'…I recommend biting off more than you can chew to anyone, I certainly do.
I recommend sticking your foot in your mouth at any time,
Feel free.
Throw it down (the caution blocks you from the wind),
Hold it up (to the rays).
You wait and see when the smoke clearsYou live you learn
You love you learn
You cry you learn
You lose you learn
You bleed you learn
You scream you learn…'
Alanis Morissette You Learn
Chapter Ten Light
Yuna ran, practically collapsing out of the darkness and shattering the light. Her eyelids rebelled against the sun's pure brilliance and shut tight leaving her momentarily blind. After a few seconds constant blinking, the pain grasping her eyes subsided and she coaxed them open, taking in the scene unfolding in front of her.
The entirety of the Fellowship possessed at least one of three qualities; sorrow was held throughout but was most alive on the faces of Merry and Pippin who lay on the placid rock, crying freely in each other's company. Anger was a relentless tool for Sam who struggled for freedom from Boromir's hold, frantically trying to make it back into Moria. Then there was anguish and the uncertainty of what would happen next. This was a feeling that had already started to seep into Yuna's conscience. She failed to stop a numb sensation creeping over her, the sudden burst of action and constant lack of rest had more than stretched her boundaries. She could see the Ring-bearer in the corner of her eye, stumbling down in an incoherent daze. Aragorn had morphed into the makeshift leader of the party, no one seemed to complain so neither did she. They all had more important matters to attend to. Gandalf's death had been hard on all of them. He seemed to be the Fellowship's source of hope, their ray of light, and now he was gone. The council had been her first encounter with the wizard. She held a sort of unspoken respect towards him, but other than that, he was no more than another one of the nine doomed to die somewhere around the Black Gate.
If they even got that far.
That was another thing pressing on her mind. When she was tracking them, she thought there was no chance they were going to succeed. Now she was sure. With Gandalf gone, what little hope they had seemed to go with him. Was she the only one who saw how futile the whole journey was? Was she the only one who realised that there was no chance that they would actually get within a hundred leagues of Mt Doom? Sighing she collapsed down on a rather convenient collection of boulders. Now the whole idea of just eight making the perilous route to Mordor seemed foreign and unreal to her. Like a quest mapped out in some ancient storybook. The reality of it was that Gandalf was now gone, the Fellowship had no guide, no one to trust in to get them there, and Frodo lost someone who was like a father to him. The Hobbit seemed to feel better in his presence; at least there was someone who knew what was happening, where they were going, and someone he could talk to about the Ring.
Yes, the Ring. She hadn't thought about it much, striving to push it out of her mind. She was here to help them as much as she was capable of. The last thing the Ringbearer needed was yet another troubled mind to worry about. Besides, Yuna was almost three millennia older than the majority of the Fellowship; she wasn't going to let the Ring get to her as if she were some inexperienced child.
'Ow' She thought as she attempted to undo the clasp of her cloak. Her right shoulder was throbbing violently. Dropping the corresponding hand to her lap, she brought her left around to examine the area. At least half of a thick and altogether menacing arrow shaft was protruding from an area close to her shoulder. It was a lucky shot. If it had hit just a few centimetres in either direction, an abundant layer of amour would have stopped it. But, as it was it had impacted on flesh and now was imbedded quite deep into her arm. Blood, sticky and almost black was dripping rather liberally from the wound, winding down the rest of her arm slowly. Without hesitation, she wrapped her fingers around the hard wood and bracing herself for the pain, yanked it out as fast as she could manage. She tightly clutched the offending object in her hand for a moment as she tried to regain her breath, the sudden blast of pain having winded her momentarily. No matter how hard you tried, you could never fully prepare yourself for something like that. Tossing the piece of wood to one side, she tried her best to undo the remains of her cloak and rip a sizeable strip of cloth from the hood. It proved to be somewhat a hard task for someone in her condition but she prevailed in the end and carefully bandaged the injury. It wasn't as good a job as she would have liked but for the moment it would just have to do until they rested for longer, giving her the chance to clean it.
