CHAPTETR NINETEEN
The World's Game Board
Having been safely and altogether easily extracted from the gapping pit he had been in, Erestor was now riding Mablung's horse while the younger immortal walked beside the counselor. Erestor looked indignant and rather hurt as he rode back into Rivendell at a walk while Mablung held the horse's reins. The young warrior was constantly looking at his feet, ashamed and afraid to falter further. He hadn't meant anything he had said in a bad way, but from the look of things he couldn't help but decide to leave.
Glancing up at Erestor in a crestfallen way, the Elf quickly diverted his eyes back to his feet, keeping himself as silent as possible. Mablung was even cautious of his breathing, carefully drawing small breaths at a time and monitoring very discreetly how he exhaled. His due precautions were beginning to grate heavily upon his companion's nerves and the other Elf that flanked Erestor's right glared pugnaciously across Elrond's adviser. "You can stop your needless shame and brooding, Mablung," Erestor said quietly. "Most have chosen as you have, and I must admit I can't blame them. But I think we have a job to do here and we can't get through this horror unless we help each other and do our best to insure our survival. Running from danger is no aid to anyone at the moment."
Mablung wanted to protest, truly he did, but when he opened his mouth words came out that not only astonished him, but his companion as well. "I will stay and help as I can." Erestor smiled calmly and knowingly, as he had known what effect his words would have on the young warrior. Perhaps he was manipulative but that was his job, after all, being the head counselor.
"I know," answered Erestor simply as a small grin spread across his face and he looked at Mablung's gapping mouth. The raven-haired counselor chuckled as the other stammered, unable to speak. His face was quickly obtaining a color akin to sunburn and it was gradually spreading up to his eyebrows where it finally stopped but didn't begin to recede. His eyes were wide and coupled with everything else he looked absolutely appalled.
"You knew all along!" he accused, abashed while knowing full well that he should not be the least bit surprised. He stared up and then his expression finally gave way to narrowed eyes and knitted brows as he cast what could very easily be called a malicious glare at his lord. "My lord, you are very conniving."
"Am I now?" Erestor said with as stern a face as he could force upon his features, which was precious little and a small pulled at his lips until he allowed them to curve up with a grin. "Well I wouldn't say I knew but I did guess." He was about to say more when he suddenly saw the trees were now fully bare around Rivendell. They were fading, dying…he shuddered as he felt his heart bleed. His life seemed to be going to shambles all about him and grimacing, he looked dubiously and sadly at both of the young warriors on either side of him. He didn't understand, or more accurately want to understand, all that was happening.
The snow blew up in the wind, making things dark and dreary, not to mention bleak. Everything was virtually cheerless, even the birds were gone and he had no idea if the stars would ever shine here again. If he had felt more depressed at any time in his life he could not remember it, and he had a long memory. It nearly matched Lord Elrond's.
"Being home never felt worse," he muttered under his breath, causing the two warriors to exchange sorrowful looks from across him before they looked straight ahead at the homes and buildings that had once been so full of life and beauty. Oh there was still beauty, but it looked cold and prickly, causing their stomachs to sicken.
Erestor had never thought any set of people could suffer so much from the loss of one person. But here it was, an ancient race was getting ready to depart Middle Earth forever. 'These have to be the most unlikely turn of events I have witnessed since the Last Alliance and the Battle of the Dagorlad,' he told himself inwardly with a frown.
Mablung looked up at this lord meekly and then ventured to ask, "do you have any ideas of where to start this entire… restoration process?" he fumbled for the right words. He was slightly afraid of setting Erestor off on one of his famous tirades or pushing him into a calm spell that was enough to make one's blood run cold. But Erestor did nothing but look straight ahead, quietly, staring at seemingly nothing.
"My lord?"
"Yes, yes, I was thinking," he said hastily, looking down at the other Elf quickly. "To answer your question bluntly, I do not have the slightest idea. First I need to see what's what and where things are and others stand."
Mablung gulped inaudibly and didn't try not to look uneasy and distressed, stopping the horse and looking up at the adviser he quickly shook his head despondently before mumbling, "you aren't going to like it."
Erestor turned abruptly on one of his rescuers with an annoyed look slipping its way into his silver eyes. "Your hints are worse than simply experiencing the actual horror. If you can't be exact, please, say absolutely nothing!"
As the three came into Rivendell, none ran to greet them. Erestor frowned grimly as he saw the looks on the Elves' pale faces. They were white with shock and confusion. Erestor knew he was a counselor -the counselor, but at the moment he was not sure if he would know exactly how to counsel anyone. He didn't know if the words would come out correctly and he was afraid of looking like an idiot or of saying something better kept in the dark. Vilya was certainly not something to be spoken of if it could be helped and definitely not something to be talked about lightly.
Looking at the tall and graceful buildings and designs that graced them, he was sharply reminded of better times. The adviser dismounted solemnly and Mablung gasped with a rapidly paling face, "my lord, your ankle!" He reached a hand out and grasped Erestor's upper arm preventively to keep the counselor from falling flat on his face.
Erestor winced and mumbled grumpily under his breath, "forgot about that." He immediately took the pressure off the injured limb and shook his head in annoyance. The world wavered about him for a moment and Mablung's companion looked at him incredulously.
"My lord?"
"I am fine," Erestor lied gruffly, not even glancing at the warriors. His eyes were transfixed on what remained of his home.
"Pardon me," the other Elf answered, "but you are not. You cannot walk."
Erestor glared indignantly and stared Mablung down until the young warrior let go of his arm and then he took an awkward and probably unwise step forward. His leg ached and a sharp pain raced up clear to his hip. Erestor bit his lip to prevent a small cry of pain from slipping past. From now on he would make a point to avoid falling into deep, wet, dangerous holes. Well, he amended promptly, more of a point than he had before.
Mablung cast his companion a skeptical smile. "Two minutes, Arminas."
The other Elf gave him a bewildered look.
Mablung rolled his eyes. "Two minutes until he falls."
Arminas nodded in new understanding. 'More like one,' he thought to himself, eyeing his lord as Erestor hobbled forward lamely. Dismounting his horse, he strode to standby his friend as they observed Erestor's meager and slow progress.
