*smiles brightly* Nine reviews is a record for a single chapter of one of my chaptered stories. I think I can manage to toil away happily if so many of you continue to share your thoughts. Hint, hint. *smiles more widely* Hm, I think I'll do something different for a change. I'm going to put the responses at the bottom. No particular reason, I just want to see how it works. Sorry about not bolding the names last chapter; I forgot.
Now, I hope I haven't forgotten anything important--I'm always doing that--and enjoy the lastest chapter. My gift for your reviews. *g* Have fun!
Chapter 2
Desiring little more than to reach the High Pass before it was blocked by the winter snows, Legolas and Aragorn rode hard through Mirkwood's path, fairly duplicating the mad dash Aragorn had made with his brothers on his original entrance into the great woods. He grimaced guiltily. At this pace, I will run poor Hodoer into the ground. As it was, though, the steed seemed to take great delight in the pounding rush.
Then, after several days, they reached the mouth of the pass, and the very familiar walls of stone that stretched on as far as his eyes could see rose up before them, impossibly tall. As if by some signal, both horses slowed, their riders watching the entrance warily.
Feet from committing to the possibly treacherous trip, both stopped, studying the path that was placed before them, lost in thought. Casting back, Aragorn tried to find a single good memory that encompassed this pass and could find none. The closest he could come were the odd, or not so odd, teasing moments with the twins or Legolas as they journeyed from one place to the other, in between dangers while they yet remained hale. His silvery eyes were wary as he studied the snow on the floor.
Legolas looked at him, the barest hint of a smile teasing his lips. Wryly, he said, "What do you want to bet we'll meet up with Orcs before we make it all the way through?"
He looked at the elf who had gone through so much for him, with him, and was struck with uncertainty. "Legolas," he began. "Are you sure you don't want to stay in Mirkwood? You do not have to--"
"Of course I do not have to, Strider," Legolas interrupted, meeting his friend's gaze. "Do you not want me to come?" he demanded, and something like fear chased briefly across his gaze, gone so quickly as to be unidentifiable.
"Of course I want you to come," the ranger assured automatically, looking as thought Legolas had just slapped him.
"Then what are you going on about?" the elf prince asked, preempting anything else the ranger might have wanted to add, specifically anything that began with "but". He laughed lightly. "Not even you can make me do something I do not want to do."
Aragorn grinned, the elf's good humor pulling him away from dark thoughts, and he was not all that eager to stay near them in the first place. He shot his friend a sly glance. "Oh, I see. So you want to be drugged. I will remember that, my friend. Mayhap I should tell Ada, I'm sure he would just love to know how much you favor his tea!"
"Don't you dare!" the elf exclaimed wildly, well aware of Lord Elrond's infamous tea. The young man burst out laughing, and Legolas could not help but smile in response. It was good to hear the young man laugh, even if it was at his expense, for it erased the shadows that haunted his gaze, and those shadows had remained for far too long. "Come, let us move on. We are here, but that does not mean the pass will stay open."
The young man responded by urging Hodoer forward, and Legolas followed easily. "How well I know it."
Blue eyes looked at him curiously. "What does that mean?
"It means I know it well." The horses trotted along calmly, snorting quietly in the cold air with the thin fall of snow crunching under their hooves as their weight pressed it together and shifted its form.
Legolas rolled his eyes. "I wonder about you."
Laughter bubbled up from inside the ranger and spilled from his lips, the sound bouncing of the stone that rose on either side of them. Sparkling eyes regarded the elf. "Join the club."
"What club?" Legolas asked, confused. The young man only laughed. "Strider, what club? What am I missing?"
"Nothing important."
The elf prince studied the human before him, then looked ahead when he decided he was going to get no further answers from the annoying human. He was willing to swear the man got stranger every year. "I didn't think it possible," he commented after a moment, and felt the man look at him, "for you to become any more incomprehensible, but once again I have been proved wrong."
Instead of Aragorn finding that statement funny like he had thought he would, the ranger calmed and looked at him inquisitively, almost curiously, like the suggestion that the elf had been wrong was a novel concept. "When else were you proved wrong?"
A gentle smile touched the elf's lips. "When I met you," he answered. "When you showed me that all Men were not the monsters I had believed them to be and I gained a friend I never thought I would have." He laughed lightly and turned to the human. "I have never been so glad to be wrong."
Aragorn smiled at him. "I'm glad you were wrong, too."