The rest of the group was too preoccupied to notice. Aragorn had somehow managed to get them on their feet once more and they were slowly moving away from the entrance to the mines. She followed suit, not wanting to be left behind at this point.
It was something she had feared for quite some time now, she supposed as far back as Rivendell. Something happening to Gandalf and Aragorn taking charge in his stead. Old issues still hung in the air and she didn't know or care to assume whether he would hold the same tolerance that the wizard had. What would happen considering this particular dilemma, only time would tell? But one way or another, time always ran out.
It was hard for him not to hold on, but instinct told him he had to. If he'd let the young Hobbit go and he'd run back, the foul creatures that – for the moment – were trapped there would tear him limb from limb. He would not let blind rage send him to that end.
So the wizard had fallen. He slowly registered the fact that the Halfling had given up the futile battle, and now stood limp and sobbing. He relinquished his grip somewhat, but still kept him in his hold, just in case. Inevitably, a lump rose to his throat. He had lost numerous friends or members of his family. As a warrior, he never let it get to him. As a human, it hit him every time. He could completely close himself off, but you'd lose a part of yourself in the process. He didn't want to let that happen to him, no matter how much power he'd receive.
"Legolas," He heard the ranger in the back of his mind. "Get them up."
Feeling outrage surge through him because of this, he burst out: "Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" He hadn't meant to say it, but raw emotions had overcome his self-control. The elf looked back mournfully, but did as was asked of him.
"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs!" Said the Ranger in reply. "We must reach the golden woods of Lorien before then." He nodded weekly. It was the best he could do. There was no point in trying to fight his leadership, past experience confirmed that he was unlikely to win, and besides, the Ranger was right. Staying 'til nightfall was simply welcoming death.
Giving the Hobbit that was still firmly planted in front of him a heavy pat on the shoulder, he moved forward. It was at this time that he noticed the half-elf, sitting around a cluster of boulders off to one side. He considered going to talk to her, but decided against it. Even though he had known her for a very short time, and talked to her for even less, he knew when she did not wish to be disturbed. Even though she probably knew the old wizard even less then he, she would still have been affected by his death in one way or another. Now was not the time.
A few moments later, after talking over with the ranger, the elf and the dwarf decided upon their current route and were ready to begin their journey anew. It was this difficult to get the Hobbits on the move, they were nearly inconsolable, thankfully, however they still retained some sense. They started down the slope; it was plain to see that the next two hours would be anything but easy going. However, with the Ranger gently leading them on, they would make it, somehow. Minutes past and he registered someone coming up behind him. It was the half-elf. She gave him a withered look from her green eyes that conveyed the barest hint of sympathy. As she stepped into sync beside him, he once again considered talking to her, asking if she was all right. Somehow, he already knew he wouldn't get an answer without some note of patronised sarcasm. He set his eyes forward, to the rolling emerald landscape that was effortlessly stretching itself out in front of them. If he squinted, he could just about make out a vast forest to the south. He assumed it was the golden woods as they seemed to be headed in that vague direction, although he had conversed with the others, at the moment he could only remember vague details of their former journey.
"Have you been to Lórien before?" He asked the she-elf. It was an attempt to start up a conversation; he needed something to take his mind of their current predicament they had been more than unwillingly thrown into. She sighed slightly before turning her head to look at them.
