DISCLAIMER:
See chapter six
Series:
None.
Spoilers:
See chapter one
A/N: Please don't kill me for taking this long to update. Kill my muse. I have not abandoned this story, but I just couldn't seem to write in it for a while. My muse is in the dog house. It's been slacking off its job. *glares at muse, who is sullenly sitting in a dog house* But here you go, the ninth chapter…thank you for putting up with how slow I can be…I had midterms to study for and you know how that can be. Anyway, to make it up to you, I'm going to post a chapter a week for a couple of weeks until Christmas vacation, whereas I might be able to post more than once a week. Be assured, this is going to be a long story…we're only at the very beginning, and already eight (Nine.)(Be quiet, muse.) chapters! Also, there is no such thing as the Northern Path (or at least, I didn't find any mention of any such thing in the books) so that is my own creation. I figured there probably was more than one way to get across the mountain. So we'll see if our friends can make it there. :D
Namarie for now,
LadyoftheRings
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Three Rings for the Elven-Kings
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Chapter Nine
Journey on Foot
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Legolas felt surprisingly better the next day, more like his normal self. He could feel Endara's eyes on him all through the evening, and staved off his protests as Legolas offered to cook. Aragorn's face split into a wide grin at the announcement, and Hantor breathed a sigh of relief. Even Gandalf looked happy. It was actually the dwarves turn to cook, but considering what they called "well done" in the meat department, both humans were insufferably glad that an elf was going to cook.
"My lord, really, you should be resting," Endara protested as Legolas continued to stir the soup he was making.
"Hand me that parsley, please."
"Yes, my lord." Legolas took a pinch of parsley and sprinkled it into the bubbling liquid, studying the result. Endara continued, "My lord, please, let me cook! You should not be cooking, you're a prince, you ought to be…"
"Resting, I know. Endara, I am not going to fall over dead, and I am not made of wet parchment. Trust me, hmm?"
Endara drew away, looking unhappy and muttering softly to himself. Aragorn came to stand beside Legolas, watching the elf cook.
"So that's how you made that funny after-taste," Aragorn said at last. "I always wondered what spice you used."
"It is a secret," the elf said with a funny tilt of his head, eyes laughing at the human. "Handed down, from father unto son, son unto child, and finding its way into my expert hands, crafted by the finest cooks in all the lands."
"I'm so sure." Aragorn's tone was dry. "You should have been a poet, not a prince, Legolas. It suits your calling."
"You should have been a horseshoe," the elf-prince retorted. "Then we could carry you around for good luck. Here, taste this."
Obediently, Aragorn bent to taste the food. "Mmmm, not bad. A little more parsley, though."
In answer Legolas dumped the whole plate of chopped parsley into the boiling caldron. "Not that much!" the ranger protested, staring in horror as the elf surreptitiously stirred the mixture, turning so the Ranger couldn't see what he was doing.
"Go sit down, Aragorn," the response came. "I've been cooking since before your father's, father's, father's, father's father was born. Trust me."
"If you poison us, I'll make you eat everything that's left over," Aragorn muttered as he drew away.
"Fair enough. Sit."
Aragorn shook his head and hid a smile. It was good to hear his old friend barbing back and forth with him. Legolas had never been able to resist teasing the human about his advanced age, and Aragorn never got tired of calling Legolas an old man. It was one of the best things about being friends with an elf—you were certainly never bored.
The two dwarves were deep in discussion with Boromir when Aragorn approached them. Gimli noticed him first.
"Well, Aragorn," the dwarf boomed, showing a certain amount of respect since most dwarves called non-dwarves by their race rather than by name, "are we going to have breakfast or not?"
"Legolas is cooking," Aragorn answered, perching on a boulder. "We should eat in a few minutes." It was getting dark, and bitterly cold. Hantor, who wasn't feeling well, was hidden under a pile of blankets. Sealbeth and Endara were arguing about something by the fire, speaking rapidly in elvish, and Gandalf was smoking.
"Bunch of gibberish," Gimshe growled, looking at the elves. "Sound like a magpie, chitchatchitchat."
Sealbeth swung around and shot a dark glare at the dwarf. "Not that you could ever understand the subtleness of the elven tongue," he said, quite arrogantly. "No dwarf has the wits to understand it."
Endara placed a restraining hand on Sealbeth's arm and spoke in a low voice. Gimshe was half way across the clearing, his axe fully drawn before Aragorn got between them. Boromir ended up sitting on Gimli.
"Enough, all of you," Gandalf said sternly as Gimli struggled under the larger man's weight. "You're acting like children. If you want to bring up every slight ever done by both sides, we could still be here when the world ends. Put aside your differences for a common cause."
The two dwarves and Sealbeth looked like they would rather kill each other first, and then unite against a common cause, but with Gandalf and Aragorn between them both sides had to relent. Legolas had been watching from his position by the fire, and continued stirring the food. His eyes narrowed as he took in Sealbeth's dark, angry look. He may not like the dwarves, but he was willing to put up with them. He would have to talk with Sealbeth.
At last the food was cooked, and though the dwarves would never admit it, it was delicious. Hantor had one serving and when done was looking much less pale, though he still seemed a little wan.
"Is he alright?" Legolas asked Aragorn softly. Talking to the ranger kept his mind off the weight of the Ring, and the distraction was welcome. "He only ate one serving. When you were his age you ate so much the elves were sure you were going to burst, but he barely had one helping."
Aragorn's eyes held no amusement. "I think he is not well," the ranger said quietly, so only the elf could hear. "I will keep an eye on him."
