First things first: there's a line spoken by Aragorn somewhere about the 8th page that is not mine. It belongs to Tolkien and is spoken by Aragorn in The Two Towers just outside Fangorn forest. Now, I know my disclaimer back on the first page of the first chapter states that all recognizable stuff is Tolkien's, ect. But I felt, since it's now direct plagarism, that I might as well point it out with specific credit.
While I'm at it, I might as well inform you there's a part spoken somewhere near that (after it, but near it) that simply smacks of Shakespere. In fact, I'm positive parts of it can be found in something he wrote, but I did not intentionally steal. When I wrote this chapter we were reading Othello, and some of the real world melts into the fantasy world when I write. As much as I hate poetry, the cutesy rhyming bits still strike me. Anyway, back to other more normal stuff. *g*
I'd really, really like to get to the point where I don't have to say "I meant to do this, but." Is it getting on your nerves as much as it's getting on mine? Hm. Well, I'm going to say it at least one more time. I meant to post this Thursday, but the idea of Sunday somehow got stuck in my head and wouldn't let go. I was under the Imperious Curse. Swear. Hehe. Oh, what else? Right, I have to inform you that I'm not particularly satisfied with the way this chapter ends, but seeing as I'm already rewritting chapter 11 (which was supposed to be chapter 10 and I simply switched them--they make more sense in this order, I swear) I didn't feel like rewritting it as well.
*frowns slightly while trying to remember what else she wanted to say* I hate it when I have all these ideas and things I want to say, and can't remember them when it comes time to say them. It's like they're scared or something. I hope you all like lots of characters. I realized as I reached the late chapters that what I had originally intended to be a simple story had turned into a monster with a dizzying host of characters. Most of them haven't even been introduced yet. Okay, enough of the pointless conver--monologue. I'll just let you read it and tell me what you think. Kay?
Responses are at the bottom, as per custom. I hope you enjoy and don't forget to review! I live and die by your reviews. Honest. *clasps hands behind back and backs out of the room with a fixed smile on face*
*door closes*
Chapter 10
The wind whistled high in the trees, a lonely keening that spoke of ages past when elves had been found under the boughs of the trees, or even men, and songs and laughter were caught high by such breezes as this one, and then it went still. The momentary lamentation silenced in the face of the rising sun and the start of a new day, the first glow of which Legolas could see through the trees where he sat, braced against one arm on the ground, opposite leg pulled close with his free arm draped over the knee. It was nearly time to wake Aragorn, but he preferred to give the man a little more time to sleep.
The night had passed uneventfully, not so much as a squirrel wandering anywhere near their camp to threaten their solitude, which is not to say a small animal wandering near would have been remiss. The elf would have appreciated less than perfect silence with aught but the wind for company, proof that nature was yet natural. Yes for all that, the trees had whispered no unease, no hint of danger, and the elf prince had been free to wander in his thoughts while Aragorn wandered in his dreams, if dream he did.
As much as he was able to, he directed his musings away from the twins, preferring even to consider the state of the evil that was slowly overtaking his home to the uncertainty of their fate, even as it was that very uncertainty that kept drawing his thoughts and by which he told himself it did no good so that he might turn his thoughts away.
Not that the concerns he turned to were better. When he was not worrying after Elladan and Elrohir, he often turned his musing to Aragorn, except that "musings" made his thoughts sound peaceful, or at least calm. In reality, whenever he recalled how close he had come to losing his friend just hours before, so soon on the heels of the last near-catastrope, that same initial panic that had frozen him to the spot fell over him and he had to fight himself to remain where he was, to sit a few feet away and not check that Aragorn yet breathed, that his pulse beat strong and steady. For a time, he would even succeed. Then the human would stir restlessly in his sleep or shift away from the warmth of his coverings, and concern would have the elf at the ranger's side before he even had the chance to think the action.
In retrospect, it was likely well Aragorn had slept through it all. Legolas could just see the frustrated glares the ranger would send his way for his "mothering" and hear the pointed complaints. If the ranger knew of his actions, he would likely never be able to put the human off again, forever to be reminded of this incident in situations hereafter, and that would never do. Not, Legolas thought, that I have all that much success putting him off now.
