Disclaimer: If I owned any of this "Lord of the Rings" stuff, I wouldn't be sitting here, writing fanfiction. I own Arwith. Steal her for your own use, and I'll send small, furry animals to eat your socks.
My first thank-you goes to Lady Luthien for a lovely review. It had me hopping up and down in my chair doing a little cheer. (P.S. I also love Coldplay and The Phantom of the Opera, and I also hate slash and tYpInG LiKe tHiS.) My second thank you is for Eccentric Banshee. (This chick gives some great reviews. Read her story "Governed by Fury.") I actually knew about Viggo Mortensen breaking his toe on the orc helmet. That's why I wrote it in. My third thank you is for teinesamoa. I liked that last chapter- short and to the point.
I guess as good a time as any; I'm planning a new LOTR story! I'll be posting it after I'm finished with this project. Few of the main characters will be there. It features a young man from this story and introduces a young woman we haven't met yet. I have a question for you all- should this be a romance, or is there too much unnecessary romance crammed into stories these days? I'll leave that up to you. Email me, review, whatever you like. If you email, post the title (Blind Sight) in the Subject box, or it'll get deleted. Thank you!
Aragorn looked back at the White City again before continuing his trek. He, along with many others, had decided to set out, separate into small groups, and kill off every orc rabble they could find, before making their way toward Mordor. He was one of a great number that also looked back, thinking already of hearth and home. It was not the first time, and it would certainly not be the last before their journey's end. Arwen was standing on a balcony, after Luthien used her abnormal powers of persuasion to convince Mrs. Miggs that "it couldn't hurt." Eowyn had joined Arwen and both stood watching their husbands depart, hopefully to return. "Can you still see them?" Arwen shook her head. "Not really. They're too far away now.
"May I ask you a personal question?" Eowyn nodded. "Why didn't you go with them? I may have helped, were it not for Eldarion. But you could have left to fight with them. You have already proved yourself a worthy fighter, and you still have no child for which to care." "It's true. I could have left with them. I wanted to. But Faramir and I discussed it, and we decided I should stay and help you with Gondor, and with Eldarion." Arwen refused to accept this. "I'd be fine with Luthien." Eowyn didn't look the Queen. "You were only half right; I don't a child to care for yet." "YET!"
At the same moment, Legolas had been plodding along with the men, watching them glance behind at Minas Tirith, when he perked up and looked around, expecting to see something of interest. Turning to Aragorn he asked, "Did you hear something?" The man thought about it, answering, "No."
The elf looked at the girl, who was sitting bound atop a small pony hands bound, and noticed that one of those animalistic ears had twitched back into place, implying that she had heard something as well. At least he knew it wasn't just him. Well, he would listen for it, and if it didn't turn up again, there was no need to worry.
Gimli grumbled aloud about her. "I don't see why we should need to take her along." Aragorn said, "What else are we going to do with her?" "It doesn't matter! She'll just hold us up!" When listening to the dwarf's hot rants and raves lost interest, which it did quickly, Frodo approached his wizard friend. "Gandalf, why is she coming along?" Gandalf said, "Different reasons. As Aragorn said, we have little else we can do with her. We don't know what she'd do if we left her behind. We don't want to turn her loose on the world before we're certain of her intentions. If she's for us, she may be able to help us, or act as a guide in some way. If she's against us, it's convenient for us to keep her nearby." Frodo was silent for a while, then said, "I think you shouldn't talk about her like that; at least not so loudly." Gandalf looked at him curiously. "And why do you think that?" The hobbit looked back at her. "I think she has more control over her situation than we allow ourselves to believe."
The other three hobbits listened attentively to this conversation. Pippin asked Merry, "Do you think she's holding back on something?" Merry shrugged. "It could be. Women are unusual things." "Particularly the enigmatic ones," added Sam.
The boredom set in almost immediately after the men had finished mourning their departure. For miles, various groups could be heard singing ballads to keep themselves occupied. Some were sad, tales of loss and tragedy. A few were beautiful and made one smile. Others could be described as goofy, making little sense and often sung for the sheer enjoyment of singing. At least once, a song would arise that was racy, the kind sons learned while eavesdropping on their fathers and caused mothers to wrinkle their noses and tsk. Most, however, were happy little ditties, written during good times, about good times. They involved food, friends, and family. The men sang these until their throats were raw and their lungs ached. When this happened, everyone in one company encouraged the hobbits to join in, an invitation which was willingly accepted. One hobbit would sing a verse until the crowd knew chorus and joined in. All four Halflings roamed through their throng of a score or so men, singing and spreading the song about until everyone had heard at least one verse.
"Food and drink and friends aplenty-
Without that, my life is empty!
All the riches I can behold
Would be useless, 'cause you can't eat gold!
Give me all these things and lots of luck!
I'll be happier than a potbelly pig in the muck!
I'll sing till all of the notes have been struck
If I had that kind of life!
Oh, my wife and my children and my garden at home
Are the best I can hope for, the best I've known,
But I'll more of it, anything you can
Offer up. It would make me a delighted man!
Give me all these things and lots of luck!