Now Legolas laughed in earnest. It was so good to have his friend back, truly back, not the twitchy, overly emotional shadow that had wandered into his home months ago. He glanced up, looking at the sky and caught a shift in the winds though he could not see the clouds. "A storm is coming."
"A storm?" questioned Aragorn, concerned. His brow furrowed as he cast his own eyes up to the sky. It was gray, as though overcast, but no clouds hung overhead. The sun shone down weakly through the chill air, just preparing to descend past the mountains that surrounded them on either side. "Are you sure?"
"Aye, though we should reach Rivendell before it unleashes its fury."
The ranger paused, testing the air, but though his senses were keen, he did not yet feel the storm. His hands ached, and he rubbed them idly, barely registering the pain. "Perhaps. But weather around these parts is treacherous, especially at this time of year. Mayhap it will catch us unawares."
Legolas turned back to look at the human. "Does that mean you do not want to cross the pass?"
He did not answer for a long minute, staring towards the east, gaze fixed upon the sky as he searched . . . for what, even he could not say. A sign, perhaps, that the storm Legolas foretold was not upon them, that the doom that settled upon his heart at the elf's words was naught but a small boy's fears brought back to life, that there was no more to the storm than a bit of rain or snow and everything would be fine. Why did he think there was any need to be assured of any of it?
He blinked, turning his gaze from the emotionless expanse above him and felt a gentle hand on his arm. He looked down into the calm, concerned blue eyes of his friend. He smiled slightly. "Let's continue," he announced. "If a storm does threaten, we want to be as close to Rivendell as possible before it strikes. After all, we don't want to be caught in the middle of the pass during a snow storm." He urged Hodoer forward, and Legolas followed.
"You don't speak from personal experience, do you, my friend?" asked Legolas with a laugh. The ranger did not answer, and the elf blinked at him in surprise before exclaiming. "You do!"
"And your point is?" demanded Aragorn archly, leveling a stare at his fair friend.
"Surely your father told you not to go?"
The stare did not waver. "He did." A strangled laugh escaped the elf. Legolas could not believe he was having this conversation again! Truly, did the human never learn?
The young man countered. "Tell me, Legolas, have you never done something stupid against your father's advice."
The elf prince chuckled ruefully. "Strider, since I met you I have done many things my father has warned me against."
"Then you have no room to talk, Master Elf."
"That's fine. I do not want to talk. I want you to talk."
The human looked back at him with a vague smile, caught somewhere between amused and playing innocent. "About what?"
"This prior experience you have with bad weather in the pass."
"Oh, that." Aragorn frowned slightly, thinking about it, his expression distant. He shook his head. "It's not important."
"And your point is?"
The ranger chuckled. "All it was, was a bit of nieve stupidity and adolescent overconfidence that I do not care to elucidate. But if your curiosity is not to be satisfied with something so vague as that, you may inquire of the twins. They, I'm sure, would be more than willing to tell you."
"Which means I must wait."
"Patience is a virtue."
"So is selflessness," Legolas retorted, "but both can be taken too far."
Aragorn looked sideways at the elf, his expression wry, eyes slitted. "You would not accept such a response from me," he noted darkly.
Legolas raised his chin, the patented look of superiority almost comical in their bleak surroundings. It was the kind of look one expected of someone seated on a throne surrounded by treasure and dressed in fine robes (Aragorn would never admit--not even in own his mind--to associating the look with King Thranduil) and had to stifle a laugh even before the prince spoke. "I'm older."
He snorted, the only indication of his humor, and replied dryly, "That's your excuse for everything."
"No, my excuse is that you are younger," the Mirkwood archer denied.
"But you still turn to age as the determining factor," the ranger said, his tone nearly eager.
"And your point is?" Inquired the prince archly.
Aragorn glanced over at him, the faintest hint of a smile on his face, then turned around and shook his head marginally, assuming a nonchalant pose. "No, no point. Who needs a point?" He asked.
Legolas snorted, the sound completely ruining his dignified act. He conveniently decided to ignore it. "So?" he prompted.
Aragorn glanced back at him and the elf raised his eyebrows expectantly. The human shook his head. "All right, young one." He danced his horse away as Legolas tried to swat at him. "I will tell you."
"Thank you," Legolas said with dignity.
They walked on, the snow crunching under foot as the horses moved on. It bounced off the stone walls, quietly, and the sound was loud in the silence, broken only by the lonely whistle of the wind through the canyon. The elf waited expectantly, but Aragorn did not seem inclined to speak.