A part of him did not want to be put off, he knew, glad of the love the doting showed, while another part--the larger part--objected to the helplessness such implied with heated vehemence. Aragorn was always the first to insist he was not helpless, but Legolas' pride balked at the idea of letting the other do what he was more than capable of doing himself just as surely as the ranger's did. Perhaps even more so.
"Aside from what the servants do, you mean," a voice laughed in his head, the remembered words of his friend surfacing from another time when he had been afraid to lose his friend, though it was not the man's body that was truly in jeopardy. It had been a lighthearted jest in a situation with too little cause for gaiety and had gone a long ways toward reassuring him that his friend remained. It had given him a means to trust, to hope.
A sad smile crossed his lips, then Legolas rose. He moved over by Aragorn and checked that the cloaks were still securely around him, that there were no holes unfriendly air could pass through to dissipate the warmth trapped within. He was halfway through and just pulling the cloak closer to his friend's neck when he realized he was doing it, and froze. But there was nothing wrong with looking after a friend's well-being, was there? And if the situation were reversed (impossible, but what if), then Aragorn would do the same for him, right? Right. For that, there could be no question. With an irritated little shake of his head, he completed the motion and sat back on his heels.
Blue eyes studied the man before him, peaceful now in sleep. Before they could find the twins, they had to decide where to go. To go anywhere, a couple of arrangements needed to be made. That would require a face-off with Aragorn, he was sure, and for that it would be best if he were rested. Stubborn humans, from experience, were less obstinate and more inclined to listen to reason when they were not sleepy. Food, too, improved their dispositions, and Legolas had a suspicion he would need all the help he could get.
On that thought, he moved to prepare breakfast. Something hot would likely not go remiss, so he put water on to boil. Tea would be nice--he had a feeling Aragorn would appreciate actually being awake this time--and he could reheat yesterday's leftover stew. Then he could face the ranger. He went about his task quietly, his expression solemn as he focused on his task with single-minded intensity.
"Who died?" a quiet voice rasped to his left.
Legolas' head came up with a start and he looked to find a pair of alert silver eyes watching him from beneath hooded lids. Surprise combined with his thoughts let irrational anger fill him and he glared, snapping, "It's not funny! Don't do that!" not even sure what he was talking about. Ashamed, he turned away immediately and tried to bury himself in his task. That had been entirely uncalled for, but the young man's words crept too close to his uncomfortable musings. The way things were going--No, he would not think that.
Focusing on stirring the stew in between steeping the tea, he managed to calm his breathing (which had accelerated with his heartbeat) and his emotions. He heard shifting and glanced at Aragorn out of the corner of his eye. The young man was watching him with concern and that was the last thing he wanted. They already had enough concern between the two of them to last a dozen lifetimes, and Legolas was beginning to doubt they would ever be rid of it. He murmured, "I'm sorry."
Aragorn shook his head fractionally, as if denying it would wipe the words away. "What's wrong, Legolas?"
There was a loaded question, and his brows went up. "What isn't wrong?" he countered.
A marginal smile was the answer and the ranger tilted his head, drawing the cloak around his shoulders tight once more. "Start small," he advised.
Legolas sighed and cast about for one of the smaller concerns; he would need to talk about them anyway. "Your clothes are yet damp, and I doubt the dew has helped."
"They'll dry," he dismissed carelessly.
"You'll be cold."
"Only until they dry."
The elf prince could not help but glare at his companion who stared back evenly. "You don't have any shoes."
Aragorn opened his mouth, closed it, tried again. "A minor difficulty."
"You should wear mine."
"Your feet are too small."
"They're flexible."
"Your feet?" the ranger frowned, looking down at the elf's feet with a sparkle in his eyes even as he looked bewildered. "No more so than mine."
"My shoes, human," Legolas growled, inwardly chuckling. How the man had managed to keep a straight face while saying that, he would never know.
"Good for them."
The elf pursed his lips a moment in irritation, then continued, returning to the original thought. "You can wear them."
"They're too small."
"They stretch."
"Not that much!" Aragorn exclaimed.
Legolas looked at the man incredulously. "Your feet are not that much bigger than mine!"
