A/N: I am a truly awful, awful person for not updating sooner. It's just that I wanted every little tidbit to be perfect (it probably still isn't) and between everything that's going on in my life..well, there's no real excuse to not updating for 1/3 of a year, is there? Anyway, chapter 3 will definitely be up soon. In the meantime, please submit a review! I'm very eager to hear any feedback. Thank you for your patience.
.: Afterthought :.
: Chapter 2 - Farewell to Imladris :
After a brief lunch following the Council, Elrond sent us back to our chambers to pack. While ascending the main staircase, I caught my first ever glimpse of Arwen Undomiel, who was traversing a narrow upstairs corridor. I recognized her immediately, as she was famous all across Middle-Earth for her unparalleled beauty, and even from afar I could see that she was breathtakingly gorgeous.
I was unconscious of the fact that I had stopped walking. She caught sight of me, standing rather foolishly on the middle of the stairs, and turned her head to meet my eye. For a still moment, our gazes were locked. She was still and remote, but I could sense a deep, riveting sadness that lingered in her fathomless eyes. Time seemed to skipped a heartbeat.
Then I blinked - and she was gone. I didn't know this, but the next time I would lay eyes on her would be at her wedding day.
That night, a raging storm shook the skies and lashed torrents of rain onto Middle-Earth. I sat on my bed, looking out into the darkness and listening to the furious cracks of lightning. My mind was troubled and uneasy.
How could nine travelers even hope to make this impossible journey? The path itself was already arduous enough - the merciless rocks of Emyn Muil, the bitter cold of the Cahadras, the swamps, the rivers, the barren wastelands...all these obstacles we would have to overcome and somehow find enough kill or vegetation to sustain nine Companions. Then there were Sauron's forces. Birds in the air would report our every move, monsters in the waters would lurk after our steps, and always, always would the sharp fear of Nazgûl linger in the dark corners of our minds.
I closed my eyes. The Fellowship was due to embark on a fruitless journey. One that would only lead to death and destruction.
Where was that feeling I had experienced a few hours ago when I'd first volunteered to accompany Frodo? Why wasn't the thrill of danger or the excitement of a new journey coursing through my veins any longer? All of those feelings weren't supposed to be temporary. I wasn't supposed to doubt my decision.
I opened my eyes again and looked about my room miserably. The few possessions that I owned were all packed up, resting against a corner along with my bow and quiver, the latter of which was filled with a few dozen silver-tipped arrows. I didn't want to think where all those beautifully handmade arrows would be lodged in after this journey.
Sighing in dismay, I decided to put out the flickering candles and try to get some rest. As I laid my head down on the cool pillow, the image of Arwen's sad eyes burned in my mind. I wondered if her unhappiness had to do with tomorrow's journey, but troubled dreams soon overcame me and I thought no more of her.
The following day, we got off to a rough start. It was about 5 o'clock in the morning, and nobody seemed to have gotten enough sleep. Every face bore either an expression of weariness or doubt, save Gandalf the Grey. The old Wizard was bustling about, helping Sam stuff his pots into his bag, making sure Boromir had brought enough blankets, convincing Merry not to bring six pound's worth of weed, grooming Bill the pony...I could only stare in wonder at his energy.
"Ne'er thought I'd see Gandalf the Grey, with all his thousands of years, doing work this early in the morn with the enthusiasm and strength of a young man. Puts us to shame, doesn't he?" A tired but amused voice came from behind me. I turned around to see Aragorn bent over his own bag, trying to fit in a few more pieces of lembas bread.
"Here, let me help you with that." Together we (somehow) managed to push aside a few articles of clothing to make room for the bread. Aragorn then sealed the pack with a satisfying knot.
"Thanks," he said, pulling back a few strands of dark hair as he stood up. "How're you feeling about this whole thing?"
"I'm completely insecure and dubious," I replied honestly. "And actually a bit hungry, too."