As it turned out, both Elves were wrong and it took a matter of a few seconds for the dark-haired adviser to stumbled and fall to his knees, his bad leg sliding beneath him. Arminas and Mablung exchanged amused but alarmed glances before leaving their horses and rushing to their liege's aid. But they could not hide the smiles doggedly pulling their mouth's corners upwards.
"If you say 'I told you so' once, I will kill you -slowly -I promise, "Erestor grumbled out threateningly. His eyes rolled grimly and he snorted softly. He would try to stand but he certainly didn't need the humiliation of falling again, so he settled for sitting on the ground with his injured leg folded beneath him whilst giving the warriors withering and expecting glares. At least the young Elves could make themselves useful other than gapping at him like love struck fish!
Mablung moved for him first and held his hand down for his lord. "We would never say such an atrocious thing, my lord. You insult us." He smiled as Erestor's face glowed faintly with amusement at his lie.
"I won't say anything," muttered the counselor as he was eased shakily back onto his feet and supported as he stood.
"You wound us, my lord," replied Arminas dryly, mock hurt flickering across his face.
Erestor nodded numbly, now putting his concentration back on the problems at hand. Leaning as little as possible on Mablung, he gazed at the remains of the heart of Rivendell. He could see Elves wondering amid the rubble, helping to fix and recover things. His heart bleed when he saw the cloaks they wore, travelling cloaks. He could tell they were preparing to depart. His face was blank and so Arminas and Mablung couldn't tell what he was rightfully thinking.
O0O0O0O0O
"Ranger," Damrod told Aragorn as they headed down a flight of old and creaky wooden stairs. "I lied to your companion but it is time for you to know the truth. I am not taking you scouting with me. But it is far too dangerous to keep you both together. I know a place where you can hide, where you can rest. If the city is occupied you will be hard put to remain hidden but it is the best we can do in a few hours."
Aragorn stared blankly at the other man before he spoke. His face was contorted in terror for Legolas and pain at being separated from his closest and only friend in this deplorable place. "You cannot be serious! If you say you lied to him then how can I know you are not lying to me? How do I know this isn't a trap-"
"Ranger, let me make this clear. I am far from in league with Dorrag. Imply as much again and I will personally kill you, putting you out of their grasp forever. I am being generous keeping you alive. The only one we really need alive is Lindir, but you both must be separated because while one of you is out of Dorrag's reach and he believes you to be alive or knows for certain you are alive, then he will doubt everything and will not strike unless he must. Meaning he will not execute your friend until you are taken care of first." Damrod paused for a breath and said slowly, "we will do our best to protect him and keep him safe (more for our sake than his), but if he causes trouble, we don't have a problem with putting him in his place."
Aragorn felt the color drain from his face and realized quickly that this was actually worse to some degree than the imprisonment they had been placed in earlier. None of these people cared a bit for their lives. They were simply pieces in a cruel and wicked game of power, greed and for freedom. He knew from past stories and experiences that these things seldom had a happy ending. "How safe is he…for now?" Aragorn questioned dubiously as he looked directly into Damrod's unblinking eyes with a look of anxiousness.
"He is relatively safe, until the city is occupied, but do not put it past Mytra to get him into a safe place," he admitted, seeming to know that Aragorn would not rest if he thought his friend was in instant and mortal danger that would call for his aid. He grabbed Aragorn's arm and began pull the ranger after him as they reached the bottom floor.
Aragorn was barely able to keep up in his state and he stumbled down the last few steps drearily. 'Interesting,' he commented mentally. 'Stairs always seem to appear when they are the least convenient.' With an inward sigh, the man stumbled on after the Harad man leading him. He normally would be in finding out exactly what was going on but he was more than a bit weary and he didn't have the luxury of choice at the moment.
The last thing he needed was for these people to think that it wasn't worth the trouble of keeping he or Legolas alive. He was certain that once Legolas had enough time to brood and think things over and get thoroughly angered with himself and everything in general that he would do a good job of wearing out their welcome in and of himself. 'Legolas does possess quite a temper when the occasion calls for it.' He frowned and then amended his statement. 'No, even if it doesn't call for it.'
Damrod placed a hand out, hitting Aragorn gently across the chest to stop him from further forward movements. Quickly he hissed, "wait here. Stay low and against the wall so that none that look through the window may see you. The less they know of your presence the better." Giving Aragorn a stern and incredulous look he asked forwardly, "can you do that?"
Aragorn would have glared, but he was torn between laughing at this man's incredibly dumb question and scowling from the insult of it. The result was a hard and emotionless expression that Damrod obviously took for agreement and he left Aragorn's side, quickly closing the space between himself and a large trunk in the opposite corner. The ranger stayed where he had been advised but his impassive face turned to one of curiosity. His eyes narrowed and his brows came together in the lower center of his forehead.
Damrod yanked testily out of the trunk a spare cloak, a tunic and an older knife. Tossing the clothes at Aragorn he commanded curtly, "put these on." Aragorn complied slowly, not feeling like arguing and actually rather grateful for the clothing. It served to make him feel less vulnerable and exposed. He nearly wrinkled his nose though as he thought the supple material smelled sort of musty. But he had to admit that they were a reasonably good fit, all things considered. His thoughts were taken from his 'new' wardrobe as Damrod approached him again.
Taking the knife, he handed that also to Aragorn slowly, and rather hesitantly. He didn't strictly agree with giving this stranger who was fighting his country a knife, but he could not protect Aragorn at every given moment and he was more than convinced that Aragorn could protect himself. "This may be of service to you."
Aragorn took the blade and looked closely at it and then questioningly at Damrod. "Why are you giving this to me?" This was hardly something he would have expected and Aragorn would be lying if he said he didn't suspect a trap behind it. He knew as well as anyone that Damrod was far from stupid and far from arrogant. His eyes turned hard and cold as he asked again, "why?"
"You may need protection and I have a feeling you are more than capable of it. I cannot be with you all the time and I can spare no one. I will simply have to trust you." He looked darkly out of the window, nudging the burlap cloth curtain out of the way grimly and barely enough to see what was transpiring outside. His expression was so bleak it put a simple grey stone to shame.
Aragorn frowned and looked grimly at Damrod before sighing heavily. "What about the women and children?" His silver eyes connected with Damrod's dark ones and Mytra's voice spoke clearly and succinctly from another room as she came out, her son trailing at her heels.