"Oh," Aragorn said. "Okay."
Legolas blinked. For a moment he thought he stood before a child of perhaps five, then the image vanished and he was left with his friend, who watched him with something like expectation in his eyes that prompted him to continue. The problem was that had been a whole lot easier than he had expected it to be, if it was over, and he was wary of accepting such an easy defeat. Aragorn never gave in that easily. For the moment, however, he would leave it be. "We don't know where to go."
"Caivern."
"Caivern?" That was a switch. He had thought the ranger was not sure where to go. Why Caivern?
The ranger nodded. "It's a small town to the west of the South Road on the borders of Rohan, past them really, roughly a hundred miles from the Greyflood, that claims the protection of the Horselords."
"But that must be nearly a hundred leagues from here," Legolas protested, surprised, though it was more than just the distance that bothered him. There was the mention of another river (namely that they would have to pass it), the fact that it was a human town, and the one point of contention that he was willing to make to his human friend: "That takes us far from the Havens."
Aragorn sighed heavily and dropped his head. Legolas opened his mouth, perhaps to apologize, but his friend never gave him the chance. "I know," the man agreed heavily, "but we cannot return to Rivendell as that would take even longer. That, and I'm not sure Ada would let us leave again. And we cannot simply continue on as we are. We are woefully short on supplies and I, at least, need boots." A smile ghosted across his face. "Caivern is the easier town to travel to from here, the terrain--if not friendly is at least not treacherous or hostile. And because it's a Rohirrim town, I'm reasonably sure they won't try to kill us because you're an elf. They remember the aid of the firstborn from the tales of the Battle of Dagorlad in the Last Alliance. We should be well."
"But we could not be," Legolas observed warily, not entirely pleased that Aragorn had seen his concern over approaching a human town. Of course, it could be that he feels the same apprehension, the elf observed fairly. After all, he's been present when things came apart. But that always led to the realization that if the human was concerned, it was because of him. That thought stung his pride almost as much as the original thought, though not as much as if it had been anyone other than Aragorn.
"The possibility is always there."
The elf considered that, then nodded slowly. It was true enough, and he trusted the man's judgment. He looked up into silver eyes curiously. "What changed between last night and this morning?"
Aragorn stared at him helplessly, something in him seeming to crumble, his silver eyes as lost as he had ever seen them, a look that surprised him as the human had seemed so certain about their course. "I do not think we will find what we seek at the Havens," he admitted after a moment, voice soft and pained. "I know we will find no answers on those shores. They are lost. I don't know where to look for them. I don't know." He shook his head hopelessly, tears sparkling in his eyes. "What do we do, Legolas?"
Imploring eyes latched onto him, and Legolas could not move, could not look away. What could they do? The twins were lost--whether in trouble or not, with no way to find them, and both elf and ranger had lost their trail, apparently. The same storm that had washed them down the river had presumably washed away any tracks they may have found. What was left? He had no idea. But looking into the man's eyes, he found he could not say that. His mind raced for something to answer the question that might erase the despair that floated behind his friend's fear. What to do? Perhaps. . . .
"What we can do," he said firmly. "All we can do is what we can."
Legolas watched as the words floated between them and seemed to funnel into the being before him, turned and twisted, examined, and finally seemed to sink in. Slowly, Aragorn nodded.
"Caivern, then?" the elf prince asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Caivern" the ranger confirmed, hopelessness shifting to resolve with the set of his face. His lips pressed together and his eyes darkened. It was a welcome change to Legolas' eyes, but he would prefer happiness--which could only be gained with the twins' safety.
Footsteps from the southeast broke the stillness that had settled between them and both whirled, Legolas bringing his bow to bear as Aragorn scrambled for his sword, on his feet but seconds after the elf prince, a feat which surprised him even as he knew his friend's skill. Both stood ready for whatever would appear. Neither expected what they found.
An old man appeared from behind a stand of trees, shuffling along quietly with his head down, something held lightly in his hands. His steps were small, seeming more a product of habit than anything else, and his clothes were long and brushed across the ground as he walked. Long white hair swayed with his movements, and a scraggly beard mingled with the front parts, making it difficult to tell one from the other. Elf and ranger exchanged a confused glance as the man continued, seemingly unaware of their presence.
