Hi. Would you believe I died? *looks at disbelieving faces* No? That I was hit by a curse and was unable to move for several days until I was found and the curse reversed by Remus Lupin? *shifts as she hears a snort* Well, how about I was going to jump a dirt bike and nearly had my head taken off by a power line across my jump path which snapped and caused a small explosion at the generator? *grins widely*
All right, all right; nothing earth shattering has kept me from updating. That last--*points at the last excuse*--I did not make up. It just didn't happen to me. I cant remember what I was watching, but I got it from that. You couldn't see the power line until he was flipped and the bike went flying. *fights back laughter* That shouldn't be funny, but it is. *snorts* Oh let's see. The reason I have not updated in going on a week and half is that I suddenly could not make myself sit down at my computer and read my chapter. This is bad as I have also not made any progress on any of the other chapters. *sigh* I've come across a rather disturbing realization: I'm no longer interested in my story. *gasp* I now have the rather strong impulse to write Harry Potter. *winces* I haven't gotten very far, nor have I spent all that much time on it (the prologue is all that's finished and even that might need to be tinkered with) and just happens to be one of two ideas that struck me within an hour of each other--within half an hour of each other dealing with that magical realm. *g*
The good news is I think I know where my apathy arises from: burn out. I need to lengthen my attention span. Lol. Round about end of November-December, I was writing nearly a chapter a day. Wonderful, really, but it sapped all my creative juices. I hate it when I really want to, feel like, writing, but my mind spins and won't do anything. It's really odd. Anyway, hopefully, it's been corrected with my extended, unintended, absence. I'm getting really bad about this. See what happens when you tell me to post at my leisure! I procrastinate! Ugh.
Hm, I'm going to apologize in advance for this rather pointless chapter, as well as the last one. Well, nearly pointless. It has a point, it just doesn't serve to exactly advance the plot. I think it's interesting, which I hope will make up for the fact that it's more a filler (time passer) than anything else. *blinks* Actually, it's necessary from my detail oriented perspective, it's just the story that could stand on its own that's unnecessary. . . . I'm going to shut my mouth now. Sleep depravation doesn't do good things for one's mind--and I can't even blame school or studying, because I wasn't doing either when I was up late. That was just my own thoughtless stupidity fueled by obsession (I was reading a Harry Potter story--I finally found one I like!) which led to little sleep and has made me too tired to actually go to all the trouble of posting. Consequently, the reason it's now Tuesday and you're only now getting the new chapter. *pauses thoughtfully* I should have the next one out Friday or Saturday. So good! Quicker!
This has gotten rather long. I'll think I'll be going. Thank you so so much for reviewing. Feel free to chide as well as ramble. I can't decide if I should be pleased or disappointed that I haven't been threatened with pet Balrogs or anything of the like yet. . . *looks thoughtful* No, wait, I had a death threat on my Aragorn/Arwen story. *eyes widen at the realization that she still has to write the sequel to that* Em, I think I'll be going now. Please review. Please, pleasse, please, please! *g* Responses are at the bottom. That still works well.
Chapter 8
Back and forth, to and fro, over and over and over the gentle rocking motion lulled him into a dazed half-awareness full of contented peace. The soft and sharp lap of water against the side of the boat, steady and rythmic served as a comforting backdrop to ease away his sorrows and his pain. The sun was a steady light overhead that suffused the darkness behind his eyelids with a pleasant orangish glow. These were the days that were gone too quickly.
A cool breeze ghosted over his skin, delightfully cool against his warm flesh. He could just stay here forever, lost in the serenity as the boat rocked again and again, the small waves moving it every so slightly, just enough that he was not still, and he could almost say he was floating. Just floating. This was how it was supposed to be.
No cares demanded his attention. No swords flashed in bright sunlight. No blood flowed from wounds that dug too deep. No cliffs to fall from. No brothers or friends to worry about. No one to keep out of trouble. Just floating.
He could float well, the light waves splashing against the carved wood, occassionally changing patterns and hitting the side harder. He smiled, a wistful curve of his lips that radiated peace, that would not have looked out of place on a baby in the sweetest dream. Here, in this place, there was nothing to fear.
Then the boat tipped.
Elrohir jerked sharply, instinctively moving to try and catch himself, moving his hand to put it out as was the habit of all, expecting to splash into the chill water of a clear lake. Expectations, though, are the threshhold to disappointment.