Legolas frowned. "Strider?"
"Hm?"
"Your story?" he prodded.
The ranger looked at him blankly. "What about it?"
"What about it?" Legolas repeated, incredulous. "You said you'd tell, human."
He caught the faintest hint of a smile on the young man's face as he returned his attention before him, and he could hear amusement in his voice when he spoke. "So I did, Master Elf. But, my friend, I did not say when."
Legolas glared, amusement and irritation battling inside him for domination. That was something the twins would do. They had had far too great an influence on his friend, that was certain.
Cautiously, the human glanced back at the prince, a smile sparkling in his eyes. Once the ranger got a look at his face, however, the smile reached his lips and became laughter, which made the prince's frown deepen. Unreasonably, this caused Aragorn to laugh harder. The prince glanced away in annoyance, then looked back. "Strider!"
"I'm sorry, my friend," he said, but he did not look all that sorry, a smile hovering on his face even after he conquered his laughter. "It is not often I am on the other side of this discussion."
That won a reluctant smile from the elf, even though he had no idea what his friend was talking about, and Legolas shook his head. "Well, now you've had your fun. What happened?"
"Against my family's wishes, I decided to follow my brothers on a trip to Mirkwood when I was sixteen. What I didn't realize was that a storm was coming nor how cold it could get. On foot and ill prepared, I decided to cross the pass in winter."
"With a storm coming," Legolas emphasized, his voice low with incredulity. His eyes widened when Aragorn nodded. He shook his head. "I cannot believe you did that." He laughed suddenly, "And yet I can."
A smirk quirked the ranger's lips. "Your confidence is overwhelming," he noted wryly.
"Truly, I cannot decide which was more foolish: crossing the pass or crossing the wastelands! Who saved your neck that time? Surely no one else was so foolish."
The ranger chuckled lightly, scanning the many crags around him for hidden enemies. "I've changed my mind: ask Gandalf and not the twins. Mayhap you will learn something from him I could not."
"What would Mithrandir know about your folly?"
"More than I do, I'm sure. I cannot remember how I got home. It was Ada who told me Gandalf who brought me home many days later, and by that time, the wizard was already gone."
Wide eyes stared at the young man beside him. He opened his mouth, perhaps with the intention of asking what would possess the wizard to travel in such foul weather, perhaps to comment on something else entirely, then closed it and shook his head. "It is not wise to meddle in the affairs of wizards," he finally responded.
"So I've been told," answered Aragorn.
"But will you listen?" Legolas pressed, a teasing smile on his face.
Aragorn glared at him, but the elf was not the least bit impressed and his smile merely widened. The ranger's lips twitched, then he looked ahead and managed to say carelessly, "With you as a role model, what do you expect."
Legolas shot an amused glare at his friend's back but refrained from commenting. Instead, he let silence fall between them and turned his attention to his surroundings. His keen gaze took in the jagged edges too often broken, the hard stone thrown into sharp relief by the smattering of soft white snow that failed to blanket their surroundings but which nevertheless covered the floor of the pass with several inches. The shadows cast by the light of the sun weighed in his mind, and he tensed.
Their latest adventure--misadventure if one wanted to be precise--had brought home to him how fragile human lives were, how quickly a situation could change from good to bad, how much he feared losing his young friend and companion. He had thought he realized all this after the many other catastrophes that had sent them to one of their homes, death close on their heels. . . . But there was something about seeing his friend so still, as if death had already claimed him, with nothing to be done and no way to help, no possibility of medical aid bringing him back, that chilled his heart and made him fear the loss all the more keenly.
The silence, where once there had been speech pressed upon his mind, strangling his senses with expectation. So many bad things had befallen him and his friends in this pass, so many times, that it was hard to imagine there could be no danger. Orcs and goblins so often haunted the unforgiving stone that safety in the harsh land was unimaginable to the elf prince. Silence was best. But the crunch of snow under horse hoof and the steady sound of their breathing echoed loudly in his ears, and for all that there could be danger, he had to fight to remain silent, the need to break it growing with each passing second.
"Is something wrong, Legolas?"
The words dropped into the silence, disturbing it as a large stone disturbs a tranquil lake, and Legolas jumped, his eyes darting to his friend who was looking at him curiously, concern tingeing the depths of his silver eyes. "Nay, nothing is wrong."