Aragorn laughed, throwing his head back.
"Well, it's good to know at least one other person shares my feelings," he grinned. Despite his lighthearted tone and carefree smile, I couldn't help but notice his slightly bloodshot eyes and the dark circles beneath them. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who hadn't slept well.
And with that thought, I definitely felt my spirits rise a notch as the Fellowship began to depart, in single file, from the beautiful haven of Imladris.
The journey that the Nine Companions took was undoubtedly an unforgettable one. Hours, days, weeks, months of endless travels, taking us to the exotic countries and beautiful landscapes, where we met enemies, strangers and if we were lucky, friends. These memories which I hold dear to my heart will remain with me until my ashes are scattered into the Sea, but there thrives so many of them, all so lush in detail, that to recount them all would be rather stupid, when this tale is woven around the curious relationship that Aragorn and I developed. In saying this, I shall choose leave out some of the extraneous material (maybe for another story sometime) and focus on the events that built up what is truly important to this story.
One such event took place exactly a week after our departure. We had left the valley of Rivendell behind us and were crossing a small but dense forest that would eventually bring us out to the Cahadras. It was late in the evening; stars could be seen littered across the sky like secretive, glinting gems, and up to this point, we hadn't yet laid eyes on any potential enemies. That wasn't, however, a very comforting thought - instead, it made us all the more wary and anxious of a sudden attack.
The Fellowship reached a small open clearing surrounded by enormous elm trees with trunks so thick that all of our arms linked around probably would not have encircled one. Camp was set up quickly; everyone was looking forward to a well-deserved rest. As Boromir and I started a small fire, the hobbits and Gimli unpacked, and Gandalf the Grey standing watch, Aragorn volunteered to gather firewood to keep the blaze going through the night, for the October nights were growing chilly.
As I watched his lithe figure disappear into the trees, I could not help but suppress a feeling of unease. It was late at night, and if something happened to him...well, I didn't want to think of that. So as soon as Boromir and I had managed a small spark, I grabbed my bow and quiver and quietly slipped from the camp and into the forest, using my keen eyesight to follow the slight tracks he'd left. The trees around me were deadly silent and the only sound I heard was my own nervous breathing.
After a few minutes' wandering, I found him gathering twigs under an ancient elm, an already sizable bundle of wood balancing in his arms. In my careless relief, I stepped on a stick, which gave away under my weight. The crack resonated through the silent night sky.
In the swiftest of motions, Aragorn unsheathed his sword (still managing to hold onto to the firewood, which when I reminded him later, he found very funny). "Who's there?" he called out, muscles tense and ready to spring.
I recollected myself after a moment of pure shock. I'd never seen any creature react so quickly, and this almost unnatural speed unnerved me.
"It's just me," I said, stepping into the moonlit clearing. A look of relief passed over his face and he lowered his blade.
"What're you doing here? You nearly gave me a heart attack," he said pointedly.
"You - you shouldn't be here alone," I stammered a little, suddenly feeling rather stupid. "I don't want anything happening-"
"I can take care of myself, you know," he interrupted, now clearly annoyed. "Just because I'm not immortal doesn't mean I can't-"
"Quiet!" I hissed, for unless my eyes had deceived me, I had just seen a movement in the underbrush -
But Aragorn, in his vexed rant, had taken no notice, and was now looking at me with confusion and anger written all over his face.
"Legolas, I don't think you should be telling me to close my mouth when I'm in the mid-"
"Behind you!" I cried.
He turned, but it was too late.
I watched in horror as the massive form sprang up behind Aragorn, knocking him down. He fell with a muffled cry, wood scattering everywhere. By this time, I had had my arrow notched, but they were grappling now, and I could not make out anything in the dark, save another shadow in the trees-
I released the arrow, and it hit true to its mark. The shadow fell with a thump, but more were coming up behind it, emitting dangerous, low growls...arrow after arrow flew into their hides, but they were advancing steadily, their desire for blood inflating. I knew the two of us wouldn't be able to hold them off for long.
