Authors Note: Thank you so much for all the reviews! I wanted to keep
writing, and you guys spurred me on! Here is the next installment and I do
plan to go on. I'd love to know what you think of this one and if you have
any suggestions. This is probably going to be a bit AU (obviously ;) ) and
I'm not an expert on Tolkien lore, so I may have some discrepancies. That
said, here is chapter 2.
In the confusion, the brown horse had strayed away, urged by its fear of the riders. It trailed far into the woods, having caught the scent of Aragorn's horse. Its rider was entirely conscious and was more than confused. He had been blind folded for the trip, his hands bound behind his back and his feet tied tightly. The riders had been loath to touch him, but they had tossed him onto his own horse's back after they had caught him. He had been barely conscious at that time, but was now fully awake many hours later. He was unsure of how he had ended up where he was and how long they had been riding for. His confusion deepened when he heard one of the rider's horses screech in some sort of terror and he could feel all nine of them start of buck. Fear had crept into his mind, fearing that his own horse would buck and he would fall and be trampled. Something had upset the horses.
Moments later he heard the singing of an arrow flying through the air and heard it slice cleanly through the rope guiding his horse. The captive was thrilled and hoped his horse would move away, though he was curious to see what was going on and who had attacked the riders. His horse moved away slowly and he could hear the sounds of a great sword fight going on and the grunts and soft cries of whomever it was that had startled the horses. As he listened closer, he realized that there was only one person fighting off the nine. The sounds became more faint the farther the horse traveled, but there was no mistaking the sound of the nine riding off.
Legolas Greenleaf, the elf prince of Mirkwood, was relieved that his previous captors had ridden away without finding him, but he assumed the worst. If they were leaving, whoever had attacked them must be dead. Legolas wanted to be free and go back, to find out exactly what had happened, but it didn't seem as if his horse was in the mood to stop. Luckily, he was wrong. His horse came to an abrupt stop, causing Legolas to slide off. He landed hard on his side, his left arm hitting a rock. Legolas squirmed around a bit until he was able to position himself over the rock, where he proceeded to rub the ropes that bit into his wrists. After what seemed like forever, the ropes frayed and Legolas was able to free his hands. He ripped off the blindfold to find himself in a dense forest. His brown horse, Aluteir, was a few meters away nuzzling with a large black horse that could have easily been of elven breeding. The horse seemed anxious, but somewhat calmed by Aluteir. Legolas pulled the gag out of his mouth and hurried to untie his feet.
"Finally. Aluteir! Come here boy," Legolas called the horse, who responded by plodding over to his master. The black horse, clearly a mare, followed Aluteir, looking somewhat nervous, if a horse could look nervous. Legolas got to his feet, somewhat shakily. It had been sometime since he had last stood. "What do we have here?" He asked aloud as he approached the black horse. She shied away from him, and unconsciously, he began to speak to her in his native elvish, telling her to be calm. It surprised him when she responded favorably, calming down to the point where he was almost sure she was used to hearing elvish. Surely her owner, perhaps the brave person who had attacked the riders, was an elf. Legolas rubbed her head and moved to look at what she carried - a bedroll, an extra quiver of arrows, a sheathed sword, and a leather pack. Her bridle was old and worn, but Legolas noted that she had been very well taken care of, well fed, well groomed, and seemingly happy, minus the fact that she was obviously missing her rider. "Well, I suppose I should try to find the road." As Legolas spoke to himself, the black mare moved away from him and began to trot away. Legolas was even more startled when Aluteir followed her. "Come back here Aluteir!" he called, but the horse did not heed him and he had to run to catch up, pulling himself up onto his horse's back. "Well, I hope that you know where you are going, because I surely do not."
Neither horse disappointed Legolas, for they led him right back to the road where he had come from less than an hour earlier, still the prisoner of the black riders. The road was slippery and muddy as the horses came upon it. The rain had become steadier. Legolas watched as the black horse halted, looking around expectantly and he bowed his head. "Easy girl, I doubt your master's coming." Legolas slid to the ground, his green shod feet resting lightly on top of the deep mud. "Aluteir, stay here," his command was gentle as he moved to stand in the middle of the road. Legolas closed his eyes, imagining the sounds he had heard earlier, trying to figure out what direction the sword fight had been in. He opened his eyes and walked off into the woods, the opposite way from where he had just come. About ten meters off the path, he found what he was looking for.
Lying in the mud was a cloaked, and most likely dead figure. Legolas sighed in obvious mourning, for this person had undoubtedly saved his life. The scene was grim. There were arrows scattered about, dirty and disappearing into the mud. A great sword, of some elvish make lay in the mud near the figure, covered in mud and blood. The bow on the person's back was broken under him. Legolas knelt by the person, assuming him to be an elf. The cloak was something the elves of Rivendell would have made, gray in the darkening light. It was travel worn and seemingly loved. Legolas gently lifted the hood from his rescuer's facce and was shocked to find noelf, but a man.