"Then what troubles you, mellon nin?"
Now that the brooding silence had been broken, the concern--the desperation with which he had felt it--seemed ludicrous. He shrugged. "I was thinking of our many adventures here. Such fond memories," he added dryly.
Aragorn laughed, the sound oddly free to the elf's ears. "Yes. Quite. But I doubt we'll run into any Orcs this time. Me and my brothers took out a fairly large horde on the way over." The elf nodded, but the human continued before he could say anything. "Though we should pick up the pace unless we wish to spend the night."
The two friends urged their mounts into a quick trot and maintained that pace as many hours slipped past, foregoing lunch in favor of going on and riding until the last light had fled the sky from the pale sun and the first stars had made their appearance above their heads. Then and only then, well away from the High Pass and under friendlier trees, did they come to a halt, finally allowing their faithful steeds a well deserved break; one they were more than willing to give.
"Hannon le, Ardevui," Legolas whispered, stroking his steed's neck after he gave it food and water. Behind him, Aragorn moved about kindling a fire from dry twigs he had collected from the ground. Their breath clouded before them with every exhale, the temperature (which had not been warm to begin with) dropping further the more time passed. It meant little to him, but he knew his friend was freezing, no matter how well he hid it. "Hannon le, Hodoer," he said and patted his friend's horse even though the ranger had spent several minutes with the creature, then picked up the packs he had removed and carried them next to the fire near Aragorn, who had by that time managed to make a cheery blaze.
Aragorn looked up at his approach and flashed a quick smile, accepting the packs with a nod and began to prepare supper. Wordless, the elf left to check their surroundings and ensure they had not camped over an orc camp or some other such foul thing that would have been detrimental to their continued health. He found none, and within moments they were both seated peacefully around the fire.
They sat in comfortable silence as they ate. Just before Aragorn laid down, his quiet voice floated through the air. "We have made good time. We will be in Rivendell soon."
Idly, Legolas wondered if the words had been meant for his ears, or if they were for Aragorn, himself. The ranger looked ill at ease despite his words, and the elf prince wondered if he had seen something, heard something, or if it was just all their fears getting the best of them after so much darkness. Suddenly discontent, he settled down to maintain his watch. As he did so, he held on to one thought: we will be in Rivendell soon.
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The land was unmoving, shadows cloaking the trees and all who resided under them, shadows that did not always leave with the coming of the dawn, did not flee from the sun as they ought. Silence stretched, calm in its would-be peacefulness, yet filled with a familiar tension, known to the residents of the wood but unnamed. Yet while the outside was concerned with the shadow, the shadow paid the outside no heed further than was necessary for their plans.
Deep within the mountain they waited, unearthly shrieks breaking the silence at odd intervals. Fear was the law of the land, and the creatures who roamed the dark tunnels had learned it well, avoiding the tunnels where their masters tread and so went unnoticed by their ire.
A scream rent the silence and the flames guttered as though in sympathy to the pain in that cry, the fear. Most paused at the sound, the emotions of the listeners ranging from scornful derision to outright glee, the pain and fear of others their life's blood, their own true love.
Two, though, paid it no heed as they wandered some of the deepest tunnels, far away from their uncouth underlings and away from prying eyes and telling ears. Their robes, one dark gray and the other black, scraped listlessly against the ground, the breathless scraping hanging eerily in the silence.
"Everything is in place," one said, his satisfaction evident, his voice low and rough as if from too little or too frequent use, the voice of one who has seen too many years.
"Our enemies will soon know their folly," the second affirmed confidently, his voice ringing with glee, a stark contrast to his companion.
Sharp black eyes, unnatural looking in light or gloom, darted towards his companion. "The Shadow that once held all Middle-earth in sway grows strong yet again. This day has been a long time in coming." What he thought of this, whether approval or not, was hard to say. His words lacked inflection, said as if by rote. His eyes reflected all and told nothing.
The second stepped forward and turned, forcing the other to stop, his eyes the only thing to be seen beneath his hood, fierce and unyielding, hard as ice, a malicious sparkle in the gloom. "All is ready. My men will not fail and the sons of Elrond shall be in our grasp."
Silence passed as those words sunk in, their threat hovering in the air as if in challenge, a challenge that went unanswered and slowly fell away.
The first spoke, his voice both placating and warning. "I have no doubt that the Elf twins will come to your hands, capable as they are. It is more uncertain, however, if they will divulge the information you desire."