Aragorn shrugged, seeming to say "we've come this far," then stepped forward slightly, and called, "Father, what can we do for you? Come and be warm by the fire, if you are cold."
The man's head came up, swiveling around towards the sound of his voice, and they saw his eyes, dark brown even as dark as the bark of the trees, yet mixed with cloudy white. Those orbs drifted over the pair yet focused on neither, coming to rest somewhere past Legolas' left shoulder between him and Aragorn. A smile, a thin twist of lips, and he shuffled forward another couple of steps. "Ho, there, young one. Kind, you are, to an old man with aching bones."
"Can we get you anything? Would you like some tea?" Legolas asked.
Aragorn moved forward and helped the man to the fire, before settling him down comfortably beside it. He moved to stand, and found his arm clasped tightly in frail-looking hands, halted before he could move. "You seek something of high value," the man rasped, his head tilted back as if trying to see the human's face.
Aragorn pulled back slowly. "I seek my brothers," he agreed, not removing his gaze from the old man.
The old man nodded sagely. "Tea would be brilliant." His voice rasped as from long use, but the elf fancied it was just as likely from under-use if the beggar lived out here by himself.
Aragorn blinked and looked at Legolas, who shrugged and turned to get a cup of tea before offering it to the old man who was smiling vaguely at the trees, like he was seeing or looking at something only he could see. The elf placed the mug in the old man's hands and made sure his grip was true before letting go.
"Not many pass through this 'ere part. Moved far away, they 'ave, to better cities; abandoned the trees, the grass. . . . And not just the people, neither."
"But people do pass this way?" Aragorn asked, intent. It was curious to see the human so focused on a bit of information that seemed so inconsequential, but then he rarely had dealing with these parts. He supposed there was a reason the ranger found this information to be of value. A little voice he could not understand was whispering in the back of his mind, but he pushed it aside and focused on the old man even as he maintained watch over the surrounding area.
"Aye, people pass," the old man agreed wistfully. "Mostly in spring when life is new and the weather fine. Then, they feel like travelin' and whole families sometimes make their way west and return as the weather changes. Some never return. Fewer pass now that darkness has returned."
"Do they ever pass in the fall or winter?"
"Some. Few; so few. Those come with wagons that clatter over the ground or on horses. No children with them, few women. Metals follows them, swords. Rough voices, they have, very rough. Brutal. Best to stay away from them, yes. Ivan stay away from them."
Legolas moved over to sit beside him. He frowned as his mind caught on the word "Ivan," but thought that might have been his name. What this man said, though, had the potential to be important. "Has anyone passed through recently?"
"Hm. None you want to find, me thinks." He chuckled lightly, ending on a light, nearly airy cough that jerked his shoulders.
"Perhaps," Aragorn answered, frowning slightly in concern.
Some in his voice caught the man's attention for he cocked his head towards the ranger, then old man sat back and looked up into the sky, his white eyes taking in nothing around him, and his hand idly stroked the length of his beard. "Many footsteps, I heard, passing southeast. Steps of horses." He took a sip of tea. "Fifteen, maybe less or more. Difficult to tell when they travel in a close group. Kept real quiet, they did. And quick. Passed near on two weeks ago, they did. Came up maybe two weeks 'fore that. Quick, quick. Then again, they might have been different groups. Came up with a wagon, left without one. Difficult to say."
The man's eyes drifted closed, and a contented smile quirked his lips. The whisper at the back of the elf's mind became clearer and Legolas wondered if Aragorn was, perhaps, thinking the same as him: that maybe they had found the ones they wanted by accident. There was no way to know for sure unless they could ask if there had been elves in the company, yet would an old man who could not see know? He did not think so. It was a slim lead by any reckoning, yet it was a lead. The only one they had so far. He glanced at the ranger, and noticed a gleam in his silver eyes, one that was quite familiar.
"Strange things, one sees, if one knows how to look," the old man mused, drawing their attention back to his wizened features. "Strange and wondrous things. . . ." He looked to Aragorn, nearly managing to catch the ranger's eyes. "Did you take a trip in the water, young one?"