He had a very strong face, a distinguished jaw line, high cheekbones, and a noble nose. His eyes were shut tightly, his chin was rough with two days worth of stubble, and his face was ashen gray, stark contrast to his dark brown hair that almost seemed black. Legolas could not help but look again, certain he knew this man. Still, no name came to mind. Legolas reached out and touched the man's throat, searching for a pulse. He was surprised to find one, soft and thready, but a pulse none the less.
"So he lives." Legolas muttered, searching for his injuries, which were nothard to find. The gash on the man's back was deep and long, slicing in a diagonal line from his left shoulder to his lower back. It was bleeding heavily. Legolas rolled him more onto his side to see what damage had been done. There were several minor cuts that showed through his cloak and dark tunic on the arms. It was the man's chest that caused Legolas to wonder how he was still alive. There was a garish looking sword cut across his ribs. It had clearly broken a few of the ribs, explaining why Legolas had not detected a regular breathing pattern.
"He lives.but for how long? Well, dark stranger, I owe you my life and for that reason and for the fact that I am curious to know who you are, and why you would risk the wrath of Sauron's Nazgul, I will do my best to save you. I am no healer, though we are a little over a day's ride from Rivendell if I know my forest. You may well die before I get you there, for who knows if you received poison from the tips of the dark rider's swords, but if it is my choice, I will not let you pass into their realm. I do promise you that if you survive the trip to Rivendell, you might well live, so I suggest you keep stout of heart."
Legolas said these words even as he worked, removing his own brown cloak. He removed the stranger's cloak and discarded it, then he tore his own cloak into strips, binding them around his chest and back as best he could. Once he had done all that he could, he picked up the man with an ease that only an elf could manage, and carried him back to the road, where both horses waited obediently.
The black mare whinnied excitedly at the sight of her master, but she also seemed to sense that he was not that same as when he had bid her leave. Legolas draped the man over her back and covered him with the blanket. "Easy girl, for you master needs you to be gentle." Legolas turned to Aluteir and mounted, catching the mare's reins in his hand. "Come on now, speed is of the essence. Pray that I have indeed recognized these woods." Legolas urged the horses on into the rain.
Hours later, Legolas was beginning to feel his exhaustion and the sky was growing dark, beating out the cloud cover. It had stopped raining, much to his relief, but he knew that he would have to stop and rest. He could have kept going if he had eaten more recently or if he hadn't been so cruelly bound for so long. Finally he led the horses off the road and found an area one might even call a clearing. He tied up the horses and carefully lifted the dark stranger to the ground, checking to see if he was still alive, half expecting him not to be. Legolas was pleased to find that he still had a pulse. He re-wrapped the man in the blanket and placed him under a tree.
"Now, food." Legolas muttered, spotting the leather pack still secured to the black mare. He decided to have a look, surely the traveler would carry some food. Inside the pack he found a dagger wrapped in black silk, an extra cloak that seemed to have never been worn, a book written in an elvish tongue that he vaguely remembered from his childhood, and food. Lembas to be exact. Legolas raised an eyebrow. This man was indeed a mystery. He wore elvish clothing, carried a sword and a bow wrought by elves, and rode an elven horse that answered to elvish, yet he was not an elf.
Legolas sighed, sitting down to eat the lembas. He was surprised to find that it was lembas from his home, Mirkwood! The man must have been there, but for what reason and how, Legolas could not have guessed at. After he had eaten, he searched for bits of dry wood, buried under the leaves, and he started a fire. Once the fire burned hot, he examined the man again, using the rest of his cloak to re-bandage the man's wounds, which were uglier thanhe thought in the firelight. He then wrapped the man in the cloak he had found in the leather pack and started to dry the blanket by the fire. He noticed that the blanket was made of the finest thread, obviously woven by a master at the loom. It had been made with great care, for the use of traveling, for it dried quickly, as if it was laced with magic. Legolas sighed, looking away from the man and staring into the fire, lost in thought.
"Why, my friend, would you risk any sort of altercation with the Nazgul? Do you have a death wish for Sauron to notice? Why attempt to save me if you had no idea who I was? How did you fight the nine by yourself for that long and still live? Surely they must have believed you were dead. So you must be lucky. But who are you? Where were you going? Whom do you serve?" Legolas asked the questions absently, his eyes locked on the tongues of red and orange flames.
"Many questions my dear prince, but I too have one for you. Why did you chose to save me?" Legolas jumped, never having been caught so off guard before, and turned to face the source of the rough, weak voice. The man had obviously awoken and Legolas found himself looking at the man, with strange, yet beautiful gray eyes boring into him as if he was transparent. "And then perhaps," the man said, interrupted when he coughed, blood coming to his pale lips, "I can answer your questions."