The dark-haired elf's hand caught, pulling painfully as his shoulders constricted, the appendage held firmly behind his back, and he realized he was not lying in a boat in the lake at Rivendell, but was instead sitting astride Talme, his horse, behind his brother, blindfolded, and that he was falling.
A sharp yank from the rope tied to his right arm, pulled him back the other way, halting his slid, and wringing a startled gasp of pain from his lips. He had not expected that, for all that that small pain was loads better than the pain that would have resulted if he had fallen from the horse, his hands bound behind him and unable to catch himself, his eyes blinded so he could not see, but it was still an ache he did not need nor want, and his tired mind was still hazy from the pleasant dream that had so abruptly been stolen away, his mind scrambling to reestablish reality in a world of pain. Thus, it was a moment before he realized what had changed.
They were slowing. Not only that, though, there were others around them. He cocked his head to the side, the better to hear what was going on, and listened intently to the added footsteps that thumped against stone around him. Voices intruded, high and low mixing in a confusing tangle that he was not yet up to untangling, especially as they did not seem to be common or elvish. Though, that could be his head simply scrambling the syllables.
A couple of individuals from their group broke away and rode off quickly, the clatter of horses hooves sharp against the low background din of work and talk. He frowned slightly, wondering if this was where they had been going all along, if they had finally arrived and would meet this "master" Conyc had spoken of, if he really wanted to know, and if this could all somehow be a very bad dream that would end if could manage to wake himself up.
He sighed, a light exhalation of air, and dropped his head between his twin's shoulderblades. "El?"
"Hm?"
"You all right?"
There was a moment of silence, in which Elladan seemed to pull himself out of a trance back into full wakefulness, like Elrohir had been startled out of when the horse stumbled, then he spoke, his voice vaguely amused. "I think we need a new question, brother."
Elrohir frowned and shook his head, lost for once as to the processes of his brother's mind.
"Most people ask 'how are you?' as the basic catch all question and get some careless answer that's like as not 'fine,' and doesn't really reflect how they are at all." Elladan paused and took a deep breath, the air wheezing laborously as it struggled to enter his lungs. "Why do you ask when you expect me to say 'fine'?"
"Because I hope that one day you will deign to tell me the truth the first time," Elrohir replied, still smiling at his brother's complaint. "I suppose that's about as likely as Estel actually making it home hale."
Elladan did not reply, and the younger twin returned his attention to their surroundings. Something was happening but he could not tell what. Damn the blindfolds! He wanted to see.
"Don't worry, brother." Elrohir turned his head forward so he would have been looking at the back of Elladan's head. "We'll get out of this. Somehow."
He hoped so. Before he could respond, the movement became more localized, and his attention was thrown out around him. Talme was jerked to a stop, startling both elves, and hands appeared as if from nowhere to grab the elves and yank them unceremoniously from atop the steed. Elrohir stumbled, his base disappearing and reappearing in the blink of an eye, his sense of balance disturbed without his eyes to tell him what was around him.
"Come on, boys," a familiar rough voice said. "Get them settled."
Now if only he had said "gently" Elrohir might have been well. He was pulled to the left, tripping as they changed directions without telling him, pushing and pressing at his bruises. He hissed and heard his brother cry out in pain. Fury surged through him at the rough treatment, rocketing adrenaline through his frame. He pushed blindly at the hands holding him, pulling against the holds on his arms.
Angry curses rang gratifyingly in his ears, followed by increased scrambling. Hands fixed bruisingly on his arms, then a fist buried itself into his stomach. He curled forward as the air left his lungs, forced out with nothing to replace the vacuum left in its place. The elf opened his mouth wide in an effort to pull in oxygen, though it was a moment before his lungs took the hint to help him.
Then he was strightened, a hand tangling tightly in his hair and pulling his head backwards so he would have been looking at the sky. Something hard, cold and sharp was placed against his throat, and his mind provided an answer: knife.
"That was a stupid thing to do, Elf," a cold voice said, this one different from Conyc's. "You wouldn't want us to have to dispose of you after coming so far, yet falling so short."
He pulled against the hands holding him, testing their grip almost unconsciously, and found it quite strong. "Who are you?" he asked, at last, willing his mind to work as fast as he wanted it to.
"None of yours, Elf," he said. "And if you don't want your brother to pay for your crimes, you'll be nice."
He took a deep breath, his lungs finally working the way they were supposed to, though it was somewhat difficult to convince them of the fact the way his head was being held. "And what makes you nice?"
"Cooperation. Take them to their posts," he ordered to the guards around him. The men started leading him away, his hearing telling him Elladan was being pulled along behind him.