Legolas felt his spirit lighten slightly as the stars and crescent moon rose, bathing them all in dim silvery light. The elves were particularly cheerful that evening, and even Sealbeth was loosing his perpetual frown. Legolas and Endara talked swiftly in the Grey-tongue, their silvery voices soft but still managing to make themselves heard all throughout the trail. Gandalf led them swiftly, the dwarves behind him, followed by the three elves, Hantor, with Boromir and Aragorn taking up the rear.
In the moonlight, the elves looked far more ethereal than by day. Their flowing, dark hair shimmered and their light, lilting voices were smooth-toned and pleasant to hear. They stepped lightly, leaving nary a leaf out of place. Watching them talk, Aragorn could almost imagine himself back in Imladris, as a young boy, standing shyly beside Lord Elrond and listening to the elves talk.
"What are you thinking of, Aragorn?" Boromir asked, breaking into his thoughts.
"I'm thinking of Rivendell," the ranger answered. "The only home I have."
Boromir nodded slowly. "A strange place to be sure."
"Strange only to those who have never seen it through a child's eyes," Aragorn answered in a dreamy tone. "It is…it is different. But it also is my home, my family, my friends." The ranger looked at the noble man walking beside him. "It is a hard life, that of a ranger's. We are respected less even than the elves, and liked far less. We are scorned, ridiculed, all by the people we've sworn to protect. The only home any ranger knows is Rivendell, a place where we are treated as equals."
Boromir considered his words. "I guess I never considered it that way. I always thought the Rangers were just a myth."
"No more than the elves," Aragorn said,
"Yes, the elves." Boromir looked up at the three elves as Legolas laughed softly. "What do you make of them, Aragorn? Are they to be trusted?"
"I have known Legolas and Endara all my life, and Sealbeth just as long," the ranger replied. "Elves are not infallible, but they certainly can be trusted, or most of them. Legolas folk are, by the judgment of the elves in Rivendell, more wild and unpredictable, less wise and less kind, but they are Elves. And that always counts for something."
Boromir fell silent, and the two humans walked in silence, listening to the elves speak as unfriendly eyes watched them from no so far away.
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"Sealbeth." Legolas summoned the elf to his side, speaking carefully in elvish. The dwarves in front of them obviously didn't like having the elves behind them, but could not drop back without seeming conspicuous.
"My lord?" Sealbeth's flat stare was unfriendly.
"You need to watch how to speak to the dwarves. I know you do not like them," he added, raising a hand to stave off any protest. "But they are our companions. It does no good to alienate them."
"I hate them," the elf hissed. "They—"
"I know why," Legolas answered, a bit sharply. "That is no excuse. I give you an order, Sealbeth. Watch your tongue. If we cannot up hold the laws of decency, we are no better than a dwarf. I do not like them either, but do you really want to have to worry about a dwarf sticking his blade in your back when you are fighting orcs? If we leave them alone, they will do the same to us, or so I hope. I do not want another war to break out between our peoples. Do you?"
Sealbeth's scowl deepened, but he bowed his head in defeat. "Yes, my lord," he said stiffly.
"What did Hantor say to you?" Endara asked Sealbeth as Legolas slipped in front of them, finding his way easily down a traitorous ditch full of twisting roots.
Sealbeth's anger seemed to melt away, and instead there was a stoic expression on his face. "Nothing," he said tensely. In front of them, Legolas laughed softly at something the wizard had said. Sealbeth sighed. "He wished to request something, is all," the elf muttered.
"I see." Endara knew better than to press the irritable elf.
Suddenly, a black cloud seemed to fall on the elves. All three of them froze, reaching for their weapons. Endara and Legolas strung their bows and Sealbeth drew his sword. Gandalf too had stopped and was looking about warily. Aragorn realized suddenly why the elves had frozen. All the normal, healthy night sounds of the forest had suddenly vanished.
"What is it?" Gimshe grunted.
"Hush," Legolas breathed. "Orcs are near."
Endara was the youngest of the elves, with the best night-sight, and it was he and Gandalf, who knew the land best, that led their group swiftly away from the area. Elves have good memories, but even Legolas was getting muddled about where they were going. And he could not navigate by the stars; it was clouding up unexpectedly.
It was dawn before they stopped. Even the dwarves were exhausted, leaning on their axes and half-asleep. Aragorn's steps drooped, and Boromir was beginning to regret bringing along his big shield.
"We'll stop here," Gandalf said at last, finding a rocky out-cropping that could hide them while they sleep. "Get some sleep. I'll keep first watch."
The entire Company threw down their belongings and crawled to their sleeping spots. Before long the rhythmic sound of breathing, and, on the dwarves part, snoring, filled the air. Gandalf sat on a rock, looking out over the plain, half-hidden by a brambly bush. Legolas perched beside him, his features wan and weary. Endara slept fitfully, often waking to see his lord standing or pace near him. Sealbeth, too, was awake; the paranoid elf would not so easily sleep in the presence of dwarves, no matter what Gandalf said.
"Mithrandir," Legolas said suddenly, turning his head to look at the wizard, "how far to the path?"
"Another two days of hard marching, at the least. Why do you ask?"
Legolas face was deeply troubled and he paced. Gandalf frowned. Nervousness was not a common trait among elves. They were often content to wait and see what would happen. "Something is following us," is all the prince would say, and Gandalf, knowing that the elf knew little more than he himself, only nodded.
And so began the race to the Northern Pass.
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Don't worry, you don't have to wait long, I'll be posting soon. Unfortunately, it might not be until Saturday evening, because I have tests EVERY DAY this week, and a special class on Saturday. *grimace* Die midterms. Anyway, I WILL start writing the next chapter so you won't have to wait coughtwomonthscough. That was very naughty of me. Santa's put me on the naught list. :D Happy Holidays! Updates coming soon! What'd you think, by the way? Thoughts, comments, jokes, questions, anything? I love to hear 'em all.