"More than a couple of times." There was a hint of hesitation to her voice. "Whether you will be welcomed there…is an entirely different manner." There was a pause. A silence that was not altogether awkward but unwanted all the same. He noticed something that had only lately daunted him. The cloak that had always hidden her frame was gone. A tattered band around her arm, all that remained. He had seen her in it for the short days he had known her. Only ever seeing a brief glimpse of what lay underneath, a gloved hand here, a booted foot on some occasions. Seeing her without it was almost…odd. What she wore was quite practical for what little he knew of her lifestyle. For starters, the brown leather brigandinetrimmed with a green boarder that had engraved golden ivy snaking up it could more than withstand a battering. In addition, it was buckled at the front in three places and had intricate and exotic designs and symbols etched on to the back. It covered a simple, long-sleeved, green v-necked top. Her boots were nimble soled for swift, light movement and reached just below the knee. Then there were the various pieces of amour here and there. On both fore arms, just after the shoulders, was a metal spaulder that once again was adorned with an array of strange patterns. Strapped to both hips and calves where small daggers, slightly larger ones hung from either side of her hips and these were held in sheaths attached to two belts that criss-crossed each other. In fact the only thing that seemed to contradict this practicality was her moss green leggings, simply because they laced up at the front, leaving a slim section of skin revealed.
"Why would they not welcome us?" He asked after what had seemed to be an age. "Are the elves not our allies?"
"Allies yes, but would they want the one ring in their fair city? That is highly doubtful. But the Lord and Lady of the Wood are wise, they will do what needs to be done." He gave her a confused look.
"Lord and lady?" She seemed to expect this response.
"You will find out, soon enough."
Pippin looked to his cousin who was ambling along a little to the left of him. Legolas and Aragorn were heading up the group with Gimli not far behind. The four hobbits were next, keeping close to each other for comfort, which every one of them needed right now, even if it was simply to know that there was someone else there. Boromir and Yuna were at the rear, the only two that were able to find the words for a conversation. The young Hobbit closed his eyes; it was brief, but long enough to re-live the memory. Right then he wished for so many things. He wished it had all been different. That the Balrog had taken him instead. Bit most of all, he wanted to hear the old wizard's voice again, even if it was just to scold him for being the fool of a Took he was.
They were just reaching the outskirts of the woods of Lorien now. The trees' fringed borders between open land and vast forest were fast disappearing as the company hurried on with little intent on stopping until they had cleared at least another mile and were in the thick of the woodland realm. As usual, the Hobbits and Gimli were somewhat lurking behind. Yunalesca could well understand the Halfling's reluctance. One of the only people they could really look up to and trust had just died, and a blow like that was not something you merely shook off. But she knew Gimli was stronger. Or, well, he claimed to be. Although Gandalf's sudden demise would obviously be hard on him, for the sake of the rest of the fellowship, he couldn't break down.
She lightly scolded herself. Nobody needed criticism at a time like this. And yet, she seemed to have an endless supply of it. For the moment, it was all bottled up. And seeing like none of them seemed to feel like doing any real amount of talking, she would hopefully be safe. It was when they inevitably stopped that she was worried about. Then, she only prayed that she'd be able to control herself. Thankfully, she wouldn't have to think about that for a while. There were still a good few hours of sunlight and she was sure that Aragorn was fully intent on covering as much ground in that time as possible.
Yuna winced as she stepped rather sharply on a spot of ground that would best be described as a pothole. It wasn't the first time she'd done this, and every time she had, it agitated the already tender flesh around the open wound made by the infernal goblin's arrow. She was keeping pace as best she could despite this. But fatigue had long since taken her in its vice-like grip. Casually, Yuna glanced around to see if anyone had dared to notice this slight mishap, in the end deciding that none had.
Unfortunately, they hadn't stopped for a breather yet, meaning that attempting to better bandage the damaged area had been impossible, and now the thick band of cloth that bound it would jut have to make do. The strip of green sorely reminded her of the unfortunate encounter with the cave troll. She felt slightly exposed without the worn cloak, it wasn't like she had spent her entire life wrapped in one, but it's absence left her feeling a little vulnerable. This sensation was in no way appreciated.
'Stupid Ranger.' She complained internally. The aforementioned was scouting ahead, a black beacon on the horizon. It was pitiful that her insults had deteriorated to this state, but at the moment it was all she could hope to manage. Besides, she had to let her anger and frustration out on someone, and he seemed the better target out of the rest of them.
Guilt…
It haunts you…
Silently taunting…
It closes in around you…Your every step echoes it...