Elrohir struggled briefly and called back over his shoulder. "Why are you so afriad to let us see where we are?"
The man laughed. "Oh, we don't mind if you know. In fact, you're on the west side of the White Mountains, but we know how tricky you Elves are. Seeing freedom gives you ideas, ideas we want to protect you from. But don't worry, Master Elf, we'll lead you true."
"Elrohir, saes," Elladan breathed, the plea carrying to his ears. Fear shot through his veins at how strained the plea was, how breathless, how weak, and it was not just because it was quiet. His older brother was always the strong one, the stable center, unwavering, even when his passions got the best of him. Elrohir could always count on him to stand up and protect him from harm, from himself if need be. It scared him that doing so could prove too much for him. He swallowed hard.
The man fell silent a moment, and no mocking comments followed, leading Elrohir to the conclusion that the humans had not heard his brother. In fact, they seemed to be waiting for him to comment. He did not. There was nothing to say; his brother's health was more important.
The man seemed to decide his silence equaled compliance. The ones holding them began leading them again, and Elrohir followed behind them docilely. He tried to keep his steps sure, but rocks kept appearing beneath his feet to trip him up. He never fell, but his arms were beginning to protest the vice-like grips of the men holding him and their persistence in pulling him to his feet at the slightest misstep.
Eventually, they were forced to a sitting position, and their arms pulled. Though he could not see, Elrohir suspected they were securing their arms to some place along the ground. He heard their footsteps fade into the distance, and tested his theory by pulling at his bonds. They held firm and he abandoned any thoughts of them. "Elladan?" he called.
"Here."
"Are. . . ." He cut off the question and swallowed hard, his mind stumbling over the question Elladan had complained about.
A tired chuckle reached his ears, and he heard the slight scraping noise as Elladan shifted closer to him. His voice was near the ground when he spoke. "I wish I could see the stars," he admitted.
Elrohir sighed, and shifted until he laid as close to his brother as he could manage. "I don't think they're out yet."
"I would still like to see them."
"I know." He, too, had missed seeing the stars as they journeyed across the lands with their captors. As a distraction, he had taken to picturing them in his mind, recalling their bright sparkle, their location in the sky. It did his heart good, but they were beginning to fade in his remembrance of them, losing the skarp definition that they held when he saw them in the night sky. "We'll see them again soon."
"Nay, brother," Elladan whispered. "I have a feeling it will be long ere we are free to again watch the stars."
Elrohir's blood ran cold at his brother's words. He turned to face him, lifting his head for a better angle though he could not see past the black cloth that blinded his eyes. At the moment, he would give anything to see Elladan, to know his expression and see his eyes. There was a weight to his words that made Elrohir desperately want to deny him, say they would see the stars in a few hours.
"We're in over our heads, El," Elladan continued in his silence. "I hope Ada realizes we're in trouble, 'cause we won' be gettin' ou' of this on our own."
"Have faith, brother," Elrohir answered, needing to say something to counter his brother's dire words. "Have faith."
Labored breathing drifted to his ears as the elder twin breathed deeply. "I hope you're right."
"I'm always right," he told Elladan with a slight smile, his eyes closed beneath the blindfold, picturing the expression on his brother's face. "I can't believe you don't know that already."
"Nay," was the response. "I only know that you can't shoot."
"I can so."
"Can not."
"Shut up!" The abrupt shout startled both elves, and their jaws snapped shut with a clang, both heads turning towards the sound. Heavy footsteps approached the prone pair and a thump heralded the arrival of something new in their midst. "You will have plenty of time to talk once we arrive at our destination, but until then I suggest silence."
"What do you want with us?" Elrohir asked, recognizing this person as one of the beings from camp, as his accent was different than any of those that had traveled with Conyc. He hoped this one would provide him with more of an answer.
"A little peace and quiet," the man responded. "And if you will not grant it willingly, we will gain it by force."
The younger elf clenched his jaw tightly, holding back the retort that danced on the edge of his tongue. He was not so worried about what they would do to him, and would gladly take a beating if it gained him some answers, but with their luck, the worst would fall upon Elladan and he knew his twin could not take more hurt; his ribs already troubled him greatly. As much as he wanted to, he could say nothing.
The silence aparently satisfied the man, for he turned away without another word and disappeared back the way he had come. Elrohir frowned. "I do not appreciate how they keep managing to come upon us so quietly," he complained.
"Mayhap you are simply not paying close enough attention," Elladan answered.
"Did you hear his appraoch?"