In the confusion, the brown horse had strayed away, urged by its fear of the riders. It trailed far into the woods, having caught the scent of Aragorn's horse. Its rider was entirely conscious and was more than confused. He had been blind folded for the trip, his hands bound behind his back and his feet tied tightly. The riders had been loath to touch him, but they had tossed him onto his own horse's back after they had caught him. He had been barely conscious at that time, but was now fully awake many hours later. He was unsure of how he had ended up where he was and how long they had been riding for. His confusion deepened when he heard one of the rider's horses screech in some sort of terror and he could feel all nine of them start of buck. Fear had crept into his mind, fearing that his own horse would buck and he would fall and be trampled. Something had upset the horses.
Moments later he heard the singing of an arrow flying through the air and heard it slice cleanly through the rope guiding his horse. The captive was thrilled and hoped his horse would move away, though he was curious to see what was going on and who had attacked the riders. His horse moved away slowly and he could hear the sounds of a great sword fight going on and the grunts and soft cries of whomever it was that had startled the horses. As he listened closer, he realized that there was only one person fighting off the nine. The sounds became more faint the farther the horse traveled, but there was no mistaking the sound of the nine riding off.
Legolas Greenleaf, the elf prince of Mirkwood, was relieved that his previous captors had ridden away without finding him, but he assumed the worst. If they were leaving, whoever had attacked them must be dead. Legolas wanted to be free and go back, to find out exactly what had happened, but it didn't seem as if his horse was in the mood to stop. Luckily, he was wrong. His horse came to an abrupt stop, causing Legolas to slide off. He landed hard on his side, his left arm hitting a rock. Legolas squirmed around a bit until he was able to position himself over the rock, where he proceeded to rub the ropes that bit into his wrists. After what seemed like forever, the ropes frayed and Legolas was able to free his hands. He ripped off the blindfold to find himself in a dense forest. His brown horse, Aluteir, was a few meters away nuzzling with a large black horse that could have easily been of elven breeding. The horse seemed anxious, but somewhat calmed by Aluteir. Legolas pulled the gag out of his mouth and hurried to untie his feet.
"Finally. Aluteir! Come here boy," Legolas called the horse, who responded by plodding over to his master. The black horse, clearly a mare, followed Aluteir, looking somewhat nervous, if a horse could look nervous. Legolas got to his feet, somewhat shakily. It had been sometime since he had last stood. "What do we have here?" He asked aloud as he approached the black horse. She shied away from him, and unconsciously, he began to speak to her in his native elvish, telling her to be calm. It surprised him when she responded favorably, calming down to the point where he was almost sure she was used to hearing elvish. Surely her owner, perhaps the brave person who had attacked the riders, was an elf. Legolas rubbed her head and moved to look at what she carried - a bedroll, an extra quiver of arrows, a sheathed sword, and a leather pack. Her bridle was old and worn, but Legolas noted that she had been very well taken care of, well fed, well groomed, and seemingly happy, minus the fact that she was obviously missing her rider. "Well, I suppose I should try to find the road." As Legolas spoke to himself, the black mare moved away from him and began to trot away. Legolas was even more startled when Aluteir followed her. "Come back here Aluteir!" he called, but the horse did not heed him and he had to run to catch up, pulling himself up onto his horse's back. "Well, I hope that you know where you are going, because I surely do not."
Neither horse disappointed Legolas, for they led him right back to the road where he had come from less than an hour earlier, still the prisoner of the black riders. The road was slippery and muddy as the horses came upon it. The rain had become steadier. Legolas watched as the black horse halted, looking around expectantly and he bowed his head. "Easy girl, I doubt your master's coming." Legolas slid to the ground, his green shod feet resting lightly on top of the deep mud. "Aluteir, stay here," his command was gentle as he moved to stand in the middle of the road. Legolas closed his eyes, imagining the sounds he had heard earlier, trying to figure out what direction the sword fight had been in. He opened his eyes and walked off into the woods, the opposite way from where he had just come. About ten meters off the path, he found what he was looking for.
Lying in the mud was a cloaked, and most likely dead figure. Legolas sighed in obvious mourning, for this person had undoubtedly saved his life. The scene was grim. There were arrows scattered about, dirty and disappearing into the mud. A great sword, of some elvish make lay in the mud near the figure, covered in mud and blood. The bow on the person's back was broken under him. Legolas knelt by the person, assuming him to be an elf. The cloak was something the elves of Rivendell would have made, gray in the darkening light. It was travel worn and seemingly loved. Legolas gently lifted the hood from his rescuer's facce and was shocked to find noelf, but a man.