I'll be happier than a potbelly pig in the muck!
I'll sing till all of the notes have been struck
If I had that kind of life!
The pleasurable thing in the whole world
Would be to always be with my favorite girl.
I'd use every chance I had to tell her
I love her more than the blackberry wine in the cellar.
Give me all these things and lots of luck!
I'll be happier than a potbelly pig in the muck!
I'll sing till all of the notes have been struck
If I had that kind of life!"
This continued for several minutes and almost twelve verses before the laughter finally died down. With their hearts full, their hopes high, and their cheeks sore from grinning, the rabble marched on. When midday approached, everyone had to pause for a small meal, after which they went on their way.
The climate soon turned against them. The heat became suffocating. Several men begged Aragorn for permission to take off their shirts, a privilege that was quickly granted. The day dragged on as the sun beat down on them from overhead, cooking their flesh like dough over hot coals. Sweat dripped down foreheads like water droplets, and by the end of the day, everyone had wondered how the girl could sit above them on that horse, wearing so many cloaks. She sat rigid as a rock on the saddle, but her head began to hang after the heat set in. It was all very unpleasant.
Nighttime was welcomed with their hearts opened wider than their arms. Everyone settled down on a nap kit except the girl. Her hands remained tied in front of her, but instead of lying down, she sat with her back to a tree, pulled her knees up close to her chest, and just barely tilted her head back. To any passerby, it might have looked like she was resting for a moment, not sleeping while sitting upright.
In the morning, everything was relatively calm. The air was heavy and the foliage wet with dew. A light fog hung in the atmosphere, and everything was peaceful. Except that she was gone.
But she wasn't gone the way everyone thought she was. She hadn't disappeared, merely relocated. She was found sitting next to a very terrified Frodo, who had awoken to find her hovering over him, staring. He was now sitting up straight while she inspected him curiously, a look of careful, preoccupied interest on her white face. She was closely eyed but not stopped for fear of what see might do to the hobbit if she felt threatened. She moved around him, feeling a lock of his hair or staring into his eyes. She looked as though she was trying to find something. She paid careful attention to his ears, stroking the filmy skin that made up the tip. She also studied his feet, noting the large size and rough texture, pinching or prodding to see how he reacted. Lastly, she examined his injured shoulder and finger, feeling the wounds with scrutiny. When she had finished her observation, she sat and watched him until breakfast, during which time she ate little, opting instead to watch with fascination the speed of a hobbit's appetite. Afterwards, she returned to her spot against the tree and waited. The entire ordeal made Frodo very nervous and set him on edge for the remainder of the day.
Aragorn promptly had her hands rebound when their trek continued, but she never fought it. But she performed another disappearing act the following morning and was found conducting the same experimental process on Pippin. She repeated this process the following two mornings on Merry and Sam, who had learned to sit still until she finished.
Another unusual, noteworthy event was that, if he woke before she advanced, the hobbit's sword of choice would vanish. On Merry's day, it was discovered that she snitched that particular hobbit's weapon and handled it, feeling the weight and balance and whatnot. It was then returned before they moved on, often without the owner's knowledge of it ever having left.
A few men also would wake to find themselves being watched. They were usually men with some form of physical oddity, such as a missing eye or and an underdeveloped hand. Their sessions were not nearly so lengthy, with only the deformity being held under view. Their reactions varied, with younger men often startled and middle-aged irked, while some of the older fellows were actually rather amused at the attention they received. Plenty of men thought the entire business was bizarre. They would wake each other earlier than usual, and hold bets to see who would be studied next. This only encouraged her to hold her inspections during all breaks, instead of during the early morning hours.
Aragorn even found himself involved in her observations. His was a general inspection, and her main interest seemed to reside in his sword. She turned it over in her hand, peering at the length and the width and comparing to other such weapons.
Legolas did not like being studied; this much was obvious. When his moment came, he sat on his feet, gripping the knees of his leggings with white knuckles. When she felt his ears, he closed his eyes and miserably waited for the uncomfortable procedure to end.
Gandalf and his staff were studied without much ado, but what he lacked in vigor, Gimli made up for with his own. The dwarf was not at all pleased about having her study him. But when she maneuvered his axe, he threw such as a fuss as few had ever known. He had immediately tried to take it back, but she used it to hook the lower limb of a tree, hoist herself up, and climb up until she was beyond anyone's reach. This succeeded in only aggravating him further. He hopped up and down furiously, yelling such things as, "Bring back me axe, yah wee fox woman!" She paused momentarily to look down at him, but soon brought her attention back to what she was doing. Infuriated, Gimli began swearing so rudely in dwarfish that it caused Gandalf's, Legolas's, and Aragorn's heads to swivel. It also earned her the alias "the fox woman."
These experiments soon ceased, and the mob fell back into step. The heat had wavered and eventually tapered off. A chill had set in, and people became very quiet as the battles grew numerous and the hiatus between them narrowed. There was often a town that needed aid, and they gave it to the best of their abilities. This resulted in one man getting married to a woman he had never met before, but other than that, the days passed without event. Quite a few of the gathering began to complain to Faramir that they considered the task at hand to be futile, but Aragorn did not let it bother or slow him.
