston le ennas. Meatho!" //Estel, I know you are there. Fight!//
`I cannot! Run!`
The man flinched at the accursed sound of the tongue that had been ripped from him. He shook his head angrily and followed the elf´s obvious move to arm himself with a slight sneer. "This will only make it more fun, you know", he whispered, "and all your elven coaxing will not bring your ranger friend back. He is locked away securely, and I will offer him some entertainment soon!"
`No! No, my friend, run!`
While the elf had brought himself closer to the candleholder he had clearly chosen as a weapon, the man had shadowed his movement, and sidestepped to his right also, opening the deadly dance. A dance that would see the eldar broken like a discarded puppet in the end. He felt his blood rise at the thought, closing in on the sword that awaited him, wedged between two shelves. Oh yes, he would enjoy this dance.
The man observed the elf as he tensed, but made no move to grip the sword. Not yet. Let him begin the game. Let it last. Then, with all the unnatural speed given to him, Legolas grabbed the metal candlestick with his right hand, pulling lose the candle with his left and throwing it straight at his opponent. With a surprised grunt the man dodged and yelped lightly when the hot wax splattered his cheek. Before he had had the chance to pick up his own weapon, the elf was upon him and brought the candlestick down against his temple.
The man fell heavily, lights shooting across his vision, but the blow had not been hard enough to knock him senseless. On the ground, he whipped his legs around and kicked out savagely, catching the elf in his wounded leg and bringing him down, too. The man grinned at the shout of pain that cut the air and pushed himself back up, albeit unsteadily. To his satisfaction, the elf was much slower regaining his footing, but he allowed him to stand.
"Are we a bit too soft, little one?" he cackled, reaching behind while he watched the elf rise, "not wanting to hurt that preciously frail human body, eh? That was your one chance, elfling, and you miserably failed using it!" He pulled the blade free from its hiding place and swung it around in a deadly arc, aiming for the elf´s throat.
The blow to the leg had severely impaired Legolas´ usual grace and upset his balance enough the keep him from blocking the strike completely, but he still managed to bring his makeshift weapon between himself and the sword which slid off the curved metal and nipped his shoulder, drawing blood. He stumbled backwards into a shelf, sending several objects clattering to the ground. "Im aldegin chen, meatho!" //I [will] not kill you, fight!// he breathed, teeth clenched in pain, but defiance burned in his eyes when the met the man´s.
The man glared back at his prey in satisfaction The game was enjoyable. He could feel Aragorn´s spirit rebel against his body´s actions, drawing some of his strength away from the fight, but that was just as well. The elf was no more than a toy in his eyes now, and he would easily beat him and cage the enraged human at the same time.
Once again, he allowed the elf to recover slightly and straighten, then he charged with a sudden yell as if in battle. A sharp look of surprise crossed the eldar´s features, and he quickly lowered the candlestick he had held up in defence and leapt to the side instead. The man had foreseen this move and brought his sword around. Legolas must have sensed the blade, maybe by its rush through the air, and threw himself backwards, twisting away from the deadly edge like a cat turning in mid-fall. As before, he was able to avoid death but not injury. The sword sliced through his tunic just below the ribs and he dropped the candlestick when he instinctively brought his hand to the bleeding cut.
The man felt his spirits soar. He looked down on the elf with a feeling of triumph that alluded him for centuries. Finally wanting to cause some serious pain, he quickly stepped closer, grabbed the sword´s hilt in two hands and brought the tip of the blade down sharply, piercing - the floor.
The man stared as if in shock. There had been no missing so easy a target...He glared at the elf and his fury grew at the look of hope on his prey´s pale features. "Mae, gwador!" //Good, brother [in arms]// Legolas shouted, at the same time taking advantage of the distraction. He pried his hands off his injury with an effort and seized the edge of the nearest shelf. With all his might he pulled, unable to stifle a grunt of pain.
The man just stood for a moment, staring at his sword, fury building in him like a raging fire. He had not even sensed the cursed human´s thoughts in a while, how could this be?! He still pondered this impossibility when a new sound caught his attention, a fraction of a second too late. The shelf next to him groaned and shifted, then tipped over and hit him full force.
