Chapter 5 – Rebirth
Disclaimer: Aragorn and Legolas and all them Ring things are not, were never, and never will be, mine.
"You can keep gawking all day," said Black a few hours later as the three companions rode across the valley, "they're not going to go away."
Aragorn and Legolas slowly lowered their eyes.
"Or - " she went on, "I could tell you one of their stories?"
Black laughed at the sight of the Elf's face. "Perhaps not. The Fairy wouldn't have the stomach for it."
Legolas bored a hole into the woman with his eyes. He could only hope that Aluhin's companions were not so grisly.
Black ignored his glare, and rocked back and forth in the saddle as an old, familiar bar tune drifted into her mind.
"I got friends in low places," she whispered.
"I bet you do," muttered the Elf.
"Need you comment on everything?" Black sighed. "Ruddy fairy."
They came upon the river suddenly. The sound of the horses' thundering hooves had overpowered the water's gentle gurgling. At the sight of the river the Elf's face became solemn and he whispered something under his breath, in which Black discerned the word 'Aluhin.' He started to dismount.
"Don't you dare get off that horse, Fairy-boy," Black growled.
Legolas looked at her with that look he always gave her; that look of disgust, hatred, and mistrust.
"I do not answer to you, Aegnor," he growled back.
"Aye, you do so long as you travel with me," Black told him.
"You," his hand moved toward his bow.
"Legolas," Aragorn warned with a shake of his head, at the sight of the glint in Black's eyes.
"Let the horses drink, refill the water canteens, then we go on," she said.
The others obeyed, though the Elf did so reluctantly. He desired to spend time near the water, so as to feel near his beloved. The woman, Aegnor, however, was clearly determined not to let anything of the sort happen. If not for the Quest...
She was gasping, coughing. The fire-wielding woman was caught in the grip of some kind of spasmodic attack, bent doubled over and lurching uncontrollably. Legolas had no pity. Perhaps she was human after all.
The woman forced them to ride on through the night, without stopping. They continued to ride hard all the next day as well. The mountains moved closer, and in no apparent time at all, they were looming over the riders; casting the three into shadow.
"Hurry," the woman wheezed as she dragged the saddle off her horse and turned it loose. "There's a pass around here somewhere."
Though the woman of fire's face grew more pale and stretched, her breathing more ragged, she moved on with great haste. On the third day in the snow-covered mountains, Aragorn grew worried.
"Perhaps you should rest," he offered when the woman was racked by another hacking fit.
"No," she replied between coughs. "Rest...is not...what I...need."
"At least drink some water," Aragorn insisted.
She knocked his outstretched hand and canteen away. "If I get thirsty...I'll grab a handful of snow. Not that any amount of water would quell this fire," she added.
"Don't waste your time or pity on her," Legolas whispered as the woman stumbled away. "Let her die if she will."
Aragorn's words were harsh. "You will take the Ring the rest of the way to Rivendell, then?"
Legolas shut up.
Aragorn had many fears. He feared that the woman would die of cold, or exhaustion, or fever, and that he then would be left to take the hideous ring the remaining way to Rivendell. He feared also, that in her declining physical state, the woman would lead them astray, and they would never find their way to the House of Elrond; or that the enemy would find them in their snow-blindness before they reached Imladris: or, finally, that they would all perish and the Ring would again be lost, and never find the elven haven.
She was beside him.
"There," she pointed.
They were at the edge of the slope downward-they had made it threw to the other side, and were looking down upon vast, green fields, and in the distance: Rivendell.
The woman went over to a place where tiny icicles formed at every crevice in the ice. She took her cloak off, folded it up, placed it on the ground, and sat on it.
"Sliding is faster than walking," she smiled at Aragorn. And with a heave of her arms, she went soaring downhill.
"She'll brake her neck," Aragorn breathed.
"You think so?" Legolas said, almost hopefully.
Aragorn ignored him. Instead, he took off his cloak, folded it, put it on the ground, and sat on it.
"Come on." He yanked the Elf to the ground next to him.
"Aragorn - " but they were already sliding.
Black was waiting for them at the bottom.
"Sliding is faster than walking," she said again. "But I doubt that, with all your pride, you've ever gone sledding down a mountain on your bum?" she asked the Elf as he rose quickly to his feet.
He chose not to answer. His backside was very much bruised.
"It's not far, now," she went on as she rolled her cloak up and fastened it to the bottom of the pack she was carrying. "Let's go."
That night the woman had them camp and rest. Aragorn thought that she would soon pass out, but instead she sat up all night in the moonlight, working and whittling her odd spear. In the morning she looked to be on the edge of death.
"Forgot...what it was...like," the woman mumbled to herself as she gathered up her pack. "Haven't...lived to see a...natural burning day...in...so long..."
Aragorn became anxious. Had she said 'burning day?'
Midway through the day the three came upon a small grove of trees. The woman halted.
"Perhaps we should start digging a hole?" Legolas whispered.
"You cannot remain bitter forever," Aragorn whispered back.
The woman began to stumble into the trees.
"Aegnor!" Legolas called while stepping forward. "Where are you off to?"
In spite of her failing health, the woman's tongue was still sharp. "Keep your distance, Fairy-boy, or it'll be you we throw into the hole in the ground." She hobbled into the grove without looking back. She took a few steps, then ran into a tree, repeatedly, like the ball from a slow motion pinball game. "Where is it? It's here...somewhere..." and she disappeared.
Aragorn and Legolas waited on the edge of the trees, waiting for the woman's return, as she had instructed them. Aragorn was worried, however, that they would have to go into the trees after her to find her lifeless body face down in the dirt.
An hour later Aragorn's head shot up at the sound of a snapped twig. Legolas was staring into the trees.
"Aegnor?"
A shadow moved among the grove, and the dark woman stepped out. She stood tall, her long hair playing in the wind; the grotesque, puffy scars on her face reduced to lines, nicks and cuts compared to what they used to be. Her feet as well as her right shoulder were bare, her pants of a worn brown color were dappled with various rips and tears. The shirt, top, she wore was a dirt-stained green, fitting snugly down to just below her belly button. There was a leather strap from her left shoulder around her torso, and another strap around her waist, slightly lower on her right hip than the left, and both straps had various trinkets and pouches, not to mention daggers, attached. A beaded rope was fitted around, below her right knee, and another around her left thigh. There was a silver bracelet on her upper right arm, and three small silver rings in her upper left ear. She was smiling, and in her eyes a new fire raged.
She had been reborn.