Gimli's words of doubt about bringing "the wee fox woman" began to spread. She was another mouth to feed, though she ate little, and in combat, she was shielded and someone was stationed to watch her, with a chain linking her bonds to her guard.
One day, everyone was unusually silent. They passed slowly by a foothill, beneath the trees' branches. She was on her horse, a stone-still as ever. She was still staring straight ahead. But no one noticed when her left ear turned toward the mountain. She turned her head and looked upward, pale eyes searching the cliffs. She looked down to her right, at the person nearest her and brought her foot back.
Legolas had been plodding along and thought he heard something. He was about to dismiss it when his head flew forward and he yelped as a sharp pain spread throughout his skull. It started at the base, from where she had given him a swift kick. Everyone gaped. Legolas grasped the base of his head and turned around, looking venomous, when an arrow embedded itself in the tree in front of him. More arrows followed, showering them. They quickly dove for cover as orcs poured out of the crevices.
What followed could not really be described, mostly because battle is such an out-of-body experience. All around is chaos and everything is running, cutting, dodging. A memory that stood out amidst it all was that at some point during the fight, the girl's guard was slain. After untying her hands, she coiled up the chain and began twirling it around her head, letting it out more with every swing. Several orcs were stopped in their tracks when the chain whizzed by their face or caught them around the neck.
When the damage was done and the enemy slain, a look around at the bloodstained grass and mangled bodies made them wish more fervently then ever for their families, their own beds, and the minute comforts presented to them everyday that go unappreciated.
The total count was thirty-two orcs and three men dead, with six more in need of medical aid. Legolas ran about collecting his arrows while Gimli pronounced his victory over the elf. The girl was stepping lightly over carcasses in search of a dagger she had used at some point and anything else of practical worth. She crouched over an orc's chest and tugged until her knife came out of his shoulder. She climbed down and wiped off the blood, but paused when it was almost inside her cloak.
She paused for too long.
She was grabbed around the throat by the previously impaled orc and hoisted into the air, her feet dangling helplessly two feet above the ground. No one was sure what to do about it; she would not be able to sneak up and strangle this one. "This happens a lot when she's around," Merry thought aloud. Legolas quickly fired an arrow. The orc noticed and held her in front of him. The arrow landed dead-center in the middle of her chest.
Everyone's eyes widened as the orc laughed, holding her by the nape of her cloak and holding her out to them. "Missed, eh?" he asked tauntingly. She hung limp in his grasp. …For a moment.
She lifted her hand, and the orc turned her around in time to see her pulling out the offending arrow. She kicked him in the face, and he dropped her, clutching the area begin his chin. She fell to the ground, but landed on her feet and jumped, landing on his chest. She dug into his jugular vein with her teeth, looking vicious and feral and commenced biting and tearing at his neck, roughly gnawing at different places of his throat and shaking her head with every new mouthful. He tried to pull her off, but she was on tight, and he fell to his knees. She didn't stop when his esophagus was ripped out, but continued more wildly than before, the blood pouring down profusely. When the orc really died, no one was sure, but she continued biting and they continued staring, unable to tear their eyes away from the gruesome scene.
She finally settled, but kept growling softly in her throat. Gandalf approached her cautiously, but she saw him and snarled, causing him to back away gingerly. Aragorn motioned for everyone to pile up the carcasses until there were none left. The thought of her mouth, chin, and teeth smeared with blood was a memory that did not leave anyone's mind.
An hour later, after the orcs were on fire and night had come, people sat around the campfire, discussing the day's events. They spoke of their companions, how many they had killed, etc. No talked about what she had done, but it lingered in their minds. She came back after dinner had been served with a small smear of dried blood still on her lips. No one looked at her. She made a beeline for Legolas and stopped in front of him. He glanced up to see her holding out the arrow he had fired. He accepted it and murmured his thanks. She sat down next to a tree, as always and received the light meal that was offered her. The thought that she had already eaten drifted through everyone's mind.
After supper, a fair share of pipes were brought out and lit, using anyone's favored brand of pipe weed. A few jokes were exchanged. A shy-looking young man sitting next to her looked at the extra pipe he had brought along and offered it to her. The crowd kept one eye on her to see what she would do. She looked at the pipe as though she had never seen one before and accepted it, looking at it curiously. The young man also offered her some of his own weed, puffing his pipe to indicate its use. She politely refused it and turned her attention back to the pipe, inspecting it from all angles.
After she had looked it over, under, and through, she took her dagger and used it to saw off the cupped end. The men watched with interest. She carefully carved at the pipe until there were several holes down the middle and one on the bottom. She made a small slit on the underside and into wedged a section of the cup. She blew into the mouthpiece and a high note was emitted. She had made a flute.
Work on this makeshift musical instrument continued while small talk was exchanged and people prepared for sleep. When Aragorn stood, he did not retie her. He lay down on his own nap kit; she would travel freely from now on. When she decided to, she stopped her work and climbed into a tree to sleep. A handful of men did not sleep well that evening.