He felt several objects hit him, the weight of wooden shelf rendering him immobile. He heard something shatter, then silence. He had ended up on his stomach and pain laced his back, some of it burning as if his skin had been torn open.
`It was, monster! Share the pain!`
This could not be! The voice had been closer to the surface, and the man angrily wrestled with the stubborn spirit, barely registering the small yelps of pain that came from the elf. He allowed himself a small measure of satisfaction that the fair creature suffered, too, but paid him no heed until he had managed to subdue Aragorn´s angry protests.
Finally able to look up again, the man found his vision clouded. He shook his head, angry at his weakness, and only then found that it was smoke that impaired him. With a sudden assault his other senses caught on to what was happening, allowing him to hear the hiss a growing flames and smell the kindling wood. Twisting for better a better view, he saw that at least two of his candles had fallen, their glass globes smashed, and the young flames ate greedily at his books and papers.
"No!" His fury only seemed to encourage the fire, it flared as if defying him and the continued its course. The bellow of anger was soon followed by another as the man realized that his opponent was not where he had left him. The sword still quivered in the ground only inches from him, but the shelf that trapped him had missed the eldar. Another scream of rage tore itself from his burning chest. "Were are you, coward! Is that the way the High Folk fight, by throwing objects on their enemies and setting fires? Show yourself!"
"Gladly." The voice came from his right, and he had to lift his upper body painfully to turn his head, but he did so without hesitation, an uneasy feeling not unlike fear settling in his stomach. The elf stood, nay, swayed, a few feet away from him. His tunic was soaked in blood and there was s shadow that threatened to cloud those piercing blue eyes, but the aloof look of triumph on his face made the man squirm.
Legolas held himself steady with one hand on the shelf at his side. In the other, he held the most precious of the man´s possessions. The fair orb seemed to flicker and twist in the unsteady light of the growing fire as if sensing its doom. The man struggled beneath the wood that held him down and felt it shift and slide across his already aching back, but he knew without doubt that he would never make it. He ceased he fight and glared back at the elf. "Do not believe that this is the end!" he hissed, "you may free his mind, but you cannot kill me. And maybe you will soon wish for death by the sword..."
The only answer that was forthcoming was a raised eyebrow. A curse on elves and their arrogance! He should have to pay for it. There was the small blessing that the elf´s injuries forced him to brace himself against the shelves and take the orb in both hands as he prepared to smash it. He had to concentrate. The man felt himself smirk. His hands groped among his scattered belongings on the floor until the found a round, black stone. Never mind its worth now. It would do as a weapon.
The man raised his right arm in curious union with Legolas´ movement, and the when the glass orb went flying, so did the rock. The man´s consciousness shattered along with the light globe as it truck the wall, but he felt a deep satisfaction at the knowledge that his aim had been true, too.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Pain. Light. Smoke. Aragorn´s senses slowly returned to him, and the relief that washed over him even before his spirit had fully returned to his body was so immense that its force almost pulled him back down into the darkness from which he was trying to rise. There was no longer a wall between what he was and what he felt, no other mind controlling his actions. The freedom he felt seemed strong enough to lift him off the floor - had there not been the weight on his back. And the pain. And the smoke...
Reality hit him hard and his eyes shot open. He could tell that he was lying face down, something hard on his back, and a fire was growing nearby. He forced his burning back to arch and felt the weight shift, allowing him to draw his legs beneath him and slowly crawl from the rubble. He yelped when something sharp pierced his hands. Shards of glass.
He coughed, the smoke thickening around him now that he was rising. He recognized Daramus´ hidden room, the shelves in disarray, as if from a fight... "Legolas!" His gasp made him cough even more and his eyes burned and watered when he frantically looked for his friend. For the briefest moment panic threatened to take over, but he drove it back with an angry snarl. Finally feeling some of his confusion clear, he let himself fall back onto his knees and crawled, the direction purely his hearts choice.
A moan made him turn swiftly, even though it had really been far to low to come from his friend - and it did not. The letters on the wall shone brightly now, bulging out of the wood as if trying to rip themselves free. The flames licked at them, intensifying their brightness and causing them to twitch and groan. Bile rose in Aragorn´s stomach, and he averted his eyes quickly, reassigning them to the more important task.