"Aye," the human answered, sounding cautious, but Legolas could see he was thrown by the question.
Ivan held out his hands with the dark cloth clutched loosely in them, the thin appendages trembling slightly. "Strange things," he repeated. "Wondered what happened to the body who claimed this. Yes, I did. Bad time to lose something so important, me thinks."
With a slight frown, the man accepted it from him and held it before his eyes, studying the material with sudden surprise. Folds of the thick fabric were still quite damp, yet there was no mistaking the leather overcoat. Legolas' own eyes widened upon realization. "Thank you, father," Aragorn said. "I had thought this lost."
"Mm," the old man mused. "In the river, yes. Great, powerful force. The strength to give, the power to take away, and no one to tell her how to move or when. It follows its own path, for better or worse. Always makes it where it wants to go. No man can tell 'er 'no.'" He chuckled softly, as if at some inner joke. "By the water you live, and by the water you die, yes?"
"I do not know of what you speak," Aragorn admitted, his eyes pinched together in a mixture of perplexity and concentration.
"You will, young one. You will. Respect the water, and respect is returned. Claim and claim back, give and take. It's a dance, ye'see?"
Legolas watched as his friend puzzled that out, or tried to, and frowned as his own mind tried to fathom what the old man was driving at. As much as elves love riddles, though, he felt the last thing they needed what yet another one to add to the one they had. There were other things that needed to be done, and if the company this man spoke of was indeed what they sought, two weeks was time aplenty for the twins to meet with an awful fate. Aragorn, though, seemed to have forgotten--at least for the moment--his haste. Ivan, however, did not seem inclined to linger anymore than he.
Suddenly, he struggled to his feet. "Younger feet have need of quicker paths while elders ponder age old riddles of days gone by," he said with a groan as he straightened. Legolas was forcibly reminded of the wizard, Gandalf, as he watched. That one, too, spoke in riddles, riddles he already seemed to know the answer to. "Away be the task that calls you yonder." Then he took Aragorn's elbow in his grasp and leaned closer to the ranger, lowering his voice. "But take heed ye of noble deed: fair heart hides foul deed, and foul deed fair heart. Trouble not lightly those you would claim friend, lest friend turn foe."
Aragorn blinked, then the man released him and turned away, leaving the cup in Legolas' hands and muttering, "Fine tea, yes, fine tea," as he walked away. Neither being moved until he was well out of sight, his shuffling footsteps a dim echo to elven ears. That last was a bit much to take in. He stared after the old man, wondering if they should not take his advice and begin with him. Who was this man that wondered alone in a place long abandoned by men?
He frowned, then turned back to his companion. "Odd to find a man so far from any village," he commented, feeling something had to be said yet not convinced he wanted to delve into the man's origins or words.
The ranger startled, then smiled ruefully, the tinniest twitch of lips. "Aye, but there are those who prefer solitude to ceaseless toil among those less grateful or intolerant of simple differences."
"You would know," Legolas teased, smirking.
Aragorn glared at him. "We wander, but solitude is hardly ours."
"Nay, my friend. Speak only for yourself, for it is no wonder you have no solitude when Orcs forever follow your steps." He laughed lightly, his mood lightening without conscious thought with the departure of the strange man.
"Laugh it up, Elf," growled the ranger, a strange sparkle in his eye, "but do not tarry long else we miss what we seek."
Legolas looked up at him with dismay. "Do not start talking like that old man!"
"Then are we to eat, or are we to talk!" Aragorn cried, the man's amusement finally breaking through.
The elf smirked. "You are to do both." When the human only started at him curiously, he reminded, "You have a story to finish."
The man dropped back to the ground, drawing the cloaks about him while scooting closer to the fire. "I had forgotten."
Quickly, Legolas pulled out two light bowls and dipped out the stew, handing the first to Aragorn so he could eat while he readied more tea and tended tasks. It was during his second trip to the horse then back to the fire that he caught a suspicious light in his friend's eyes. "What?" he demanded warily.
"Oh, nothing," Aragorn replied, trying for innocent--failing miserably, but trying just the same.