"They have been through it before. We shall be fine," the woman informed Aragorn tensely, her eyes catching fire. Aragorn could have sworn he had distinctly heard the initial spark start the blaze in them." Many women here are trained in the sword, if it comes down to the final thread we will fight." She swirled her head behind her and down, smiling at her son. "Yes, we will fight for our lives and the lives of others."
Damrod spoke his mind in front of Aragorn, not troubling who heard him. "But Dorrag's troupes will raze this city to the ground! Our only chance in survival is to get out of dodge!" he pointed out sharply. Shaking his head in alarm and anxiety, the man of Harad said to Aragorn, "I will have a convoy arranged to take Lindir further from the city into the desert. When Dorrag's troupes near the city, you shall come later in a separate convoy. We have to keep Dorrag guessing as to your whereabouts."
Aragorn opened his mouth to argue but he couldn't quite think of anything to say. But Legolas would never cooperate. They didn't understand! "He will never leave willingly," the dark-haired ranger finally managed out in a gasp. He knew Legolas would never submit himself to their mercy or their decisions. Legolas was going to get himself hurt…
Damrod gave a sad smile that was more than assuring and made Aragorn shudder, reminding him of Darcíl almost immediately. Though that wasn't surprising considering they were twins. "We have ways of making people very subservient and rather compliant." He continued to gaze out of the window. Aragorn looked at Mytra and saw her face was grave and her eyes were emotionless. She knew what Damrod was talking about all to well it seemed from her expression the ranger was glad he didn't.
In sickening dread and dismay, Aragorn looked at the other man with wide eyes conveying well his perturbation for his friend. "What are you going to do to him?" he asked angrily, feeling his temper beginning to flare. He now was fully beginning to understand that pieces of a game were due homage. It took real patience to allow yourself to be used and abused and never again would he lob a chess piece across the room at Elladan's head. He didn't appreciate what was going on in the least and what he hated most was all the dissimulation that was developing about him, especially considering not only his life but Legolas' was being played with like they were no more than carved wooden pawns; a part of the world's vast and cruel game board.
"Nothing that will harm him, I can assure you. We may be forced to drug him or bind him, but he won't be hurt unless he lashes out," Damrod tried to rationalize with Aragorn but he might have well said they were going to sacrifice Legolas to Sauron on an alter.
The ranger turned on the man attempting to reason with him and gripped his tunic tightly and shook Damrod as he spoke just to make a point. "He is not just some worthless pawn you are playing with! He is my friend and I want him brought out of this alive! He will comply if you are reasonable! But just because he is an Elf doesn't make him an animal for you to use until it no longer fits your purpose!" The dangerous and nearly possessed light that took Aragorn's eyes by storm reminded Damrod easily of tempestuous and turbulent clouds on an icy day when a hailstorm was expected. Ironically enough, another storm approaching outside announced its presence with a roll of thunder that shook the house.
"Get your hands off me ranger or lose them!" snapped Damrod angrily as he thrust his arms out, propelling Aragorn maliciously backwards. Aragorn stumbled a few steps back more than he normally would have, due to his wounds and then stopped himself whilst giving Damrod the most withering glare he knew how to give, which was completely antagonistic in appearance. "Is it not enough to you that he is alive?" Damrod growled at the ranger bitterly.
"He will cooperate, as long as he knows I am safe and you treat him like a human-being!" Aragorn snarled back combatively. But actually, he knew that Legolas would most likely still be about as easy for them to control as a bull seeing red from all the corners of his eyes. He felt his fury building up as he thought of leaving Legolas alone with these people! He didn't trust them as far as he could shoot them with a cross bow and right now he wished that he had one of those, because there were a few people he wouldn't mind putting a bolt in their foot. Smiling mentally at the amusing thought of seeing Damrod hopping around on one foot, the man somehow managed to keep his outward expression unfriendly and unamused.
Mytra frowned as she vigilantly watched the heated exchange between her brother and this ranger. She had no feeling for Elves or rangers in the least. She absolutely hated them and their kind and she knew that if they hadn't needed to keep this Elf and ranger as valuable pieces Damrod would have been more than happy to slit that Elf's throat. She wouldn't mind putting a bolt into his chest as well.
Damrod snapped, "he will be treated as best as he allows!"
There as a silence in which no one even seemed to breathe. Aragorn felt it weighing on him heavily and looked nervously from Damrod to Mytra and then to the little boy. Well, if he was going to be caught up in this conflict of which he wanted no part but apparently had no choice he figured he had better know a bit more about it. It was only fair, not that he expected these people to understand that, but it was better to go ahead and try to learn a bit more about these frustrating and confusing circumstances.
"What exactly are you fighting for?" he asked, not being able to develop a more tactful way to ask the same question. He felt sort of stupid asking it so bluntly but under these conditions it wasn't entirely his fault. "I mean," he added after Damrod and Mytra gave him the worst identical long-suffering look he had seen in living memory. "I understand perfectly well going against someone like Dorrag." He had resisted using choice words to describe the lunatic of a ruler. "But what exactly is your purpose after defeating him?"
Damrod looked amused as compared to Mytra, who looked impassive. "You cannot possibly understand, Gondorian, so I advise you not to waste your time-"
Aragorn broke in hastily. "Is it wasting my time to know more about a resistance movement that I am forced to be a part of?" His eyes narrowed and his mouth's corners turned down into an aggravated frown as his stubborn tendencies decided to present themselves once more. He was not going to be satisfied until he got some answers. 'And you had better prepare yourself,' the logical portion of his mind advised. 'Because that may take awhile.'
"Ranger, I am not sure this is stuff you need to be knowing. If you are captured I don't want you to know anything they can force out of you," Damrod answered hesitantly. He eyed Aragorn suspiciously as though he thought he might be a spy. Finally he decided that it didn't really matter too much what the ranger knew and didn't know. "Look, here is what is going on, we work in units, causing distractions and killing those who interfere. But those distractions-"
"Are exactly what you say, distractions, forcing Dorrag to turn a blind eye to your real plan," the ranger finished. "Crafty."
"We must be, or we die," Damrod said, looking at his sister. He frowned. "But as for the real plan, we haven't been able to carry it out." Here he sighed wearily. "There have been and are many complications."