There was a strange sense of repetition settling over the ranger as his hands groped for his friend in the thickening grey, although he was unable to place it. The thought lingered with him for a moment, only to be wiped away by the sight of the motionless form that appeared in front of him. The heat around them intensified as the ranger pulled his friend close, reliefed to hear his feeble coughs. The wooden floor shuddered beneath him.
Aragorn wrapped on arm around Legolas and turned, heading for where his mind told him the door was, dragging the elf along. The air grew hotter by the second and his lungs burned with each hesitant breath he took, but he kept on moving until his head made contact with a wall. Blindly relying on his instincts, Aragorn reached up, hands guided by nothing that he could control and closing around a handle. He pulled.
For a heartbeat nothing moved but the flames that closed in on them, but then the door gave way, making him fall back. A rush of air moved past him and the fired roared loudly, the heat intensifying in a rush. Aragorn threw himself forward, one arm still securely locked around the elf, and rolled them both through the open door. With a swift move he turned, willed himself to his knees and smashed the door shut before collapsing on the heaving floor.
His body shook with the coughs the racked his frame, and for endless breaths his mind refused to concentrate on anything but allowing air back into his lungs. Faintly, he registered Legolas pulling away from him and a small part of him was glad that his friend moved on his own.
When his breathing finally evened out, however, he sensed something cold at his throat. He stiffened. Very carefully, he uncurled from the position his coughing fits had forced him into, and opened his eyes.
He was met by a stare of steal that seemed totally out of place in the soft, round face. Telias lowered lip quivered, but other than that there was no sign of the carefree little boy left in his features. The hand that pressed a knife into Aragorn´s flesh bit down, and he felt a warm trickle of blood sneak warmly down to his collar.
"You will not kill us!" The high children´s voice carried a threat that was not to be denied, and Telias moved to the side a bit, obviously to better shield the still form of Legolas behind him. "I am no coward! Tonight I will make my father proud."
TBC
New chapter - show-down should not be far off now, unless the characters decide otherwise. Sorry, sorry, I hurt Legolas again- just seemed to be no way around it.
Review responses:
Vicky Turner: Thanks so much! Glad you like it - and of course, I don´t want any ready to die of a hreat attack, so here´s your new chapter - I hope you like it!
Alexa: PLEASE don´t hurt Aragorn, OK? This is not his fault at all - I mean, the things he does in this chapter are not really done by him - oh well, I guess I better hide Aragorn from you somewhere safe and join him there... "Baw" means "no" or "stop it", I didn´t translate because Aragorn did not understand at that point, sorry if that was confusing. Please keep reviewing!
Ertia: Ok, breathe, slowly, in and out... Really, your reviews always make me fear for your health! ;-) Please keep them up anyway!
Christy: Thanks!! Your review was FINE, really warmed my heart! Feel free to write another one.
Red Tigress: So, no Halloween party for you and Aragorn? Too bad, really. And don´t worry, he will get better, but not before doing some more nasty stuff - you´ll see.
THANK YOU (!!) for your reviews, I love reading them, please keep them coming!!
On more comment on the story: Aragorn´s own thoughts while he is possessed were supposed to be in italics, doesn´t work in "text" somehow, so now they stand by themselves.
Now, enough said, enjoy the chapter!
Alinah
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: Not mine
Possessed
The world slowly refocused itself around the man that had been Aragorn; the familiar room, the runes that brightly flashed in greeting. And two intruders. Lips turned into a smile that carried nothing of Aragorn´s heart, cool grey eyes locked with concerned blue ones. The elf sat, holding on to his bleeding leg with one hand and to the useless young one with the other. There was the briefest of disputes within the man whether to pretend to be who he was not, but he could see in the way the eldar set his jaw that he had given himself away with his smile. It mattered not. There were plenty of other ways to toy with his prey.
Aragorn´s heart hammered in his chest, the only protest that found its way past his silent screams. Deep inside, he desperately shouted for Legolas to run, to safe himself, but his concerns were quickly pushed back by other thoughts, dark and jeering, that overrode his own with frightening ease. His spirit would not give in, but it was pulled own further and further into the depth, until all that remained was the occasional thought, a flicker in the dark.