He had a very strong face, a distinguished jaw line, high cheekbones, and a noble nose. His eyes were shut tightly, his chin was rough with two days worth of stubble, and his face was ashen gray, stark contrast to his dark brown hair that almost seemed black. Legolas could not help but look again, certain he knew this man. Still, no name came to mind. Legolas reached out and touched the man's throat, searching for a pulse. He was surprised to find one, soft and thready, but a pulse none the less.
"So he lives." Legolas muttered, searching for his injuries, which were nothard to find. The gash on the man's back was deep and long, slicing in a diagonal line from his left shoulder to his lower back. It was bleeding heavily. Legolas rolled him more onto his side to see what damage had been done. There were several minor cuts that showed through his cloak and dark tunic on the arms. It was the man's chest that caused Legolas to wonder how he was still alive. There was a garish looking sword cut across his ribs. It had clearly broken a few of the ribs, explaining why Legolas had not detected a regular breathing pattern.
"He lives.but for how long? Well, dark stranger, I owe you my life and for that reason and for the fact that I am curious to know who you are, and why you would risk the wrath of Sauron's Nazgul, I will do my best to save you. I am no healer, though we are a little over a day's ride from Rivendell if I know my forest. You may well die before I get you there, for who knows if you received poison from the tips of the dark rider's swords, but if it is my choice, I will not let you pass into their realm. I do promise you that if you survive the trip to Rivendell, you might well live, so I suggest you keep stout of heart."
Legolas said these words even as he worked, removing his own brown cloak. He removed the stranger's cloak and discarded it, then he tore his own cloak into strips, binding them around his chest and back as best he could. Once he had done all that he could, he picked up the man with an ease that only an elf could manage, and carried him back to the road, where both horses waited obediently.
The black mare whinnied excitedly at the sight of her master, but she also seemed to sense that he was not that same as when he had bid her leave. Legolas draped the man over her back and covered him with the blanket. "Easy girl, for you master needs you to be gentle." Legolas turned to Aluteir and mounted, catching the mare's reins in his hand. "Come on now, speed is of the essence. Pray that I have indeed recognized these woods." Legolas urged the horses on into the rain.
Hours later, Legolas was beginning to feel his exhaustion and the sky was growing dark, beating out the cloud cover. It had stopped raining, much to his relief, but he knew that he would have to stop and rest. He could have kept going if he had eaten more recently or if he hadn't been so cruelly bound for so long. Finally he led the horses off the road and found an area one might even call a clearing. He tied up the horses and carefully lifted the dark stranger to the ground, checking to see if he was still alive, half expecting him not to be. Legolas was pleased to find that he still had a pulse. He re-wrapped the man in the blanket and placed him under a tree.
"Now, food." Legolas muttered, spotting the leather pack still secured to the black mare. He decided to have a look, surely the traveler would carry some food. Inside the pack he found a dagger wrapped in black silk, an extra cloak that seemed to have never been worn, a book written in an elvish tongue that he vaguely remembered from his childhood, and food. Lembas to be exact. Legolas raised an eyebrow. This man was indeed a mystery. He wore elvish clothing, carried a sword and a bow wrought by elves, and rode an elven horse that answered to elvish, yet he was not an elf.
Legolas sighed, sitting down to eat the lembas. He was surprised to find that it was lembas from his home, Mirkwood! The man must have been there, but for what reason and how, Legolas could not have guessed at. After he had eaten, he searched for bits of dry wood, buried under the leaves, and he started a fire. Once the fire burned hot, he examined the man again, using the rest of his cloak to re-bandage the man's wounds, which were uglier thanhe thought in the firelight. He then wrapped the man in the cloak he had found in the leather pack and started to dry the blanket by the fire. He noticed that the blanket was made of the finest thread, obviously woven by a master at the loom. It had been made with great care, for the use of traveling, for it dried quickly, as if it was laced with magic. Legolas sighed, looking away from the man and staring into the fire, lost in thought.
"Why, my friend, would you risk any sort of altercation with the Nazgul? Do you have a death wish for Sauron to notice? Why attempt to save me if you had no idea who I was? How did you fight the nine by yourself for that long and still live? Surely they must have believed you were dead. So you must be lucky. But who are you? Where were you going? Whom do you serve?" Legolas asked the questions absently, his eyes locked on the tongues of red and orange flames.
"Many questions my dear prince, but I too have one for you. Why did you chose to save me?" Legolas jumped, never having been caught so off guard before, and turned to face the source of the rough, weak voice. The man had obviously awoken and Legolas found himself looking at the man, with strange, yet beautiful gray eyes boring into him as if he was transparent. "And then perhaps," the man said, interrupted when he coughed, blood coming to his pale lips, "I can answer your questions."