Aragorn raised a brow incredulously. "Like what?" He had a general idea that involved pillaging troupes, torrential rains and weekly executions, but he didn't know too much beyond that. He fixed Damrod with a glazed-eyed stare that he had found to get on other people's nerves in the past. After all, he wasn't trying to make friends, he was trying to survive and he felt the things he was not being told were crucial.
Damrod tensed as he felt fury slowly building up inside. "Dorrag sends his pillaging troupes over to plunder our towns…"
'Ah, just as I thought,' Aragorn took in the information silently while he turned it all over in his head.
"Dorrag has it in his head that we can work all summer to grow crops and then it is his right to come and send his troupes to pillage our stores and leave us with nothing. It simply comes down to the fact that we can't keep our supplies up. As a matter of fact, the troupes are overdue, a result of you and that Elf." The man frowned suddenly and his black eyes turned a shade darker. "However that brings us to the second complication, both of you.
Dorrag obviously wants you both and he is not stupid. To publicly execute that Elf would give him extreme advantage. " Here Aragorn grimaced, unable to think of his best friend being put to death. "But you see, since he cannot find you that gives us an advantage."
"But it also puts us at a disadvantage," Mytra pointed out to the ranger as he looked at her. Her face was grim as she spoke. "He will be looking for you, and especially for Lindir. When he does his troupes will not be very merciful."
Damrod looked indifferent and sedated as he spoke again. "We would kill you both. There are many places to hide a body or two. But he wants you dead and so if he wants you dead, then we want to both to remain alive. And if we can use either of you to our advantage even more, we will."
"What is this master plan of yours, then?" Aragorn inquired, sensing a burning fury now gathering strength as he realized they really didn't care a bit about Legolas ' life or his own. This wasn't surprising and he already understood they were simply pieces to a dangerous game but now he was beginning to realize that aside from being dangerous the game was getting complicated.
Damrod looked annoyed thoroughly that Aragorn would ask such a question. But that was to be expected, they were part of this conflict now. At least it proved they were not complete idiots. "We were going to gather an army. Its main place is Mysol."
"I thought you said Dorrag wouldn't look for trouble in Mysol?" Aragorn questioned thoughtfully, eyes darting suspiciously from Damrod to Mytra and back to Damrod once more.
"He won't," Damrod answered simply. "Mysol has never shown any signs of trouble before and so he has no reason to. An army could safely he built there without very much suspicion falling on it. The few soldiers of his majesty who go there never return and Dorrag assumes the desert has claimed them." The knowledge of what fate really befell the soldiers went without saying.
Aragorn nodded, realizing that some of the roughest desert country was between Astroggen and Mysol. It wouldn't be uncommon for a traveling caravan to perish or men to die by themselves…"And this is where you are going to send my friend?" he asked bitterly. He was truly learning to hate this place.
"To the desert? Of course. He will be as safe as anywhere, trust me-"
"Why should I?" Aragorn glared. As far as he was concerned Damrod had presented no reasonable argument to earn his trust. He ignored the way that Damrod's eyes flared with the insult he was just thrown.
"You have no other choice!"
"You would start a civil war!" the ranger accused darkly. His voice was rising, though he hardly realized it.
"Because I have no other choice!"
It was then Mytra stepped between both of them, her lips creating a discreet and thin white line of evident anger. Her eyes were lit with the fire of frustration. "Silence please or people will hear you! And none of us want that!" She sighed heavily and split her rampageous scowl between the two men, perhaps glaring a bit more at Aragorn than her brother. "Have we not wasted enough time? You," she snapped aggressively, pointing at Aragorn. "You don't need to know anymore! It is none of your business! We have precious little time without trying to explain everything anyway!"
Her points were not lost on either Aragorn or Damrod, but especially not on Damrod. He nodded and resumed his look outside the window. "Indeed." He frowned and pushed Aragorn over slightly, ignoring the ranger's feeble protests. 'I should have kept my mouth shut,' he punished himself mentally. Aragorn rolled his eyes and sighed dejectedly before snorting disdainfully but softly.
Glancing out the window again he obviously noted something of importance and in their favor. A tense smile spread across his face and he turned towards Aragorn. "We are leaving now."
Aragorn went forward and suddenly stopped abruptly due to a sharp pain in his chest. Glancing down in shock, he saw the red bandage that he supposed had been white at some point. But he then remembered, stunned, that this was the wound he had first received, the javelin wound, Ah, he had forgotten about it, or rather, dismissed it, because his entire body hurt without relent and so this wound was just one of many. 'Great' he mused sarcastically, eyeing the wound darkly, 'Another one.'
O0O
'Belligerent'. That was the most perfect word Legolas could come up with at the moment to describe himself right now (and he had looked at a lot of words), though 'malicious' would also be entirely appropriate and held a second place. He was absolutely furious. Standing by the meager excuse for a window, covered with burlap nailed haphazardly across the window frame, the Elf glared. He wasn't glaring at anything in particular, just glaring for the sake of glaring. He could hear their voices downstairs, just below him but that only assisted to spike his anger up higher. It was already far from being a healthy anger, he decided grimly, standing and beginning to pace the room.
It was small, Legolas noticed with annoyance and everything was covered with a thick but fine dust. For the love of Elbereth! He could see his footprints in the dust on the floor behind him! He could literally feel the dust clinging to him and turning his hair to look blonde-ish silver. In the corners there were cobwebs and he scowled. 'It is my guess this room hasn't been used in quite some time,' Legolas mused thoughtfully in his head. Shaking it in aggravation, the Elf continued his pacing, following the perimeter of the room very well.
Stopping at a corner, the Elf looked back to where the window was and allowed his scowl to darken. Narrowing his blue eyes, the immortal closed the space between him and the small rectangular window. Taking his hand, his pulled at the burlap, disturbing a spider, which promptly scuttled out and scampered across Legolas' hand, causing the prince to jerk back and flick the creature off. Shuddering at the reminder of the tiny menace's larger and wicked relatives, Legolas resumed his tugging on the burlap shielding the window.
There was a sharp and loud sound as the material tore and dust exploded from its ripped edges, blowing and drifting into Legolas' face. He turned his head aside, waiting for the tiny pieces of debris to settle. Blinking the stuff out of his eyes, Legolas gave one final tug on the poor cloth and found himself staring down about sixty feet. Frowning as he observed the people below, he had known they had gone up stairs but he truly hadn't imagined it was this high up off the ground.
