Cysne's notes: Chapters usually take me a week tops to get done, but since there's two of us working on this, I suppose they'll take twice the time. Sorry, but we've been real busy with school lately...
Star-stallion, thanks a million for the reviews!!! ;) I'm glad you liked both of the stories and I know Helluin loved that review also! Hope you enjoy this new chapter as well!
The rest of you, please don't hesitate to press that wonderful purple square (Square!! Can you imagine anything more perfect?!) button at the bottom of the page! I assure you it does wonders! Thanks for reading! =)

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Chapter II: The Ered Nimrais And The Road To Lasgalen


First thing in the morning, King Elessar Telcontar took council with his captains to formally decide the best offensive plan against the orcs. Elessar chose to ride out himself with a small party, for he figured that no more than that was needed. The attack on the village had been one thing – the townsmen hadn't been expecting anything and, being poorly protected or even armed, they could have hardly fended off the creatures - but this was another. This time, the orcs would be facing seasoned warriors who would be purposefully looking for them. He also found that it would be an excellent opportunity to relive his old Ranger days, but that reasoning he kept to himself.

None of the counsellors was really in favour of the King's decision, it was an unnecessary risk that he would be taking, but they did not argue, for he looked thoroughly determined. And given his background history and recent popularity in Gondor, it would be ill for their reputations to contest his decisions at the time being.

As the bells rang announcing the sixth hour after the sunrise, a final decision had been made: Elessar would take a small group of his best knights, about twenty of them, and Andril, the surviving boy, to hunt down the orcs. They would leave the following morning.

They didn't expect the fell beings to be well armoured or organised enough to defend themselves properly, since they were scarce these days and no longer had any leader. There was no need to delay the hunt with more soldiers; speed was of the essence. In the meanwhile, Faramir would stay in the city to rule as steward.

Thus, the rest of the day was spent in preparations for the departure.

Mondrod and Andril spent the afternoon looking over the armoury, trying to find a suitable chain mail and a small weapon for the lad. Even if he wouldn't be directly involved in the fight, he would be safer off that way. Andril was reluctant to go, he feared what he might find, but Elessar had said that he was needed to indicate the way. Many of the smaller villages in Anórien, like Andril's, didn't have a name, they could be called differently from place to place, and as so the party would not know where to look.

On the other end of the palace grounds, Elessar had to deal with his wife Arwen instead. She didn't like it at all that he had decided to go. The Lady shared Faramir's concern, but just as Elessar repeatedly pointed out to her, which woman enjoyed seeing her man go to war? And Arwen had seen too much of that in the years up to the great War of the Ring that ended Sauron's dominion in Middle Earth. She tried to dissuade him still, but Elessar stood firm as a statue, determined as ever, and heeded it not.

The next day, the fresh and brisk morning air greeted the warrior party assembled at the courtyard outside the royal palace. The horses, packed and ready to depart, stood anxiously waiting for their masters to say their farewells.

"Father, are you sure you do not wish me to go with you?" Prince Eldarion, who was in that reckless period that immediately preceded the turning of age, discretely and casually asked his father if he could go.

"Eldarion, you are still young. And there is no need to ail your mother with even more worry." He dismissed the Prince's silent protest, for what Elessar really meant to say was that Eldarion had no experience and he did not want to put him in danger, no matter how insignificant the threat may be. In truth, Eldarion was well nearing his seventeen years of age. "Trust me, you will be better here, and we shall be back in no more than a week, perhaps two." After a quick embrace, he turned to his wife.

"Husband..." Arwen and Elessar had already discussed enough throughout the day before on account of it, but she risked a final attempt.

"Do not trouble yourself. I tell you the same I told Eldarion; I will return shortly." He dried the tears in her eyes with a gentle thumb and kissed her hand, before mounting his horse.

The stallion neighed in delight that they were finally leaving, and the other warriors followed their King's lead. A final exchange of looks and the party was off galloping through the seven gates of the White City, the horses' hooves echoing across the paved streets.

"I have an ill feeling about this..." Arwen gloomily thought to herself, as all that was left of her husband's presence was the dust on the ground being carried by the wind.

~*~

The party headed north. They had been riding all day and had covered already a good stretch of land since departing Minas Tirith that morn. Pleased with their progress, it was with ease that Elessar gave the order to make camp for the night. Scouts would stay all around the encampment, just as a precaution, and watch turns were distributed.