The elder twin sighed. "No."
"What is going on?" Elrohir asked of no one in particular, not expecting a response, but more than willing to accept one if it was offered. He truly despised being left in the dark.
"Sleep, El," Elladan bid. "We will be riding again soon enough. I suspect we will need all the strength we can muster before this is over."
"I don't know if I could sleep," he replied, already trying to relax, and his body telling him that was not such a hard task to accomplish, even here, as it pulled him down towards darkness and bliss in ignorance. He murmured sleepilly, "I want answers."
"We will get them," answered Elladan confidently. "Soon."
Elrohir looked up at him reflexively, then laid back down when he was again thwarted by the blindfold and closed his eyes, falling asleep faster than he would have imagined possible.
*~*~*~*~*
The fire crackled happily, and the stew that hung over it was nearly done. The sun settled over the tops of the mountains that were a hint of presence in the distance, and the temperatures once again began to drop. Under a darkening sky, Legolas moved quietly, unwilling to prematurely wake his sleeping friend, and checked the human's clothes which he had set out to dry earlier in the day. He frowned upon finding them still quite damp, but there was nothing he could do. He resettled them, then moved to stoke the fire. Movement caught his eye and he glanced at Aragorn to find silver eyes watching him tiredly.
"Smells good," the human mumbled around a yawn.
The elf smiled. "How do you feel?"
"Better." Aragorn sat up and pulled the cloaks tighter around him convulsively. He scooted closer, watching as his friend stirred the contents of the pot. "If it weren't so cold, I could almost imagine I was back home."
Legolas frowned. "Your back is scratched, you have a head wound that looks like you decided to wrestle with a rock and did not duck in time, and you are sleeping in the cold on the ground wrapped in nothing but cloaks. How could this be like home?"
"Do you really want to know?" the man asked with a grin.
The blonde opened his mouth, not exactly sure how he planned to answer that, and froze, his mind retreating back to what he had said and the human's response, then his mouth closed. He stared at Aragorn with a confused and disbelieving look that suggested he thought the human insane. "Do I want to know," he repeated blankly.
Aragorn's grin widened. "Do you want to know?"
He closed his eyes and dropped his head to his chest, his mind telling him he did not, his heart telling him it had to be good, and he knew that in this instance his heart would win. "What did they do?" he finally asked, guessing correctly that this story included the twins.
The young ranger laughed and scooted yet to the fire, his eyes gazing off into the distance. "I had just turned sixteen, and the weather was beautiful. Spring covered the land with flowers of every color and the nights were comfortable. Elladan and Elrohir always become decidedly . . . mischievious about that time and I have never been able to determine exactly why, but I was enjoying my ever growing freedom, the expansion of my responsibilities and their more inclusive trust. They had begun taking me on hunting trips with my sixteenth year, and had begun teasing that I was nearly a man."
The human smiled, thinking of how long it had taken for the twins to truly accept such a thought. Even now, they still prefered to think of him as a child, his nearly thirty years little more than the blink of an eye to elves, but such an event had been far enough away in their minds that it did not hover closely in their thoughts and they could joke about it freely. Aragorn chuckled softly.
"I was exceedingly pleased that they thought I was nearly grown, for I had always been their little brother, slow at everything, and viewed such an achievement as the realization of all my dreams. The days passed slowly as we exploited the weather after so long confined in doors due to inclement weather. That, and they had had to look after me. My reactions to their pronouncements slowly crystalized into an idea for them, a game, and they thought up a way to exploit my eagerness.
"They told me about a ritual. . . ."
~*~
Bright silver eyes stared up at them eagerly, a desire to prove shining in their depths, and Elrohir exchanged an triumphant smile with his twin. "It's a coming of age ritual," Elladan revealed. "Every youth undergoes it when they are ready, and it signifies their eligibility for the elevation to adulthood."
"Really? You and 'Ro did it?"
"Of course," Elrohir answered. "It is a necessary step on the way to maturity. But it is most difficult. It requires skill and determination. Not just anyone can accomplish it or it would not be a true test of ability."
"I am ready," the teenage boy insisted. "What must I do?"
The twins exchanced another amused glance. Sometimes, this was just too easy. "You must spend the night in the woods, alone. You can take no provisions and no weapons and you must survive for three days. You can have no contact with the outside world, and if you are to truly excel, you must do it with but one article of clothing." The elf cocked his head. "Well, one article aside from your undergarment," he amended.
Scarlet rushed into the youth's cheeks, but he did not glance away. "But what should I choose?"