There was no true sunshine at the moment and as a matter of fact, when there was a change of wind rain blew against the prince's pale face. Impassively staring at the small town below, Legolas inclined his head to the side warily as he heard the door to the home he was being held in open. The wind cut into his small prison and whipped his golden hair back behind his shoulders.
Two figures came out, both were cloaked but his Elven eyes easily separated and identified them. One was most certainly Damrod; he was slightly shorter than Aragorn and walked in a manner of a soldier. The other was definitely Estel, because he stumbled and followed wearily behind and he was the only one who seemed to understand how to hide his face in a hood. Frowning, Legolas forced himself not to lean out further for a better and more informative look.
Anger boiled up, seething in his eyes as he felt his blood run scalding hot for a moment and the entire world was blurred in bright red colors. He couldn't believe Aragorn was not permitted to rest and it made him even more furious to be kept away from his friend at a time when they needed each other most. Once more than words 'belligerent' and 'malicious' popped into his mind but this time they refused to leave. Of course he could vaguely understand Damrod's reasoning and so perhaps he was angrier at the situation they were in than he was at the man.
Looking about the dusty room dejectedly, the Elf reasoned that this place wasn't so bad. He wasn't being tortured and it was completely dry. That in itself was a miracle considering the roof was thatched. 'Give it another few minutes and you will hate the place,' Legolas mused to himself. 'Just you wait and see.'
A few minutes passed, more or less quickly all things taken into consideration.
"Very well," he amended out loud. "Try ten minutes." He scowled and sat on an old wooden box to wait out the time, not having much else to do. But he felt himself beginning to twitch with irritation and boredom. His adrenaline was rushing through his veins as he feared for Estel and he simply could not sit still. Pacing was an overused technique but it just might serve him well here.
Getting up, Legolas began to pace around the room, but just for the sake of change and being different, the Elf paced from one corner and across the room to another corner, going diagonally. His footfalls were light, typical of his race, so he had no worries about anyone hearing him down below. And even if they did he didn't truly care but it was a bonus if they simply didn't. Frowning, he stopped his pacing and looked at the window one more. It was small and he was certain that his shoulders would barely fit through it. Anyway, he would have a long fall and after his former time in Dorrag's ungracious and most unaccommodating dungeons he didn't exactly feel up to par for the experience.
He unexpectedly had a suspicious feeling that spiked up in his mind that the walls were closing in on him. Too much time spent in this small space already, that was his conclusion. He had never truly considered himself to be altogether claustrophobic. The Black Box had been an exception because it was dark and full of knives, two things he naturally didn't find to be very enjoyable or comfortable. The fact that it had been as close as close got also did not do anything to help him find comfort in tiny spaces.
Shaking off the feeling of being suffocated by the dusty little room, Legolas turned his mind to more important matters, like escape, for instance. "Sweet Eru, this place is creepy!" he breathed to himself as he stared out of the window and at the busy market streets below. People were still selling and working through the rain and mud. He supposed it must be what they would consider to be a 'normal' life and the rain was just a season they must endure. A buzzing to his right caused the Elf to wince as he recognized the sound of an obnoxious and unnecessary misquote come to drive him insane. He might have guessed a place like this would be full of the irritating creatures during the rainy season. Oh yes, this totally figured. "Wonderful. Disease will spread like a wildfire," he grumbled under his breath with a disdainful snort. "It is so typical Estel and I would find this place that is not even slightly amusing."
Great Eru! Estel! If there were diseases to be caught he was certain that knowing Aragorn's luck the ranger would find the most deadly of them all. He was in no condition to battle such an illness due to his fatigue! Legolas felt panic rising in his heart, feeding the fire that he felt consuming his insides. He was not going to be a piece for these people to use and play with him in whatever way they wanted! And he wasn't going to let Aragorn be one either.
He caught himself starting for the open window and then he stopped himself. 'Think before you act, you idiot,' he chided himself with an inward slap. It would be much smarter to wait until dark. But he knew there was a chance that it would be too late by then and that the soldiers would be here. Suddenly, something rising in the wind and twisting, curling and billowing caught his eyes. A dark mass, a black cloud. Ah, it was smoke.
But where was the smoke coming from? Legolas wasn't sure but he knew it was out of sight for the men, even his Elven eyes had slight trouble seeing it. Narrowing the blue orbs so he could get a better look but being careful not to stick his head out the window for people to see him, the Elf noticed a line of men marching. Soldiers? He would bet his life on it, unfortunately that was probably a more literal statement than he was comfortable with. If these were the soldiers coming to occupy this down…Astroggen it was called -then why were they over burning whatever city that might be?
Curious, he didn't recall Damrod mentioning a city existing over that way. Blinking to clear his vision from a raindrop that had found its way into his eye, the Elf took a second look and realized this town lived literally in the shadow of Sygul, their capital. So what were Haradrim soldiers doing leveling a town so near their capital city? He had heard they were insane but even he had given them enough credit that they wouldn't burn their own country. Dorrag was a lunatic, Legolas reminded himself tiredly. He had come to that conclusion a long time ago and this only proved to invigorate his theory.
Now that he got a closer look he noticed the soldiers were heading for Sygul, though Legolas couldn't imagine why. Unless this was the detachment ordered to come and occupy Astroggen and they were first stopping at Sygul for further instruction. A sinking feeling began to develop in his stomach and he knew he had to get he and Aragorn out of here before the city was taken. He knew it was going to be burned to the ground or at least pillaged and scourged for his whereabouts. Legolas didn't know much about what was going on now but he knew he definitely didn't want to fall into their hands again, especially since he didn't imagine Dorrag would appreciate the cleverness behind the escape the way he did.
Feeling his emotions all penned up inside, the Elf looked for something to kick and was truly disappointed when he didn't find anything that he could send sailing across the room without creating a loud crashing noise. But the wall did look like something he could kick to his heart's content. Unfortunately he knew it would create a strange and deep echo. Sighing, he settled for glaring at everything as if it was its entire fault.
Thunder rumbled once more and Legolas counted that as being the fifth rumble he had heard these past few minutes. He felt the entire house he was in shake and he guessed that went all the way down to its foundation. Lightning lit up the sky radiantly and Legolas felt himself placing his hands on his ears as old memories came back. His hearing loss hadn't been so long ago and he hadn't entirely gotten over the hopeless feeling it had brought up inside that had frightened him to no end.