"They will. Or rather, they will be made to." A certain fiendish amusement could be detected in his voice if one listened closely enough, a certain scorn, as if he derived pleasure from knowing the weaknesses of others but could not hold with any such weaknesses himself. "Their weakness is in their compassion . . . for their friends, their family. Once we have their loved ones, their resistance will crumble and we will have what we desire. All you must do--"
"Do not presume to know my business, lord's servant." The words boomed through the space, filling the cavern in which the figures stood before dying away to be replaced by others, spoken more softly. "I know what I must do." A beat passed in which both contemplated the matter they had undertaken, the course events were supposed to take. "And the problem?" the first inquired after a moment.
"Will be dealt with," was the short, flat reply, the answer brooking no argument.
The other nodded. "Then all is well." The words were soft, nearly condescending.
Had his companion not known full well the necessity of their mutual cooperation for success, he would have punished him for his insubordination. As it was, he contented himself with silence, relishing the knowledge that he would not need him very long. He listened to the terrified screams that just barely reached his ears from above, relishing the pain.
The foresight of his kind was his, and he smiled, a terrifying smile that was full of deadly promise, and the words he spoke next rung with prophecy. "The world of Men will fall. The lands of Middle-earth will be covered in Shadow, and Sauron will be restored to his rightful place as lord of all the earth. We will hold dominion of all lands both east and west.
"They will be ours."
*~*~*~*~*
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Review Responses:
Pibgorn: I will most definitely continue. Thanks for the review!
Rangergirl: Thank you so much! Aragorn torture I can do. *g*
Tychen: *bows* I shall endeavor to comply with the wonderful request. Lol. Means, okay. I've been completely distressed at the lack of good literature, lately. I've been forced to peruse other categories, and theirs isn't exactly better. *frowns* Hmm, Legolas had it tough? *looks suspicious* Is that your way of telling me Aragorn needs to suffer even more? *g* Okay.
Bill the Pony2: lol. Ai, let's not get started on ff.net. It seems there's always a complaint that can be made. I would like to see one month where no hold ups occur, no slow uploads, no server busy messages, nadda. It's not gonna happen. *g* You love it? It took me forever to come up with it. In fact, I only decided on it moments before I posted. There's a whole string of titles I considered before deciding on this one. Thanks. Lol. Though it could be possible. I could just follow the example of some of those authors who are currenly writing Harry Potter stories. They give me headaches. *shakes head* *smiles* I'm glad your efforts to read proved worth it, and I hope this time isn't so difficult.
Grumpy:*giggles* Thanks, I've missed my stories, too. Lol. It's so--strange, not to post every couple of days, and I've missed hearing from everyone. Hehe. The twins, yes the twins are in here, and if I wrote it right, there's plenty of worry to go around. Mm, yes, holidays were good, holidays are always good until they're over. *smiles sadly* Just two more days of freedom, and I don't even have this story completed, must less the other one I believe you're waiting for. *sigh* And you? Have you enjoyed the holidays?
Kathira: lol. More misery indeed. I hope my plot is as well thought out as you think. I sort of lost the thread around the fifth chapter and had to pick it up again after a month long writers block, but we'll see. It feels rushed to me, which sounds completely ridiculous of a three-hundred page story. I appreciate your encouragement. It's nice to hear others say its worth it to continue. Thanks.
Lana G: Ah. *winces* Shamefully, I must admit I temporarily forgot about that. So sorry. But I shall see something done about it. I just kinda didn't write the parts where it would have been most logically included, and so it wasn't. Thank you for reminding me! It's so easy to lose the little things when I'm worried about keeping it moving. I'm glad you're enjoying it. *g*
Elfmage: Hm, healers come to mind. *g* Oh, yes, the air, too. You're talking to an insane person who wears flipflops when it's about forty degrees outside and the wind is blowing. I know all about cold feet. Cold feet hurt. *bows* Why, thank you. My standards must be really, really high, because I thought the detail was a little lacking. You can see a problem here: I always fear its not good enough. *sigh* I've got an Aragorn-complex. Lol. Oh, if you want cliffies, read The Storm. *grins wickedly* The whole story is pretty much a cliffie. They're more fun.
Arcana: I'm glad you've enjoyed my other stories, and I hope this one proves just as enjoyable. As a fellow reader, I completely understand the lack of good stories. It's frustrating; as a writer, I'm thrilled that my work falls into the category of "really good." *g* How long is too long?