`No, mellon-nin, don´t face him. Run!`
The elf rose with the sickening litheness of his kind, pulling up the boy by the shoulder and stepping in front of him in one fluent motion. His eyes never left the man´s. "Go, Telias", he said quietly, "close the door, do not come in, whatever you may hear." Behind his back and out of even his elven sight, the child´s face froze in fear. Delicious. His look darted to the elf´s bleeding leg, then to the man who slowly advanced on the two. Something like courage crossed his round features and the man laughed at this pathetic display.
"Will you listen to the good Master Elf?" the man asked, his voice dripping false kindness; "or would you like to stay around and play a bit? But I´m sure you will not, you would be of no use, as you were to your father..."
`Stop! Stop and leave him be!´
"Telias, go now!" The elf´s voice was stern, but when the boy broke away from him with a light sob, stumbling for the door, he spoke again, now with great gentleness. "Never listen to what Evil whispers into your ears, little one, it does not reflect your weakness but his." He never turned to check the boy´s reaction, missing the flicker of pride in the big brown eyes. The was a faint creaking and a slap when the door was pulled closed.
"Giving advice, elf?!" Still the pretence went on, Aragorn´s voice forced into a greasy mildness that was slick with hate. "I thought your kind had long learned to accept its own inabilities and refrained from such dangerous pastimes, but then again, vanity has ever been your foremost trait, has it not?" He watched the light creature closely as he spoke, noting the way he favoured his leg, the slight tremble in the right arm. Ah, his sweet children had already done some nice work. And he would be delighted to finish it.
`Never!`
Oh yes, and he would make it last.
Legolas sneered at the man, circling to the right were one of the candleholders sat beside the bed. "I will not trade idle words with you!" he spat icily, "nor will your taunts cloud my mind. You may just as well drop the façade and get down to the fight!" He fixed the man´s face with a glare that never wavered, as if searching, and then continued: "Estel, iston le ennas. Meatho!" //Estel, I know you are there. Fight!//
`I cannot! Run!`
The man flinched at the accursed sound of the tongue that had been ripped from him. He shook his head angrily and followed the elf´s obvious move to arm himself with a slight sneer. "This will only make it more fun, you know", he whispered, "and all your elven coaxing will not bring your ranger friend back. He is locked away securely, and I will offer him some entertainment soon!"
`No! No, my friend, run!`
While the elf had brought himself closer to the candleholder he had clearly chosen as a weapon, the man had shadowed his movement, and sidestepped to his right also, opening the deadly dance. A dance that would see the eldar broken like a discarded puppet in the end. He felt his blood rise at the thought, closing in on the sword that awaited him, wedged between two shelves. Oh yes, he would enjoy this dance.
The man observed the elf as he tensed, but made no move to grip the sword. Not yet. Let him begin the game. Let it last. Then, with all the unnatural speed given to him, Legolas grabbed the metal candlestick with his right hand, pulling lose the candle with his left and throwing it straight at his opponent. With a surprised grunt the man dodged and yelped lightly when the hot wax splattered his cheek. Before he had had the chance to pick up his own weapon, the elf was upon him and brought the candlestick down against his temple.
The man fell heavily, lights shooting across his vision, but the blow had not been hard enough to knock him senseless. On the ground, he whipped his legs around and kicked out savagely, catching the elf in his wounded leg and bringing him down, too. The man grinned at the shout of pain that cut the air and pushed himself back up, albeit unsteadily. To his satisfaction, the elf was much slower regaining his footing, but he allowed him to stand.
"Are we a bit too soft, little one?" he cackled, reaching behind while he watched the elf rise, "not wanting to hurt that preciously frail human body, eh? That was your one chance, elfling, and you miserably failed using it!" He pulled the blade free from its hiding place and swung it around in a deadly arc, aiming for the elf´s throat.