More lightning lit up the sky and Legolas reasoned. He would have liked to think he was reasonably safe, but all things considered he was not. He was up in a tall house on the highest floor and they were in the middle of a desert that was largely deprived of trees. Lightning took the quickest path to the ground and right now houses were the quickest of paths. That didn't leave him with a very comfortable feeling and going over to the far corner of the room he submitted himself to sitting with his knees drawn up to his chin so he could rest his head on them. As much as he hated to admit it, since those horrible nights in the dark dungeons during storms and that horrible incident in the battle that had left him temporarily deaf, Legolas felt anxiety rise in his throat when a storm struck.
He knew it was an irrational fear and had no basis, but he simply could not help it and he wished Aragorn were here to talk to, but all he had was himself. Shivering as he saw the evening coming around the flapping burlap that half covered the tiny window, Legolas once again felt a stab of loneliness and homesickness. If the words 'belligerent' and 'malicious' had described him before, adding 'wretched' to the mix now lengthened the growing list.
Deciding rather abruptly that brooding was doing absolutely nothing for him, Legolas went to the window and gazed out dryly, not expecting to see anything significant. Blinking vapidly, the Elf noticed that he could no longer see the troupes of Dorrag's. Knowing full well that this was probably not a good thing, Legolas used his keen eyesight typical of his race to try and discover where they had gotten to but the guessed they were already within the walls of Sygul. Turning his eyes towards the fire he had seen burning, he saw it was burning low and nearly out, the rain was putting an end to it.
O0O0O0O0O0O
Cortanyar looked at his sword, well more accurately his reflection in the sword. Smiling he sheathed the blade happily before mumbling, "we'll see that Elf and ranger elude me. Darcíl was a fool." Pulling at his new uniform, the man felt strangely proud having taken Darcíl's place and losing that annoying subservient Sarchel. Things were going well so far, actually better than he had ever thought. If this kept up he would be able to control nearly everything in no time at all.
Hearing footsteps he turned around quickly to see Dorrag standing there calmly but with an agitated look in his eyes. From past experience, Cortanyar knew that expression worn by the Haradrim prince hardly meant anything resembling good tidings. He gave a curt bow out of reverence that he didn't entirely feel. Smiling deceptively, the new captain inquired appropriately, "my lord?"
Dorrag frowned and said all too calmly," the troupes are here now. You know what I want done, correct?" He took off his signet ring and fingered it dryly as he spoke to the Haradrim captain. A malicious smile spread across his face as he heard the words he had hoped to hear.
"Kill the ranger, bring back his head and take the Elf alive then break his legs," he said, purposefully not mentioning extracting the immortal's vocal cords. It wasn't that he wouldn't find that enjoyable but he had more important things on his mind at the moment. He wanted to know more about the Elves and an Elf that couldn't speak wasn't exactly going to cause him to benefit in anyway. Maybe after the blonde rat told him all he needed then he would take pleasure in removing those annoying vocal cords. It was all he could do to put a certain and abrupt halt to a smile that was tugging tenaciously at the corners of his lips. Annoying things, smiles.
Dorrag nodded but then said, "And don't break his legs. I am having a scaffolding erected in front of the town gates. I want him to be able to walk up it to meet his death." He wanted to see the Elf trembling in terror and his knees shaking before he decapitated him. He didn't fully expect that to happen right away but before that Elf walked the stairs to the platform he would learn to live in terror, if only for a brief time. This was one thing Dorrag had promised would happen.
"What of the village afterwards?" the ex-healer asked with a wicked grin that he forgot to hide or didn't care to prevent it.
Dorrag scowled darkly and with annoyance. He knew far better than to leave these matters to the soldiers. They were impulsive and made rash decisions. Idiots! If he left things to them he wouldn't have a country left! The morons would destroy everything and not think twice. There were some cases when he really would not mind but at the moment he wanted Astroggen in one piece. It made him wish that Darcíl had not turned traitor. However, he wanted to the town to suffer greatly if they had aided the escapees. "Burn their crops and pillage their stores! Let them starve for their treason!" he commanded gruffly to Cortanyar.
"Do not those who turn traitor deserve to die a traitor's death?" Cortanyar asked submissively while seeking his lord's approval. His eyes flashed and a blood lust came creeping into the dark and shallow depths. He closed his hands nervously and clenched them as Dorrag gave him the coldest look he had ever seen on anyone.
"You will find out if you disobey me, captain," warned Dorrag, becoming easily angered and annoyed with the questions. "I do want a country left when you are finished."
"You know, my lord, to get the Elf I my have to take…extreme measures. Things that may be… destructive," Cortanyar said, looking his liege carefully in the eye to calibrate his reaction. "I may have to use some methods that might be considered disputable..." his voice trailed off quietly.
"Captain, do what you believe is necessary but I want that town standing in the end! Am I understood or do I need to speak planer?" Dorrag asked testily. He was not about to let himself be manipulated by his new captain. Cortanyar was ambitious but he would keep him under perfect control and if he had to he would eliminate him. Cortanyar wasn't necessary to him to achieve his goals and the sooner he knew that the sooner he would cooperate.
"Very well, my lord." Cortanyar knew better than to argue and he asked calmly, "am I free to go?" He stood perfectly erect, his hands to his sides. His face seemed submissive but inside he was wondering where the perfect place would be to skewer the prince with a javelin.
"Indeed, captain," Dorrag allowed cautiously, his eyes watching the ex-healer's every move with verbatim. "But one more thing. Send part of your detachment to Mysol. Occupy it."
"Yes, my lord."
O0O0O0O0O0O
Darcíl opened his eyes and the first thing he realized was that everything was coated in grey and black. "Ash", he commented impassively, blinking the stuff away form his eyes and swirling them to look about him. He noticed the smoldering building and the charred fences immediately. Everything was like a gutted back skeleton and it made him shiver. It sent shivers down his spine. Rising very slowly as he came to the realization that every muscle in his body ached, the man coughed as he inhaled some more smoke.
His throat felt burned and like fire was eating the lining of his chest away. Everything seemed hazy and there was no light, he could hardly see anything that was even directly in front of him. It must be night. A slight glow from the embers of the house frame still quietly and frugally burning.