Cutting you off from those you love most…
One day you'll wake up and find yourself empty…
No trace of your former self left, just dead on the inside…
The ranger knew what had just happened wasn't his fault, how could he be blamed? And yet…guilt whispered in his ear, filling every corner of his mind. He couldn't escape it. But worse, another feeling that wouldn't leave him was doubt. Doubt that he could truly lead the fellowship. That he could get Frodo and the one ring to the Mountain of Doom. That It would finally be destroyed. The very might of Sauron was against them, they had never planned to face it head on, but now a of chance passing by unnoticed was severely diminished.
Maybe they should just give up? Try and find another way? Now that Gandalf was gone, it seemed as if there was little other choice…No…that was exactly what the enemy wanted. To break their spirit, make them feel as if they were all alone. The eight remaining had to stick together, had to move forward and leave what was in the past to the past. Aragorn would have to keep strong.
The Dwarf felt numb. He had lost both his cousin and the wizard in a space of mere hours; he didn't know how exactly he should handle it. Like Aragorn, he too had lost many companions. Souls that in truth had not deserved to die, but unfortunately fate did not look upon right or wrong. Though sorrow was held in his heart he would not let it fully break through the barriers that had been carefully built there. A single leaf floated down gently in front of him. The various trees that now encompassed them were shedding with a vengeance and left his feet covered inches deep in the thick carpet of gold tinted foliage. They would carry on, to what end he did not know, but he would go with Frodo nonetheless.
It was after a couple of moments that he realised that the rest of the group had stopped a few metres back.
"Dark is almost upon us." He heard a voice ring clear in his ears. "Travelling in these woods at night is not wise, we should break for camp and continue again in the morning. Besides, we could all use a rest." You could tell by the ranger's voice that the added strain of taking lead of the group was weighing him down. Gimli turned and gradual walked over to where the others stood.
"I…I suppose that someone should gather some wood and start a fire." Said Merry, quiet and unsure of himself. Although it was a decent idea and the thought of having a cosy fire did appeal to most of them, no one was quite willing to do anything about it. Frodo and Samwise went to sit down, resting their backs against an overtly large tree. It was true that night was coming, already the sun hung low and hazy in the sky. Though the forest seemed immensely hushed for a place that contained so much life. Almost as if it too felt their pain. Finally the silence that had been present amongst the group was broken by Gimli who mumbled something about seeing a few dry twigs and ambled off. He was soon followed by Boromir who needed a moment to himself and so veered off in a slightly different direction. The Dwarf did not have to go far to find some apt kindelling and enough wood to keep a good fire burning for most of the night and after gathering these he headed back to the newly founded campsite.
The last rays of light where slowly dying away, laying wake to the darkness beyond. An attempt to get a fire going had started almost immediately after Gimli had returned and was still in progress. Aragorn however, had left this task to the others. He had wandered a little way away, just to get some time to catch his breath. He heard a small gasp come from the direction of a cluster of trees set close to the encampment. Yunalesca was sat under their bows, clutching at her right shoulder. He moved closer with some hesitation. The two held some pretty harsh feelings towards each other, he was uncertain whether they would ever really be able to resolve them. Then again, right now he had to be the better person, if only for the sake of the Fellowship. Getting closer he realised what it was she grasping. A blood-encrusted piece of green material lay idly beside her, as well as that her left hand was covered in the dark red substance.
"Yuna." He said softly as not to startle her. She looked up to him, only now seeming to realise that he had moved to where she was. "When were you hurt?" The she-elf was silent for a moment before answering, as if she was contemplating whether indeed to do so.
"In Moria, I suppose." She replied shortly. He came nearer and knelt down beside her, still a little indecisive. He could see the wound clearer now and make out fine details.
"Goblin arrow?" He questioned her again. She nodded.
"Whilst we were leaving." A pause and then. "I should have been expecting it, but I guess my guard was momentarily down." He said nothing, never having seen her in this particular state. Yuna constantly clung to her hard exterior and although he had not really spent any great deal of time with her for obvious reasons, seeing her almost exposed was not something he was unaccustomed to.