The sun was starting to set in the horizon to the far west – a vision for which Elessar had craved during the many years in which he was King. From Minas Tirith, one could not see the way Arien disappeared below the undefined horizontal line. He could also feel his muscles rejoice in the newfound freedom – perhaps being raised by elves had taken its toll on the Man, for he swore he could feel the weight of all the stone of the city lift from his bones. He felt young and vigorous once more.

The following morning, the scents and sounds of delicious food being cooked waked the men. After replenishing themselves, they set their packs on the horses and strapped their swords to their belts, hoping to reach the attacked village before the sun completed two more cycles.

As much as he hated to admit it, Elessar was not getting any younger. Having camped at the feet of the Ered Nimrais, the cold night's bite was not left unfelt and, just like the morning frost covered the low vegetation, Elessar's bones and muscles were sour and tense. He inwardly cursed the comfortable life he had accustomed himself to.

They were to cross the imponent Ered Nimrais, the White Mountains, that day. Already furiously clinging to their cloaks in the depths of late Autumn, the men gave an extra shudder at the thought, but were thankful nonetheless that the path didn't take them all the way up to the very white peaks. They needed only to climb part of the slope, since Minas Tirith was located at one end of the ridge.

The road wound itself precariously at the edge of cliffs, occasionally becoming extremely steep. The fine layer of snow and ice caused several of the horses to slip more than once, and it was only when his own steed lost balance that Elessar gave the order to dismount and continue on foot.

The cold wind announcing an early Winter was harsh on their faces and burnt in their eyes. Elessar couldn't help but to think about the attempt of crossing Caradhras with the Fellowship. The thought made him smile bitterly in frustration and hope that the situation wouldn't repeat itself, but it gave him the energy to keep walking.

At some point, it started to snow, and the white flakes that started to accompany the wind made it almost unbearable. At the first request from one of the warriors to stop, Elessar willingly agreed and they sought a place to take refuge. Again he found himself wishing, this time that they'd remembered to bring better clothing and furs. Winter was on his way, but unfortunately the cold had come ahead to torment them in anticipation.

They found a convenient cavity in the rocky wall that would shelter them minimally. It also enabled them to get a small fire going, and the large group surrounded it. Everyone reached out their hands wrapped in cloth to the fire and Aragorn took the opportunity to consult one of the wisest and more experienced warriors present.

"You know the lay of this land better than I do. Tell me, is the end of this stretch of our journey still far away?" The warriors closer to them turned their attention to hear the man's answer.

"The road isn't much longer, we've already walked for more than the half of it. We should reach the end of it by afternoon." The faces of the people in the party became somewhat lighter, hearing they would soon be rid of all the cold, but Elessar considered something else.

"Do you think there will be need to find a better shelter to rest? Will the weather worsen?" Caradhras was once again in his mind.

"I know there was a second road a couple of meters back that led to a great cavern; I took refuge there many times whenever I was caught in a storm. But I don't think it necessary, my Lord. We will be able to proceed."

"Good." Then he raised his voice so that everyone would hear. "Warm yourselves the best you can. We go out again as soon as possible." The warriors' expressions varied from relief that they'd be going to a more comfortable place and despair that they'd have to face the elements again. Andril fell into the second group.

Elessar understood them entirely. He rathered they didn't have to walk further in the cold so soon, but it was something inevitable. He remembered Caradhras again, as he dug his booted feet in the thickening layer of snow and pulled his horse, and remembered his good friend Legolas as well. That elf would have been walking merrily around here without a care in the world, Elessar thought. I wonder what he'd say if he saw us now. Probably that he would go fetch the sun!

~*~

The night was peaceful and quiet, yet the elf was disturbed by his dreams. Gradually, the deep shuddering breaths gave way to moans, louder and louder, till the point when he had to shout "NNOOO!!" out to the night and woke up, remembering only flashes of his nightmare.

He abruptly sat up, facing the west. The moon was starting to fade in the clearing sky, and its white reflection could be guessed in the distance, through the night's mist, over the Great River's spreading waters. In only a minute, however, Gwilor was at Legolas' side, bow in hand.

"Mellon, something troubles you?" He'd heard the scream and had left his watch place to come see his friend, with a concerned face and a reassuring hand on the shoulder.