Breathing coming heavily now in labored gasps, Darcíl stumbled forward and then began to run towards what was left of the town. He couldn't see much else but the ground at his feet was white with what looked like snow but was purely white ash from the great burning of the village.
Everything was like a nightmare and he couldn't escape it anyway he turned. It was all entirely too real and unable to be altered. But he just could not believe that his family was dead and gone. A pain started in his chest as he stumbled along and it seemed to spread through every fiber of his being, shattering him like glass. Never in his life had he truly experienced a broken heart and now he knew what the legendary pain felt like. It coursed through him with an unmatched fervor and it felt like his heart had been taken out and stomped on, fracturing into too many pieces to count and put back together.
Tripping over a charred and practically invisible piece of fence, the man fell to his knees where the town should have been. But all he found around him was the skeletal structures of houses, incinerated and exposed for the world to see. They were empty and nothing was left. He heard no voices and everything was eerily quiet save for in a few places a pop could be heard as the flames still continued in small handfuls, eating more wood to satisfy their relentless lust.
Grabbing a handful of hot white ash he let it sift through his fingers and tears pricked under his eyelids. His wife and children were gone…forever. He had burned many villages in his time and all in the name of Dorrag but for the first time he was getting a taste of what he had all too often dealt out. Banging his fist on the ground in his anguish not caring about the tiny pebbles that lacerated it, the ex-captain condemned himself and his actions mercilessly. "You were an idiot to think your family alone would escape! Now you are paying for it!"
Suddenly his tirade stopped and he looked blankly at the ground with dead eyes, unbelieving. Closing the dark orbs, he vowed he would reopen them and discover this all was a bad dream, a horrible and wicked dream that would dissipate as soon as his eyelids parted. But when they finally did separate his view of the world was the same and the rain that poured down, putting out the fires almost instantly clumped the ash.
He felt the rain but didn't move, he just hung his head helplessly and watched his hands holding the now grey ash that was wet and in clumps. Rubbing it between his fingers, he held all that was left of his life and his family. He couldn't believe that his had actually transpired. If someone had told him that an oliphaunt had been dancing and drinking strong beer he would have believed that more than he would this.
Lightning flashed, setting everything against a purple-white background for a few minutes and illuminating the destruction that looked worse than horrific.
Then one thought filled his mind. 'Someone will pay for this!' He didn't know how he would do it but he would kill Dorrag, he would kill him. 'Decapitation might not be a bad start' he mused mentally. 'And after that a spear through his black heart might be an improvement as well.' Truly, Dorrag was one of those people who were greatly improved by death.
It was now completely evident that hiding and wishing things were different wasn't going to do anyone any good anymore, as a matter of fact it never had. The Haradrim captain had enough good sense left to know that if he didn't take a stand then he was one more person aiding Dorrag in his cruelty and wanton destruction. And that was something, he decided emphatically, that he would never do. He would rather go down fighting him with all he possessed than by being hunted and killed like a criminal. Indeed, Darcíl would much rather die as a warrior.
Well, he remembered with a wry smile, his entire family wasn't dead. Damrod was still alive with Mytra somewhere and as far as he knew his nephew was alive. He knew that after Mytra's husband was killed that out of custom, Damrod, being the good brother, had taken her and her son in. Feeling very detached his thoughts suddenly drifted back to that Elf and ranger and he wondered absentmindedly if they were still alive.
Reason stated that they were still alive or at least not captured. If they were recaptured he would know by now. That Elf would be walking a scaffolding and everyone in the kingdom would know. Not only that, his brother would be dead. Damrod was a rebel rouser and if no one else other than that blonde Elf, Dorrag wanted Damrod's head. Oh, he didn't know Damrod except for his name or Dorrag would have killed him a long time ago, of that Darcíl was sure. Being a twin did have its downsides.
He would have to start trying to get to Astroggen where he knew his brother lived along with most other rebels. But he didn't know why he referred to them as rebels when he himself could easily be considered the same. A more accurate description of them would be 'comrades in arms'. Having killed the horse by breaking its wind and most likely its neck, he had no idea how he was going to get to Astroggen in any good time. Wanting to get up but unable to draw himself from this place that had once been his hometown the man just remained on his knees, feeling the rain to beat on his back rhythmically.
O0O0O0O
'Ah, and here we are at the Old Ford,' Elrond took due note of their surroundings. He turned to his sons, who were glaring at the choppy looking cold waters. It looked anything but calm to them and they looked as though they expected it to fill with snakes and rise to strangle them. "Here we must say farewell to Lord Glorfindel, I believe." His gaze drifted to look at his friend expectantly.
Glorfindel grimaced and looked uneasy. "I am not sure that this is a good idea, my friend," he whispered to Elrond nervously. He wanted to go and see what was transpiring in Lothlorien but not at the cost of leaving his lord and his lord's sons in danger by themselves. He would rather stick by their sides and anyway, he wasn't overly thrilled about having to put up with Haldir. He considered himself a gentle Elf by most means but when Haldir was around he was more obnoxious than Lord Erestor was.
"Glorfindel," Elrond placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "We are within a day's ride to Mirkwood at the least, two days at most," he assured the golden-haired Elf calmly. "There isn't all that much that could possibly go wrong."
"Lord Elrond, you know as well as do I that Dol Guldur has grown impossible and unpredictable…downright bold and dangerous!" Glorfindel attempted to reason with his friend. "I would hate to leave you with one less person if an orc horde should descend upon you. And there are the giant spiders-"
"And you over react!" Elrond concluded grimly. "Would I send you away if I thought I needed you? Truly needed you?" The dark-haired Elf narrowed his dark grey eyes to look into Glorfindel's blue one's which were softened with grave concern and alarm.
Elladan and Elrohir held their tongues for the moment, watching their father and Glorfindel's exchange.
"I am going to help you across the ford in any case and my mind is firmly made in that regard," he said strongly, narrowing own eyes now and unconsciously hardening them into blue determined stones. His lips formed a thin line as he pressed them together. "Do not tell me that you and our sons will not need help crossing the river. It has grown both deeper and swifter."