"That is up to you."
"I should do it tonight?"
"It is up to you. But you must be ready, for failure is not accepted lightly."
Estel nodded seriously. "I will not fail." Then he rushed off, eager to prepare for his ritual and just as eager to accoplish it, to prove to the elves around him that he was not a child that always needed to be looked after. He was nearly a man, nearly grown to adulthood. They did not have to worry about him.
Elladan watched him leave with a slight frown. "Three days is not too long, is it?"
"Even were he to not catch a thing to eat, he could not starve in three days."
The elder nodded distractedly. "And no weapons? What about Orcs?"
Elrohir shook his head. "No Orcs would stray so near Rivendell."
Elladan finally looked at his brother, amusement replacing his brief moment of concern. "What one article of clothing do you think he will select?"
Laughter bubbled up from the younger twin, and a smile split his lips as he shook his head. "I have not a clue, dear brother. But knowing Estel, it will be memorable."
~*~
"You fell for that?" Legolas demanded as he watched his friend.
The human smiled, apparently not embarrassed by the memory, though Legolas knew he would have been. "Oh, it gets better," the man assured him. "And Elladan and Elrohir got in trouble."
The elf shook his head wearily, and removed the stew from the fire to let it cool. "Which article of clothing did you choose?"
"A cloak," the ranger answered, and Legolas looked up, startled. "The pass was not my first experience with cold weather, and I yet remembered the chill, or rather, my father's lecture and the cold that I suffered through after it."
That made a certain amount of sense, thinking about it that way. A child who had been bitten by the cold would likely think to choose an item he associated with guarding against the cold, and Legolas found that he could not decide, were he put in a similar situation, what he would choose.
But it was also funny. The idea of Aragorn, the usually serious occassionally irreverant young man that sat by his side, running around the forests of Rivendell in naught but his undergarment and cloak was a priceless imagine indeed, and his was hardpressed not to laugh. His lips twitched convulsively in the light of the fire.
The human smiled at him. "It was funny. Admittedly, I found it funnier than my brothers did once it was over and for different reasons, but it was still funny."
"What happened?"
"Little enough at first, but you know me. I never have managed to do anything halfway."
~*~
The sun rose sluggishly in the sky, and Estel watched its progress with weary eyes, shivering slightly in the chill morning air, the dew still fresh about him. It had been two days, and they had progressed slowly and without incident. While good, he also had not managed to catch a single thing. He supposed he could complete the three-day requirement without hunting any food and only return hungry, but he would really prefer to have caught something himself. After all, it proved nothing he starved himself to the completion of the test.
Of course, the declaration to catch something before his test was completed was a bit easier said than accomplished. Currenlty he walked the lands of Rivendell, protected elven realm, but he knew the hunters usually left these lands when they set out to replace the stores for winter and he was unlikely to find any game he could catch while he was yet so near his home. Besides, would not it really prove his skill if he left the protected lands?
Yes, that was best. He could prove his skill by surviving with little far from home and cement that proof by catching an animal to eat for lunch, or dinner, before returning to his family. That decided, he stood and began moving stealthily through the trees, practicing the techniques his brother's had taught him on their journies together. One day, he would be able to sneak up on the elven brothers and they would not know he was there until it was too late. Then he would pay them back for their tricks with a few of his own.
His pace was quick as he set off on his journey, determined to accomplish his task and prove his worth before the next morning, when he could return, his test complete. Never before had he traveled so far, and his legs ached when he finally passed the borders into the lands northwest of his home. The trees thinned here and he could easily see that the sun was now westering. It would be diffficult to achieve his aim before nightfall and make the journey back, and he was quite tired and shaky. His hands trembled lightly and a headache throbbed at the just behind his skull, having developed sometime during his trek. It probably had something with him not eating, as he seemed to remember his father saying something about low blood-sugar causing headaches, and that was why he needed to always remember to eat. Well, this time he had not forgotten, there was just nothing to eat.
Copying movements he had seen his brothers do when they were hunting, he crouched in the ground and searched the floor, well aware of what he was looking for but not entirely sure how to find it, or comprehend what it was he found once he did. Still, he kept searching, duck-walking across the ground as he searched, pushing grass and leaves aside as he looked. The ground was soft, and his boots sank into it where he stepped, rain having come not long before and soaked the ground, making it more pliable. Thus it was that he found a set of odd footprints, odd to him, for he had never seen their like before. They were larger than any elf's print he had ever seen, and not so curved as his own, the front nearly the same size as the back, and both quite wide.