Legolas shook his head in response, hoping at the same time to put behind him the images of the battle for Minas Tirith of years ago. Forgetting them was something that he'd given up long ago.

"Memories, that's all." He said with a slight smile, and Gwilor returned to his watch, knowing full well but still wishing that there was something he could do to comfort his friend.

After a while of vain thinking, the elven Prince suddenly grew worried. He had stumbled upon a scene that he did not remember belonging to the real battle: Aragorn (strangely with his formal royal outfit), being stabbed in the back by an orc with a foul and rotten grin. It was then that he had awoken.

He stood for only a moment longer, forcing himself to remember more of this new scene, but instantly realised that it didn't matter: it was no more than a nightmare. He lay down once again and watched the sun's light timidly spilling over the grounds, as he waited for day to break.

By the time he'd decided to finally get up, the elf had forgotten his dream altogether and hastily gathered his things in his pack to continue on his journey. He was going to visit his father, King Thranduil, to the northern Eryn Lasgalen, former Mirkwood.

Gwilor was a friend who presented the excuse that he missed Lasgalen and wanted to see it again to go along with Legolas, but the Prince knew better. He knew that Gwilor had just returned to Ithilien months back from one of those very visits, and knew that the other just couldn't stand that Legolas was to travel on his own. Habits of more dangerous days were still too fresh to let go of, but Legolas didn't mind in the least. He was actually very grateful for the company.

He found Gwilor already devouring his breakfast and wasted no time in joining him, after a comment on how he resembled a Hobbit that earned him a swat on the back of the neck. They left soon afterwards, for Legolas missed his relatives dearly, having not seen them for more than a year, and wished not to take longer than strictly necessary to get there.

As they were walking in amicable silence, Legolas wondered on his departure from Ithilien, how he had approached the gates of the elven colony and merrily said his goodbyes to his people, and beheld the bliss of that beautiful city for the last time.

By the end of that day, the two companions had left the green regions completely and braced themselves for a two days' walk among nothing but stone. They were nearing the southern counterforts of the Emyn Muil, but far from the Dead Marshes. They would not go that way, for Sauron's foul influence was still felt in those lands. There they set camp and decided that they would take the long way around and go through the mountains.

As expected, a pair of days later, they were leaving the rough and sharp edges of the hills. Thanking the Valar for the end of the arid and labyrinthical lands that forced them to take special attention to the sun and stars for directions, they rejoiced that they were able to move fast once again in the plains that followed.

"Ai, Yavanna! Why have you abandoned this poor land? Please, bless it with life once again, for it deserves a second chance." Gwilor said as a farewell to the Emyn Muil.

They looked north and saw the Brown Lands opening to meet them, and, in the West, the Anduin, its waters rushing as ever to meet the imposing Argonath. Again they camped for the night for a few hours alone; they didn't need more than that.

Long before the sun had fully risen from the smooth horizon in the East, Legolas saw the shadow of an eagle high in the sky, where mortal eyes couldn't see her. She flew towards West, made a few circles above the two, and continued heading North. Wondering if it was any of Gwaihir's eagles he'd just met, he too continued his travel to the North.

Seeing the eagle, he began to think of something he had already noticed, but to which he'd paid no heed at the time. I wonder as to the reason of this silence... The birds are speechless and the trees are tense. 'Tis as if an unseen danger was lurking behind every shadow, haunting them...

In fact, what leaves had endured Autumn and remained in the scarce trees were ominously still, there wasn't the tiniest breeze in the air and no sound but for the elves' light and almost imperceptible steps could be heard. He gazed searching for any life signs in the area, but everything seemed lifeless.

Legolas attributed it to the proximity of the zone to Mordor, on one side, and Dol Guldur, on the other. It was a surrounded area. After all, he thought, it's been only a few years since the Enemy fell. Deep in his heart, though, a shadow was forming.

By the end of that day, the duo was about to reach the southern edge of the great forest, and made camp in plain sight of the trees. In this new stage, they would head North until the Old Forest Road, where they could finally enter Eryn Lasgalen and proceed to King Thranduil's halls. But things were not meant to be that way...


TBC...

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If you didn't like the 'Caradhras thingy' as it became known around here, please do join up with Helluin! He was against it and ordered me to make "the storm less stormy"... I did all I could, but he still didn't agree with it... oh well... Pray tell what you thought of it! ;)