"Here." He said, reaching out his hand towards her. She gave him a confused look. "Your arm." Her face did not change.
"Its fine…I'm more than capable to handle it myself." She said defiantly.
"Look Yuna, for once just let someone help you. We have had our differences in the past, that I can not deny, but it does not have to remain so." His plea seemed to have little effect on her. "You proved yourself in the mines and although it seems I have yet to fully prove myself to you, the least we could do is try to get along. In any case, though you claim otherwise, tending to that wound will be difficult to manage with only one free hand and I have no desire to see you die due to obstinacy." There was moment of suspense before finally, slowly and falteringly she lifted her arm, resting it in his still outstretched palm.
Odd as it was, Yuna didn't completely object to complying with Aragorn's wishes. She supposed she should have but thinking about it from another point of view, she didn't have to hassle with trying and almost certainly falling to adequately bandage the injury. Though she still thought of him for the most part as a cocky child, she was sure that he was more then able to handle something so simple.
"Stay here." He said. "I'll be back." With that he stood up and walked back in the direction of the camp. Staring at the back of his head she regarded whether indeed he could have gained a greater state of maturity in the past few years. There encounter long ago had left her with a vast amount of spite for the human, she doubted that she could ever truly forgive him. But if not forgive, she just might learn to forget. It didn't take long for the said human to return with a small earthenware jar in hand. She eyed it suspiciously. Once again, he knelt by her side, opening the jar before lightly grasping her arm.
"What exactly is in there?" Yuna asked cautiously.
"Something to help close the lesion." He replied, not looking up and instead dipping the tips of his fingers into the jar. When they came out they were covered in an unappealing green substance. This hardly helped her eternal cynicism and in accordance with that she tensed the muscles in her arm.
"You sure about that?" He gave her a look. "Alright, I apologise for not trusting you and place myself in your capable hands."
Dawn came, and the sun had firmly established its place in the morning sky as the company departed, making their way deeper into the woods. They marched on for the better part of the day, taking no more rest then that that was required. Little had happened the night before, no one had any real desire to talk and so most of the group had retired early. The Hobbits ambled along, scattered amongst the line of walkers. Yuna hung behind, her arm firmly patched up and, incidentally, feeling a lot better. No one spoke, save a passing comment from the Brandybuck and Took, or a mumble from the Dwarf concerning the abundance of the surrounding trees and absence of anything remotely friendly-looking. Most were still silently grieving for Gandalf. They were getting deeper into the thick of the wood now, the sunlight filtered through the canopy above, creating an eerie yellowish glow that encompassed the moss-covered roots.
"Stay close, young Hobbits" Gimli ushered Frodo forward, eyeing the area around him with distrust. "They say that a great sorceress lives in these woods. An elf-witch…of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell!"
There was a snigger towards the back of the line. Gimli glared behind him, and his eyes narrowed as Yuna looked to the ground, shaking her head in amusement, the corners of her lips still curved upwards. The Dwarf chose to ignore this, and kept on with his tale. "…And are never seen again." He grunted audibly. "Well, here's one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily! I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox…" His speech was cut rather short due to the simple fact that he now had an arrow of the Galadhrim aimed directly at him. As did the majority of the Fellowship, even Yuna came face to face with a number of the Elven archers. Legolas already had his bow drawn; though with five arrows already focused on him, this would be of little use.
"The Dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark." Said one, stepping out. Nauseatingly blonde hair adorned his shoulders. He spoke with an air of authority and was the only one not sporting a fully drawn bow.
"Haldir, like you said, he's a Dwarf, that's not much of an achievement even in the dark." Yuna remarked, stepping forward whilst ignoring the many finely tipped bows.
"Yunalesca." He replied tediously, "A pleasure." His voice clearly indicating otherwise. She smirked, rolling her eyes in the same instance.
With that, and a few more pleasantries, they were politely escorted further into the forest.