The youth cocked his head to the side and stood, still watching the ground, his eyes fixed intently on the print. Hesitantly, he stepped forward and placed his own foot over the mark, trying to match it as best he could, and was more than just a little awed when his foot was dwarfed, the indention occupying far more space than his own fairly large shoe. His sharp eyes traced the tracks ahead of him from where he stood, and saw that they headed off to the east, towards the Misty Mountains. While he had never planned on heading that way, he decided that he was definitely not going that way even to save his life. Whatever had made those prints were not something he wanted to meet unarmed. Estel started walking the other way.
His quiet steps squished softly across the ground as silver eyes studied the earth before him, searching for animal prints that might tell him a suitable creature to hunt was near. After nearly thiry minutes of searching thus, however, he looked up. There had to be a better way to go about this than merely hunting in the dark. How did the others do it?
He swallowed and looked back down at the tracks, thinking how thirsty he was. It had been a wihle since he had last had anything to drink. . . . Slowly, a smile spread over his face. Water, that was the answer. He needed to find a pond, lake or river with clean water. Animals would go there because they get thirsty, too.
Quite pleased with himself, Estel looked around, not quite sure how to go about locating said drinking hole. Saying he wanted to find it was all well and good, but how did one go about actually doing it. HIs lower lips found its way between his teeth as he looked around, nibbling on it absently as his eyes wandered. This was definitely harder than it looked. Maybe he was not ready. But failure was not an option, so he took the first idea he came up with, and moved to climb one of the nearby trees.
Intent eyes scanned the boughs, looking for a way up. Now was one of those times when he desperately wanted to be an elf and find tree-climbing an absurdly easy endeavor instead of the slightly scary, daunting, delicate task that required all of his attention and far more time that could reasonably be required of something that was always so easy for his friends. (That said friends were elves failed to make an impression in his mind, except to say that he was not and would always be slower, clumsier.) He was not to be dissuaded, though, and gamely lept, his small and mostly uncalloused hands grabbing onto the branch above his head. He grinned at having correctly guessed the height, and eagerly swung his legs up to latch around the branch he clung to.
Once he got his legs up, he was left with the perplexing problem of how to right himself upon the tree limb. There were no branches nearby that he could use to pull himself up with and nothing for him to grab onto. Frowning slightly, he shifted, turning carefully, so that his head faced the trunk before manuevering so that he was quite near it. That accomplished, he made sure his feet were wrapped quite securely about the limb, and dared removed his hands to press upon the trunk, using the bark as the handholds he did not have, and painstakingly moving himself higher until he was nearer the top of the branch. After much scrabbling and more than a few heart-stopping close calls, Estel was successfully perched upon the branch.
Shakily, he stood and began moving higher so he could see further. HIs courage failed him before he could go as high as his brothers, the way the limbs trembled beneath his weight matching the quailing of his heart until he decided he could go no further, that he was quite high enough, thank you very much. He glanced down and found about twenty feet sepearating him from solid earth, and quickly returned his attention to about him, fiercly scolding himself to attend to his purpose. He needed to find that pool, and fast, or he would have to go home and tell his Ada that while he had succeeding in surviving three days, he would not have managed a greater number and that he was not ready. That was something he did not want to do.
A smile once again split his lips, then, when the objct of his search flashed briefly in the light from the sun. A triumphant whoop passed his lips, followed by an undignified squeak as his balance was momentarily compromised by his enthusiasm. He clung to the tree until he steadied, then more camly considered how he was to get down. That was one of those bad things about trees: they were always easier to ascend than descend.
Carefully, and clinging closely to the branches in his path, he attempted to duplicate the path he had taken when coming up, finding reversing the climb abohorently more difficult than he had thought the original effort had entailed. He was forced to start and stop a couple times when one of the branches below him kept disappearing every time he had to reach blinding back to try and find it. But eventually, it decided to stay where it was supposed to be, and he continued down. A dozen feet from the ground, he paused to rest, the effort of holding his weight tiring his arms. It was quite beautiful up here, and if it had to take so long to undo what he had laboriously done, why not enjoy the beauty of his perch?
It was then that mother nature decided to show him he was wrong: no matter how difficult or easy he considered it to get up, it was always a hundred times easier to get down. A howl to his left made him jump, momentarily forgetting his was in a tree. His fott slipped and he tipped backwards. His arms flailed out, but missed the branch and he watched in horror as the limbs receeded from his eyes. He felt a scream gathering in his chest, buthis throat was too tight to grant it passage.