Legolas narrowed his eyes, searching the area around him, but found no cause for the man's suddenly good humor, nor any reason for the fiendish look that he had come to realize never meant anything good. Not about to trust to luck in this instance, he asked again. "What?"
"Nothing!" Exasperation tinged Aragorn's voice, and silver eyes rolled. "Sit down, Legolas. You're hovering like a mother hen."
The ball dropped. Everything went still, and Legolas looked at the man with new eyes, eyes that saw quite clearly. That nearly maniac sparkle hovered in the silver eyes, intensified with the reference to the "mother hen." Horrible realization swamped the elf, and he continued forward slowly before settling down heavily. "How long were you awake?" he asked intently, unconsciously copying the pose the human had held before when the man first mentioned passing people.
Feigned surprise flashed across the man's face, and the patented "who, me?" look affixed itself to the mortal's dashing features. "Why, you know, Legolas," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
He did not believe it for a second. "How long were you pretending to be asleep?"
Lips twitched suspiciously. "Pretending? Honestly, Legolas. I have never been able to feign sleep. Ada always sees right through it."
That did not answer his question at all. He had a feeling he would live to regret this moment, to regret ever taking care of the mortal. It was with a strange mix of giddiness and reticence that he concluded both he and Aragorn would live through this little adventure, and Elladan and Elrohir as well, just so he could be teased mercilessly. Fate loved to torture those in her grasp. He groaned inwardly and narrowed his eyes at his nearly laughing friend, but the mortal was too wise to laugh in his face. He clenched his jaw, then forced a smile and sat next to him.
"Your story," he prompted.
A fair amount of the sadistic light faded, only to be replaced by a different light. "Ah, where was I?"
"The hunting party found the Orcs."
"Nearly done then." The ranger sipped at his stew, draining most of it as he gazed into the fire, likely gathering his thoughts. Then he looked back up. "The hunting party found me, decimated the Orcs, and returned me to Rivendell. Father was furious. At least, that's what I heard from Glorfindel that one time shortly after my eighteenth birthday when I managed to get him drunk. Quite drunk. Elladan and Elrohir may even have considered becoming Orcs, and so escape part of their father's ire.
"He found out, and I do not know precisely how since I cannot imagine them telling him, that the twins were responsible for my little escapade into the wilderness. Had he a knife when he confronted them, they most likely would have been carved and served as the next meal. Of course, I saw none of it, nor did I hear aught of it until many weeks later. I lay peacefully in my bed for nearly a week before the light of day found me, and even that was not truly so, for I first regained the land of the living at night."
~*~
He felt heavy. That, in and of itself, was not so unusual. When he would go tree-climbing with the elves, they went up high into the thin branches that would break under his weight and he was forced to watch them from a safer limb. He felt heavy then, very heavy. This heavy, though, was not that heavy, and he could see no elves to remind him that he was not one of them. So why did he feel heavy? Maybe if he could see.
On that thought, he decided to open his eyes. The darkness did not lift when he tried, and he frowned. Why could he not open his eyes? They were only covered by thin pieces of flesh, but he could not budge them. Maybe they were why he felt so heavy. Perhaps he should move other things. He tried to lift his arms or lift his legs, but he could swear they were encased in stone, something that should never have happened. How had they become encased in stone? The best person to answer that was Ada.
Ada!
Alarm shot through the youth, confusing the lad as he did not know why he should fear his Ada, but the adrenaline propelled him to a sitting position. He was up! For all of a second, then burning fire erupted across his back and his head exploded from the inside out with a blinding flash of light. A pained cry he had no control over escaped his lips and he simply let go, pulling away from the pain . . . and fell.
He did not know how long he fell, but the next he knew he was no longer falling, but floating, the pain gone. He was adrift in comfort and warmth; the horrible pain was gone. After that, he did not want to try again. Suddenly, he felt a cool touch on his head, and it was a comforting touch. It drew him despite his resolution to stay put, and he felt awareness of the outside grow, heard someone sit beside him and felt the warmth of another beside him. Slowly, his eyes crept open.
The smiling face of Lord Elrond appeared before him and the hand on his forehead moved to rest on his arm. "Welcome back, my son. You gave us quite a scare."