The blow to the leg had severely impaired Legolas´ usual grace and upset his balance enough the keep him from blocking the strike completely, but he still managed to bring his makeshift weapon between himself and the sword which slid off the curved metal and nipped his shoulder, drawing blood. He stumbled backwards into a shelf, sending several objects clattering to the ground. "Im aldegin chen, meatho!" //I [will] not kill you, fight!// he breathed, teeth clenched in pain, but defiance burned in his eyes when the met the man´s.
The man glared back at his prey in satisfaction The game was enjoyable. He could feel Aragorn´s spirit rebel against his body´s actions, drawing some of his strength away from the fight, but that was just as well. The elf was no more than a toy in his eyes now, and he would easily beat him and cage the enraged human at the same time.
Once again, he allowed the elf to recover slightly and straighten, then he charged with a sudden yell as if in battle. A sharp look of surprise crossed the eldar´s features, and he quickly lowered the candlestick he had held up in defence and leapt to the side instead. The man had foreseen this move and brought his sword around. Legolas must have sensed the blade, maybe by its rush through the air, and threw himself backwards, twisting away from the deadly edge like a cat turning in mid-fall. As before, he was able to avoid death but not injury. The sword sliced through his tunic just below the ribs and he dropped the candlestick when he instinctively brought his hand to the bleeding cut.
The man felt his spirits soar. He looked down on the elf with a feeling of triumph that alluded him for centuries. Finally wanting to cause some serious pain, he quickly stepped closer, grabbed the sword´s hilt in two hands and brought the tip of the blade down sharply, piercing - the floor.
The man stared as if in shock. There had been no missing so easy a target...He glared at the elf and his fury grew at the look of hope on his prey´s pale features. "Mae, gwador!" //Good, brother [in arms]// Legolas shouted, at the same time taking advantage of the distraction. He pried his hands off his injury with an effort and seized the edge of the nearest shelf. With all his might he pulled, unable to stifle a grunt of pain.
The man just stood for a moment, staring at his sword, fury building in him like a raging fire. He had not even sensed the cursed human´s thoughts in a while, how could this be?! He still pondered this impossibility when a new sound caught his attention, a fraction of a second too late. The shelf next to him groaned and shifted, then tipped over and hit him full force.
He felt several objects hit him, the weight of wooden shelf rendering him immobile. He heard something shatter, then silence. He had ended up on his stomach and pain laced his back, some of it burning as if his skin had been torn open.
`It was, monster! Share the pain!`
This could not be! The voice had been closer to the surface, and the man angrily wrestled with the stubborn spirit, barely registering the small yelps of pain that came from the elf. He allowed himself a small measure of satisfaction that the fair creature suffered, too, but paid him no heed until he had managed to subdue Aragorn´s angry protests.
Finally able to look up again, the man found his vision clouded. He shook his head, angry at his weakness, and only then found that it was smoke that impaired him. With a sudden assault his other senses caught on to what was happening, allowing him to hear the hiss a growing flames and smell the kindling wood. Twisting for better a better view, he saw that at least two of his candles had fallen, their glass globes smashed, and the young flames ate greedily at his books and papers.
"No!" His fury only seemed to encourage the fire, it flared as if defying him and the continued its course. The bellow of anger was soon followed by another as the man realized that his opponent was not where he had left him. The sword still quivered in the ground only inches from him, but the shelf that trapped him had missed the eldar. Another scream of rage tore itself from his burning chest. "Were are you, coward! Is that the way the High Folk fight, by throwing objects on their enemies and setting fires? Show yourself!"
"Gladly." The voice came from his right, and he had to lift his upper body painfully to turn his head, but he did so without hesitation, an uneasy feeling not unlike fear settling in his stomach. The elf stood, nay, swayed, a few feet away from him. His tunic was soaked in blood and there was s shadow that threatened to cloud those piercing blue eyes, but the aloof look of triumph on his face made the man squirm.
Legolas held himself steady with one hand on the shelf at his side. In the other, he held the most precious of the man´s possessions. The fair orb seemed to flicker and twist in the unsteady light of the growing fire as if sensing its doom. The man struggled beneath the wood that held him down and felt it shift and slide across his already aching back, but he knew without doubt that he would never make it. He ceased he fight and glared back at the elf. "Do not believe that this is the end!" he hissed, "you may free his mind, but you cannot kill me. And maybe you will soon wish for death by the sword..."