He hit the ground with a hard thud, the air escaping his lungs with a harsh whoosh, as his chest contracted without his consent and refused to expand again for agonizingly long seconds during which he floundered. His head sturck the ground and lights, blindingly bright, flashed before his eyes. Pain sparked up his elbow and radiated from his tailbone, but every last one disappeared after a few minutes of stillness. Estel dared not move even after the pain faded, lest it prove a joke on their part and the pain would return the moment he dared to return to any semblance of normal activity. It had happened before.
Eventually, his desire to move overcame his reluctance towards pain, and he rolled onto his side carefully, trying to give his body enough time to get used to moving again in the hopes that it would not protest as it was wont to do. HIs head throbbed as he changed position, and the world swam out of focus before reluctantly returning, and his elbow twinged painfullly. His lungs did not seem to want to let him breath correctly, either, but aside from that he did not feel the worse for wear, and he knew where he had to go now. His sense of accomplishment helping to erase whatever aches and pains he now sported, the youth pushed himself to a vertical position and began walking.
~*~
Aragorn paused his story with a smile as Legolas handed him a bowl of stew with a small shake of his head. "Strider, I think you would do well to stay away from anything that gives you room to fall."
The man laughed. "I would love to, mellon nin," he replied. "But fate seems to not want to let me, else it would let me avoid them as I want to."
The elf prince smiled and swallowed a spoonful of stew, his eyes thoughtful. "Why do I get the feeling falling from that tree was the least of your concerns?"
"Because you are always right?" asked Aragorn with a raised eyebrow.
Legolas smirked. "That must be it." He took another bite and watched his friend do the same. "But truly, you do not expect me to believe you fell twelve feet and accrued no injuries."
"I did not say I was not injured," protested the ranger. "I merely said I did not feel any pain."
"Uh huh. Well, eat your stew. Then I must insist you continue."
Aragorn laughed, but obediently did as he was told, enjoying the warmth of the stew as it settled in his stomach, the heat chasing away the last of the chill that had lingered inside him.
Legolas watched the river, the silence returning the pinched concern to his face that the man had observed when he first awoke but which had been banished upon seeing his friend awake. He blinked at the elf, struggling to read the look behind those shuttered blue eyes. Failing, he decided to ask. "What troubles you, my friend?"
Blue eyes blinked, and the elf looked at him, startled. "Why do you ask?"
Stalling, Aragorn thought. You only stall when it is something you fear I will react badly to. That, of course, concerned the human, but he did not let it show. "Your thoughts are distant and sad, and do not even try to say you are imagining all the trouble I could have run into in my youth after a rather graceless tumble from a tree. It is something else or you would not be so loath to share it."
Legolas sighed. "You are right. It deals with your brothers, Aragorn. We do not know where they are, and now we have been swept horribly off course, days away from our intended destination. There is nowhere to cross this far south, and back-tracking will add days to our travel. There is also no place between hear and our original destination where we can obtain supplies, and we can not continue on to the havens so underprovisioned. The closest town of any significance that I can think of for us to travel to would be Bree, unless you know of one closer we might stop at."
Aragorn frowned, then stood to gain a better look around. They had entered Minhiriath past the Sarn Ford and were likely little more than a hundred miles from the sea. It had been long since any elves had claimed these lands, and Aragorn knew well there was no help to be had this far south for at least a hundred miles in any direction. Bitter indeed was the fate that swept him so far off course when his brothers might be in need of aid.
Slowly, he shook his head. "I know not how we should go. Mayhap such a decision will be clearer in the morning, as we can go nowhere tonight." Silver eyes caught blue and the elf nodded.
"Aye, we can go nowhere just now."
Idly, Aragorn finished off the rest of his stew, his eyes turned towards the river and away from the fire that brightened the gathering dusk. The last of the light was just sinking towards the horizon, and it was with a heavy heart that he admitted to himself, not just to Legolas, that they could not travel further this night. He was in no shape to go anywhere without more rest, and he knew Ardevui required a breather after having sprinted so far to save his neck from stupidity. He could not ask her to go further, and his eyes sought out the lump not far away that was the elven horse, already fast asleep.
He could only imagine what fate had befallen the twins, and what he could imagine he did not like. It was difficult to remind himself that they still did not know for certain the twins were in any trouble. Aside from my dreams, he amended, but dreams could be simply that: dreams. It was likely they were well and would get a good laugh over the ranger nearly killling himself after having worked himself into a frenzy over their absence.