"I did?" he questioned, his voice scratched as he tried to talk. His words were barely discernible, even to him, but Ada did not seem to care, though he did get a glass of water that he tipped to the youth's lips.
"What were you thinking, Estel? Leaving Imladris so ill provisioned and without even a dagger to protect yourself." Intent blue eyes stared at him. "Tell me, child. Why did you do it?"
The cup was pulled away and he relaxed. He felt confused and frowned. "Do you not know, Ada?"
"I do not."
"I wanted to prove myself," the boy murmured. "Prove that I am growing up by taking care of myself. Elladan and Elrohir--"
"Are fools," Elrond broke in coldly, startling Estel badly with the anger he heard in those words. "Listen to me, Estel. Your brothers do not always think before they act, for all that they are supposed to be mature. There is no ritual like they told you."
No ritual? He blinked and swallowed against his parched throat. "They lied to me?" He could not tell if he was hurt by this or not, but apparently his father could.
The elf lord sighed and leaned forward, brushing Estel's dark locks back from his face. "To them, it was a grand prank. I do not think they meant any harm." He paused. "I do not think they thought you would abandon the safety of these borders. Regardless, I want you to promise me, Estel." He waited until the child looked at him. "Promise me that you will talk to me before going along with one the twins' schemes. I do not want to lose you so soon, nor over something so trivial."
"I promise, Ada." The elf lord did not think him ready, did not think him able to take care of himself. He had not proven himself as he had hoped.
Elrond smiled, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "All is well, my son. Now rest. It is yet late."
~*~
"And I did," Aragorn continued. "I even adhered to bedrest for three days before insisting I was fine. The next week and a half was spent driving my family crazy."
Legolas laughed, working with Aragorn as they cleaned up the impromptu camp. "What did you do?"
"Why, tried everything I could think of to escape my bed," replied the man carelessly.
"What did they do?"
"To keep me in bed?" the ranger asked with an arched brow. Legolas nodded. "Everything they could. I became quite familiar with Father's special tea."
Legolas choked on his laughter. "He drugged you?" he demanded.
Aragorn nodded. "Him. Elladan, Elrohir. . . ." The man smiled. "Glorfindel, even. Whoever was around when I tried to leave again forced the stuff down my throat."
"Ai," Legolas chuckled. "No wonder you hate being drugged."
The man flashed him a smile, then returned his attention to packing the items Legolas washed. The elf had glared at him and firmly pushed him away when he had attempted to help wash, saying he refused to fish him out of the river again.
"But surely there is more," the elf continued after several moments of silence. "It did not end there?"
"I cannot tell any further. If you desire more information, you might ask the twins," Aragorn said. He paused, thinking, then continued, "Though I do not think they would be willing to tell. More likely you should ask Glorfindel. I would not suggest asking Ada. The memories of Elves are long." By which he meant Elrond had not forgotten what the twins had done. Legolas resisted the urge to laugh.
They both broke the fire, pushing sand over it to snuff out the flames and attached the now repacked bags to the saddle on Ardevui's back. Then Legolas took off his shoes and held them out. Aragorn just looked at them. "What?"
"Put them on."
"They're your shoes, Legolas."
The elf resisted the urge to scream or curse, at least out loud. He had known the human had given up too easily before. "Come on, Aragorn. We can't go anywhere until you cooperate. You need to wear the shoes." He saw the stubborn glint enter the man's eyes and spoke again before he could object. "If you do not, then we will stay here and not move. I will wait until you pass out from lack of food, then I will put them on you anyway and drag you back to Rivendell so Elrond can drug you into submission--and he will. You know he will. Then I will leave without you. You know I will."
Blue eyes glared into silver. Aragorn stared at him, his face blank. He opened his mouth, then thought better of whatever he had been about to say and closed it again. Legolas wished he knew what was going through his friend's mind, if he would have to make good on his threat or not. The ranger would not want to abandon his brothers, and he was banking on that fact, that he would comply to be able to continue on. Truthfully, he did not want to abandon the twins to their fate, either, and would lament the time lost if he had to take the human home ere he could depart. Of course, the thought of Aragorn safe in Rivendell was a tempting one. The silence stretched.