The only answer that was forthcoming was a raised eyebrow. A curse on elves and their arrogance! He should have to pay for it. There was the small blessing that the elf´s injuries forced him to brace himself against the shelves and take the orb in both hands as he prepared to smash it. He had to concentrate. The man felt himself smirk. His hands groped among his scattered belongings on the floor until the found a round, black stone. Never mind its worth now. It would do as a weapon.
The man raised his right arm in curious union with Legolas´ movement, and the when the glass orb went flying, so did the rock. The man´s consciousness shattered along with the light globe as it truck the wall, but he felt a deep satisfaction at the knowledge that his aim had been true, too.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Pain. Light. Smoke. Aragorn´s senses slowly returned to him, and the relief that washed over him even before his spirit had fully returned to his body was so immense that its force almost pulled him back down into the darkness from which he was trying to rise. There was no longer a wall between what he was and what he felt, no other mind controlling his actions. The freedom he felt seemed strong enough to lift him off the floor - had there not been the weight on his back. And the pain. And the smoke...
Reality hit him hard and his eyes shot open. He could tell that he was lying face down, something hard on his back, and a fire was growing nearby. He forced his burning back to arch and felt the weight shift, allowing him to draw his legs beneath him and slowly crawl from the rubble. He yelped when something sharp pierced his hands. Shards of glass.
He coughed, the smoke thickening around him now that he was rising. He recognized Daramus´ hidden room, the shelves in disarray, as if from a fight... "Legolas!" His gasp made him cough even more and his eyes burned and watered when he frantically looked for his friend. For the briefest moment panic threatened to take over, but he drove it back with an angry snarl. Finally feeling some of his confusion clear, he let himself fall back onto his knees and crawled, the direction purely his hearts choice.
A moan made him turn swiftly, even though it had really been far to low to come from his friend - and it did not. The letters on the wall shone brightly now, bulging out of the wood as if trying to rip themselves free. The flames licked at them, intensifying their brightness and causing them to twitch and groan. Bile rose in Aragorn´s stomach, and he averted his eyes quickly, reassigning them to the more important task.
There was a strange sense of repetition settling over the ranger as his hands groped for his friend in the thickening grey, although he was unable to place it. The thought lingered with him for a moment, only to be wiped away by the sight of the motionless form that appeared in front of him. The heat around them intensified as the ranger pulled his friend close, reliefed to hear his feeble coughs. The wooden floor shuddered beneath him.
Aragorn wrapped on arm around Legolas and turned, heading for where his mind told him the door was, dragging the elf along. The air grew hotter by the second and his lungs burned with each hesitant breath he took, but he kept on moving until his head made contact with a wall. Blindly relying on his instincts, Aragorn reached up, hands guided by nothing that he could control and closing around a handle. He pulled.
For a heartbeat nothing moved but the flames that closed in on them, but then the door gave way, making him fall back. A rush of air moved past him and the fired roared loudly, the heat intensifying in a rush. Aragorn threw himself forward, one arm still securely locked around the elf, and rolled them both through the open door. With a swift move he turned, willed himself to his knees and smashed the door shut before collapsing on the heaving floor.
His body shook with the coughs the racked his frame, and for endless breaths his mind refused to concentrate on anything but allowing air back into his lungs. Faintly, he registered Legolas pulling away from him and a small part of him was glad that his friend moved on his own.
When his breathing finally evened out, however, he sensed something cold at his throat. He stiffened. Very carefully, he uncurled from the position his coughing fits had forced him into, and opened his eyes.
He was met by a stare of steal that seemed totally out of place in the soft, round face. Telias lowered lip quivered, but other than that there was no sign of the carefree little boy left in his features. The hand that pressed a knife into Aragorn´s flesh bit down, and he felt a warm trickle of blood sneak warmly down to his collar.
"You will not kill us!" The high children´s voice carried a threat that was not to be denied, and Telias moved to the side a bit, obviously to better shield the still form of Legolas behind him. "I am no coward! Tonight I will make my father proud."
TBC