"We have to run, there's too many of them!" I cried, releasing another silver-tipped dagger. The beast ontop Aragorn looked up at me in surprise, for strangely, it had not noticed me before, and at that precise moment, Aragorn reached up and gouged out the creature's yellow eyes with deft fingers. I stared speechlessly at the empty, bleeding sockets. The furious, blind creature thrashed about, claws flying, and I winced as the sharp daggers tore at Aragorn's clothing and skin before the he managed to behead his enemy with a dagger and pushed himself up. At our feet was an enormous dead wolf, and in front of us, at least half a dozen more were emerging from the shadows, their yellow eyes glowing.
We immediately turned around and fled as fast as we could back to camp. Beside me, Aragorn's breathing was labored and he kept stumbling on the treacherous terrain. I grabbed his arm to guide him in the darkness and to my surprise, felt the warmth of gushing blood, but held on nonetheless. The moment we burst in the camp clearing, everybody looked up.
I'll never forget the sheer terror in Frodo's wide azure eyes when he laid eyes on the thick blood running down Aragorn's body
"Wolves," I gasped with the last of my breath. Aragorn suddenly grabbed my shoulder for support, the his sticky blood seeping onto my own skin. He was giving out.
In a fluid motion, Gandalf the Grey immediately reached for his staff, raised it to the sky and began to utter words in a tongue I did not recognize, his deep eyes focused and concentrated. Seconds after, I felt as if a dark veil had descended over us; the night grew silent, cooler, less noticeable. I looked towards the old Wizard quizzically.
"A temporary shield," he explained, eyes still closed and frowning in concentration. "Our presence here will go unnoticed for some time, but be quick, for I cannot hold the force long. We must flee. The wolves have minds of their own and will not be blinded for long."
Everybody rushed to gather their things. Seeing that Aragorn was leaning heavily on me, Gimli the Dwarf grabbed our packs, which shocked me considerably. I shot him a grateful look before following Gandalf into the opposite direction of the forest, the others running behind me. We fled for what seemed like an eternity. I was sure Aragorn's blood would provide a trail for the wolves - he was spilling so much of it onto the Earth. But Gandalf's spell worked well, and we left the forest safely.
Once we were out, Gandalf pushed us to keep going for a few hundred yards across a flat, barren meadow. When he decided we were far enough from the forest, judging by the fact that the wolves avoided open spaces, I was able to guide Aragorn down on the barren, wasted grass.
Gandalf immediately began issuing orders. "Boromir and Gimli, keep watch. If any foe should appear, Boromir, use the Horn of Gondor to alert us. Halflings, a river flows to the west. Go now together, and bring back as much water as you can. There is no more danger, but you must stay together. Legolas, where did he get hurt?"
"His chest and arms were scratched, and I fear he got bitten on his shoulders and back." I said, my heart sinking with every word as I helplessly watched Gandalf stoop over and check the now-unconscious Aragorn's pulse.
"He's lost a lot of blood, but he'll make it," the Wizard said wearily after a few seconds. "The poison shouldn't cause him anything but excruciating pain when he wakes, but just to make sure, we must wash his wounds. I need to gather some of the Athelas plant. I need you to undress him and staunch the blood flow." I nodded, and he disappeared quickly.
With trembling fingers, I managed to peel off his tunic, which wasn't difficult at all, as it was already torn into shreds. Using these strips, I bound his upper arms tightly so that his blood circulation would be limited at his forearms, which bore deep cuts. It was difficult work, for the blood made the bandages slippery and even Elven eyes cannot see properly in the dark. Aragorn did not stir or utter any words through this entire process, and this lack of mobility filled me with a wrenching terror. It wasn't until I began to feel a tight, sharp feeling in my throat that I realized streams of tears were trailing down my cheeks.
Please, please let him live...
TO BE CONTINUED