Suddenly, the human slumped. "Oh, all right." He snatched the shoes and stalked over to where his clothes were spread out before the elf could protest.
Legolas bit his tongue as he watched the human don the damp clothing. In this cold weather it was not good for him, but he knew without a doubt it was an argument Aragorn would not allow him to win. To go into the town, Aragorn needed to be dressed, and no matter what the human thought about how the Rohirrim would receive elves, he did not want to enter Caivern alone. He breathed a soft sigh of relief when the ranger did not insist on donning his overcoat but instated wrapped the cloak he had been wearing back around his shoulders. The other, he folded carelessly and held out to his friend.
The elf took it and fastened it about his neck. The sun had eased its way over the treetops and it was time to go. Ardevui stood eagerly at the edge of the forest, looking back at them with knowing eyes. Legolas smiled at her as he approached, then rubbed her neck and swung up on her back. Braced, he held out a hand for Aragorn.
The ranger ignored him and walked around to Ardevui's head. "I'm sorry, dear girl," he whispered in elvish. "I know how much you dislike human riders. We'll get a different ride for me as soon as we reach the town, yes?"
Ardevui whinnied agreeably, and the young man finally took the hand Legolas held out to him, swinging up with a laugh. The elf shook his head. "You have a way with horses, my friend. Good or ill, I cannot say, but it is definitely a way."
Aragorn snorted. Then they were off, racing night across the lands to Caivern.
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Review Responses:
Red Tigress: lol. Those moments of confusion are always nice, aren't they. When I get confused like that, I usually blink at whatever I'm reading like that'll make it make more sense. Lol. They work? *dramatically wipes hand across forehead* What a relief. *g* I think I went a bit overboard with the story-telling though. Hope you're not tired of them yet.
Rangergirl: *grins widely* I know, isn't it great? *looks delighted* lol. Oh, they have a ways to go before they catch up with the twins. So much can happen between there and . . . There. Hm. There's lots to look forward to though. I could almost swear I've been backlogging all the action sequences for--but you can't know for what. Gotta wait for that. Gotta hope I can eventually finish writing it. *makes a face* Hope you're not tired of flashback stories yet.
Grumpy: *blinks* Oh, no, you've already met that person. Hehe. You'll get a name eventually. He should. I wonder why he doesn't? *tries to look innocent* Mm, I thought it was rather impressive myself. *g*
Nerfenherder: lol. I love your response. Details. Details. *mwah* lol. Apparently, I should write some more young Estel fics. They go over rather well. Hm. *g* The twins. Yes, they felt wretched. Horrid. And we'll not go into Elrond just now. He's scary. Hehe. It's really interesting trying to picture how a person injured beyond what I've ever experienced will react to a situation I've never been in, and sometimes really difficult to remember that he's hurt. The sleepy thing was easy though--I was tired when I wrote it! Lol. I'm not the only one who reads other people's reviews? Wow. Hehe. Hm, well, I would say you could look, too, but the opportunity has kinda passed. I'm still having trouble with my muses. They shifted topics without my permission. Luckily, they can usually be persuaded to cooperate in fists and starts, so I should be all right. I hope. *g*
NaightyNat: You weren't late. Though. . . You do have this rather odd habit of being the last to review. *fights a smirk* Oh, bravo! I might stop by to read it if I can drag myself away from HP, doing homework, revising, rewriting, and writing long enough to be interested so I can truly enjoy it. Wow, I sound busy. Lol. Yes you should; baby talk is for Bellatrix and I don't like her. Jamie, Siri, and Remmie would be alive, yep. You're not attached to Lily, though, are you? Don't expect it soon, though. I'm still trying to figure out British terms. *looks bemused* lol. Insanity. Yes, I can see insanity. Might not want to tell Aragorn or Legolas, though. You never know how they'll react. Hehe. Oh, I like the tree joke to. It was a last minute stroke of genius. Then again, my strokes of genius are never planned. . . . *g* Thanks for holding off on the dog. For now, at least. That's the shortest review I've had from you, I think. Mines longer than yours. Hehe. Sorry. Bad, bad, me. Until next post or I can be a good reader (I don't want to read it without being into it cause I won't enjoy it, good or not, that way). *g*