At least, those were the words he repeated in the depths of his mind, the assurances his heart would not heed. If he managed to be honest with himself, he did not think they would find the twins well. And if he wanted to be brutally honest, he did not think they would find word of the twins at the havens.
By now, those they had traveled with had likely already crossed the sea to the Undying Lands. Those Halbarad had named had desired to leave Middle-earth quickly, as best the ranger knew. Years had they spent in a last farewell to the lands they had claimed as home, wandering between the elven lands to say their farewells. Nothing would have bound them longer than was necessary to see to their departure. A week or more was plenty of time to see them on their way, and Elladan and Elrohir would have not remained long.
No, if he wished to be truthful with himself, they would learn nothing of his brothers' fates from traveling to the havens, except perhaps to learn that they had left there, too, weeks ago. At least, it would be weeks ago now, for it would take them at least a week to backtrack, gain supplies and continue to the havens. Ardevui would not be able to travel as fast for as long if she had to also support his weight, and she would need to unless they were to walk until they were able to resupply, and possibly even after that if they could not procure a second horse.
He tried not to feel as if his brothers' lives were slipping away between his fingers like fine sand through his clenched fist. It felt like the harder he tried to find them, the quicker they slipped away. He frowned, then sighed.
"Do not brood so, mellon nin," a quiet voice bid, and the ranger jumped, looking up guiltily at Legolas. "We will find them."
Aragorn nodded, gathering his resolve as he took a deep breath before letting it out with a promise not to quit until he had found them, no matter how long it took. That he would have done the same without the promise was a given, but it felt better, somehow, to make it formal . . . final. "We must," he agreed softly.
A small smile graced the elf prince's lips after a moment of solemn contemplation. Trying to raise his friend's spirits, if Aragorn knew Legolas at all. "Now, how about you tell me what trouble you found after falling from the tree so I do not have to imagine it."
The ranger opened his mouth to comply--
A tremendous crash drowned out whatever sounds might have slipped past his lips, and he jumped, turning towards the trees and struggling to his feet, nearly tripping on the fabric wrapped around him. His hand just barely closed around the hilt of his sword. Legolas stood a few feet before him, poised at the ready. Together, they faced the threatening darkness of the trees.
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Review Responses:
Tychen: Okay, this isn't asap, but it's still here! *g* I'm glad you loved it.
Konjurer: Thank you! *sigh* More evidence of procrastination: while I've finished writing the essays, I have yet to mail them off. Hmm. You know, it's so interesting to have people point out all the things that make my fic good, because I think of none of them when I write it. I don't even realize most of them. Lol. Reality tv, hm? Never thought about it that way. *g*
Grumpy: Ooh, yes, trouble. It's not really ahead, it's more to the side. . . . *g* lol. Yes, down horsie. Lol. Hm, yes, I suppose it would be nice to wipe his face. I think Legolas did that while we weren't watching. *g* Thanks for the prod! You're the reason this is getting posted now. I think I might have put it off again otherwise. *bows gallantly*
NaughtyNat: lol. Turns out you reviewed early. *g* Right. Extended is the only version worth having. I understand completely. I'm like that about so many things (all of them stories, movies) that it's not even funny. I'll have to give the plot bunny thing some thought, see which ones I can bear to give up. If you have any preferences for characters, let me know, kay? Oh, good. Summaries are a pain in the butt. Lol. Well, they got a break here. Sort of. Lol. I never gave the horse spit a moment of thought after I started writing it. Must've been repression. *g* Ooh, hate dog spit. Won't let my dog lick me I hate it so much. I'm surprised he likes me. Very greatly anticipated. *g* I laugh so hard. Sorry you didn't get the post, though. I thought about, almost did it, but I got distracted. *g*
Nerfenderder: Hm, I'm sure he could have, but I just couldn't get you there. So sorry. *g* I bow to your applause. Lol. So what did you think of my little young Aragorn story? *raises eyebrows*
Singing Wolf: Yes, all you really need to do to figure out how it would feel to hit water is do a belly flop and magnifiy it. *g* That hurts so bad. I appreciate your opinion on my Legolas characterization. It's nice to have an outside view. I can't manage it. It's invaluable to me, as is your view on the jokes and teasing. If I haven't included more evidence of respect here (I suddenly can't remember) I will keep it in mind for later. It was an observation that hovered in the back of my mind that I couldn't quite put my feeling on. For all that I write, I have a terrible time putting things like that into words. Oh, that's not rambling! That's helpful. Feel free to do it again. My thanks. *g*