Elrond looked at the waters that were looking anything but calm and cooperative. Funny, it used to be so shallow and tranquil here, as far as he remembered. But Mirkwood and her borders were always changing and so he knew he shouldn't be entirely surprised. He chuckled softly to himself when he thought of Legolas crossing this ford every few months to come on a visit to Rivendell. Legolas…that Elf-prince was one of the most tenacious creatures he had ever had the strange fortune of meeting. "It has but I am sure we can manage-"
"Lord Elrond-" Glorfindel started to protest. Elrond held his hand up for silence.
"I know, your mind is made up," the Lord of Rivendell finished with a sigh that sounded anything but happy. Indeed, right now he was far from a happy Elf. His heart was still heavy and though the fresh air and stars had done him good he could feel himself losing Vilya. He didn't like to think about what Imladris looked like right now and he didn't like to think of Erestor having to handle it by himself now either. The poor counselor was probably having fits.
Looking at Glorfindel with a raised brow he asked incredulously, "and how are you going to help? You would be in the same position we are in." His doubt was insultingly evident.
"I will find a way…" his voice trailed off, as he thought hard to think of a way he would truly be of service.
"Go to Lorien, Glorfindel," Elrond advised, staring into his friend's eyes. "I will be well and so will the twins, I promise mellon nin."
Glorfindel sighed and turned Asfaloth towards Lorien reluctantly. Facing the direction of the Golden Wood, the Balrog-Slayer muttered, "this is probably a mistake on my part." He looked ahead and his Elven eyes saw the Gladden River in the Southern distance.
"I do not think so," Elrond spoke sagely, watching his friend's back. "We all do what we have to do, Glorfindel, and those actions are what justifies the ends."
Glorfindel looked West, into the setting sun and asked softly, "so you mean to cross the ford right now, at dusk?" He looked over his shoulder anxiously. Something just didn't feel right. He felt he was going to be sorely needed some time soon but he couldn't tell why or when exactly. That part was cloudy to him covered in an ominous and inescapable mist that he cursed.
"I do," Elrond answered quietly. "Everything will be fine in the end." He looked back at his sons, who were watching impassively and for once, quietly. His grey eyes were perfectly calm. "Galadriel may have tiding we need to hear, each day you are later in getting their you lessen our chances of using her knowledge to our benefit and the benefit of those we have lost."
Glorfindel nodded. 'You know he is right, but you still can't stand yourself for leaving, you mixed up idiot,' he chided himself harshly. He spun Asfaloth around so he could face his friend. The wind whipped the Elves' long hair around and against the night sky to the south, Glorfindel's silhouette looked tall and powerful. "Very well, but be careful, all of you."
Elrohir snorted softly and Elladan smiled innocently before voicing, "are we not always?"
Glorfindel cast the twins a withering and long-suffering expression before declaring, "we could host that debate here for the next millennia at least!"
The retort from Elrohir was so typical it that those sort of things didn't even grate on Glorfindel's nerves anymore. "Yes, but Legolas might not be too happy about that." And Glorfindel had to admit that honestly, Legolas would be far from a happy or amused Elf. Indeed, he would be far form happy himself.
Elrond smiled and rode his horse along side Glorfindel's, clasping hands with his friend. "Namárie and take care!" He looked into the blue eyes that smiled softly back at him. "Tell Arwen I love her."
"I will, my friend. My Elbereth shine her stars on your path," Glorfindel spoke his farewell softly. He gave one last nod before spurring Asfaloth in the direction of the Gladden River and towards Lothlorien. The animal obediently went into a smooth canter that left Elrond and the twins far behind in seconds.
Elrond watched his friend leave dispiritedly before he turned back to his sons. 'Now how to get them across the ford in one piece', he mused thoughtfully to himself. 'This is going to be a challenge. It is bad enough at the ford of Bruinen.'
Elladan already had his horse at the edge was preparing to convince the animal the water was not going to attack it. But that was going to be a hard thing to do, considering he wasn't sure that it wasn't looking to devour a few Elves and a random horse. It looked icy and devious, two characteristics he decided immediately that he didn't like water to have As a matter of fact, he would rather water didn't have characteristics at all.
Elrohir glanced at Elladan with a long-suffering expression before he asked in a low voice, "brother, what is on your mind?"
"The water at the moment. It looks devious, Elrohir." Elladan's eyed bored into it, as they tried to see into its depths. "I think the horses will have to swim it," he commented out loud. "And we will be lucky if we don't have to swim it as well."
"How is water devious, Elladan?" asked Elrohir, amused and slightly confused with his brother's prospective. "But I agree, it looks deep and rough." He stared into it morosely; not liking the idea of having to cross it at all but knowing there was no other option. They must have done it at least two dozen times before but somehow now it was different and he didn't know how. That disturbed him and he looked back at Elladan.
"Do you sense something not quite…right?" he asked quietly but with alarm in his voice. His eyes then looked across the shore to where Elrond was looking intently. "Ada?" he asked softly, moving his horse to his father's side and following the elder Elf's eyes.
"This would be the perfect spot for orcs," Elrond said bluntly as he watched the opposite shore. "They could waylay travelers now that the Elves have other troubles and cannot keep the ford."
"And Legolas and I are going to have a long talk about that, believe me," Elladan voiced from where he sat on his horse, still along the water's edge. The creature he rode looked far form pleased with everything that was transpiring and looked nervously across the river.
"And what good will that do?" Elrond asked with an incredulous air. "The Wood-Elves have their troubles, as do we." He sighed mentally. There were orcs somewhere out there, he just knew it. This was just the sort of night they would pick too, dark and moonless. It was not totally night yet but he didn't feel entirely safe venturing across the ford now that it was this dark and the orcs had no sunlight to fear. "Hopefully the river will separate us for the night," he said wistfully, turning his horse away from it and wandering more inland.
Elladan and Elrohir exchanged looks and then decided to follow their father's example. They were anxious to get to Legolas and hear news from him about Estel, but they weren't suicidal. An attack by orcs in the dark could spell 'disaster' with a capital 'D' and they all three knew it. But it hurt that they were so close and yet so far. It truly did and there was nothing they could do about it.
It was enough to make their stomachs sick. A weight was on their shoulders and though it was invisible to others it was more than apparent to them. They could tell from the way their father hung his shoulders, that he was feeling the burden as well and that hurt them a little deeper.
TBC…Well, not much of an evil cliffie. Sadly, we don't foresee another cruel one for another chapter.
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