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.
Thanks to Jennifer for her review. I'm liking the way it's all turning out too.
P.S. I'm very sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. The zip disc fried itself and I had to rewrite the whole chapter and a twenty-four page script too. Damn it.
WARNING: This chapter contains a bit of torture between > and >>. If you want to skip it, feel free. You have been warned.
"Nock!" Twelve men nocked their arrows onto the strings of their bows. "Aim!" A dozen arms were pointed at the target. "Pull!" The arrows were pulled back. "Release!" A dozen arrows flew through the air and landed almost everywhere except the target. Legolas winced as the men retrieved their arrows. "It's alright, Gugwyn. You did fine. Good job, Thomas." Gimli stood next the elf and asked, "How's it going?" "This is really bad," the elf muttered without moving his lips. "Phillips!" the elf barked. "Do NOT draw fire the bow!"
Frodo had just finished his third serving of lunch when he noticed that Sam was still working on his second. "Sam," he said. "What's wrong?" Sighing, he said, "I was just thinking about Elanor and Rosie. I miss them. I miss the way Elanor used to giggle when I held her. I miss Rosie's cooking too. Like her apple cake. Did you ever meet who made better apple cake?" Frodo shook his head. "I miss Bagend, and the way it always smelled of parchment and pipe weed." Merry added, "I miss the ale fro the Green Dragon and the cute barmaid that used to serve it to me." Pippin said, "I miss meeting Diamond when she snuck out after finishing her chores. I almost miss the way her father used to yell at me." He thought a minute, frowned, and said, "I don't miss his impeccable sense of aim, though."
The girl had climbed as far as she could up a tree and stood staring at the horizon. Aragorn did the same on the ground. The sky was blue, but thick, gray clouds were gathering in the east. She looked down at him and pointed into the distance. "I know," he said. "There's a storm coming." A novice soldier came up to him and asked, "How do you know there's a storm coming, sir?" Aragorn nodded towards the tree, saying, "The same way she knows. The anvil on that cloud is far too large to be anything but a storm. You'll notice that between the clouds and the trees, it's too gray to tell where the sky ends and the land begins; all of that is rain. You'll also notice that the air smells cleaner. The rain hitting the ground pushes all the fresh air forward. And it's in the east; we're in the west, and weather always moves west. Judging from how far it is, it should reach us by nightfall."
Not surprisingly, Aragorn's prediction was accurate. The first few heavy drops had just begun to fall when the troop took shelter under the dense canopy of a forest. The sky darkened quickly while fires were built. After a light supper, people settled around the fire, feeling strangely subdued. Aragorn was sitting with his back against a tree when he glanced over at the girl. "How is your flute coming?" he asked drowsily. She glanced in his direction and extracted the instrument for him to see. "Hmm… Will you play us a tune?" She thought a minute and began to play. The song was low and calming. The combination of slow music, cold air, darkness, and the late hour soon lulled everyone to sleep. The last man to fall asleep would not remember in the morning what he saw. He had nearly drifted to sleep and was watching the fire when the playing stopped. The girl stared at the fire and looked melancholic, almost sad. She pocketed her flute and threw dirt over the fires, extinguishing them until the place was bathed in blue light. The man listened to the rain a moment longer, then closed his eyes and sleep overtook him.
The next morning, the fog was thick, and there was a chill in the air that made the air on one's arms stand up. Sitting up and stretching, Frodo smacked his lips. "Have a good sleep?" Sam asked him. "It was a very good sleep," Frodo said. "Pity it had to end. Gandalf, why is that?" he asked. "Why is what?" the wizard groggily replied. "Why does a good sleep have to end?" the hobbit repeated. Gandalf answered, "So that a good day can begin." Gimli interrupted, "I just hop there's a good breakfast to compensate for the loss of a good sleep."
Aragorn later made the announcement that because there were so few orcs left, the next battle would probably be the last before they went to Mordor to finish them off entirely. The news made the men very pleased. Unfortunately, one man was so pleased that he turned around too quickly and the hilt of his sword smacked Frodo square in the nose. His eyes crossed and he fell back. "Ouch…"
Clutching a rag to his profusely-bleeding nose, Frodo rushed towards the stream with Sam behind him. The girl was there, filling a small canteen and doing a marvelous job of ignoring them. Sam wet the rag and handed it back to his best friend, asking "How does your nose feel?" "Lige id nod a node ad all," he replied.
"In fad, id feeled lige id flad or thumping. Ow! Whad?" After they had failed to notice that she was trying to get their attention, she had taken a pebble from the stream and chucked it at Frodo's head. She put one finger to her lips and pointed across the stream. Some thirty yards away, a lone orc was sitting on a tree stump, gorging himself on a dead badger. Frodo and Sam looked at each with the same thing in their expressions: "There is something very not right here." Both got up and ran to tell Aragorn while the girl began to creep forward. When they arrived back at the scene, they found the orc lying on the ground with a thick bruise on his forehead that was beginning to swell. The girl sat on the tree stump, gingerly licking a wound on her hand. A section of her hair was shiny and stuck together, and one of the yellow patches was steadily turning orange. A dagger lay on the ground with smeared drops of black blood on the hilt.
The orc was bound and, as soon as he awoke, was questioned. He flatly refused to answer with anything other than furious silence, and a few slaps or punches didn't help his surly nature. At one point, Faramir turned to the girl and said irately, "You seem to be full of surprises, so feel free to assist at any time!" Having vented some of his frustration, he commenced with the inquisition. She had been sitting on the ground while a doctor inspected her head wound, and she looked as though she doubted she could do anything useful, but got up just the same. Paying no heed to the men around her, she seated herself in front of the orc and stared intently into his eyes. After a minute, she began to squint, then fidget. She soon looked downward, cradling her head in her hands while the doctor nursed the wound.
It was after fifteen minutes or so before two men, one burly and the other lean, came forward with a suggestion that, while highly unpleasant, did sound as though it would accomplish their objective. It was with great reluctance that Aragorn agreed at all.
>
The orc's wrists were tied behind his back while the other end of the rope was tossed over a thick tree branch. While hoisting the orc up, the pair explained that by dropping the orc, but not to the ground, it would cause a severe amount of pain. It would also dislocate every joint in the orc's arms, and more if they tied weights to his feet.
While the strongman staffed the rope, the sinewy man questioned the orc. Occasionally, the sickening crack of shoulders or elbows popping would sound, and several men had to turn away and cover their ears, repulsed by what was happening. Only Gandalf noticed that girl did not seem at all ill at ease or disturbed in the slightest manner. In fact, she surveyed the situation with the attitude of one who has lost interest and is almost bored.
>>
Needless to say, it didn't take nearly as long as before to extract information. They learned that because of the great number of orcs that had been killed, the remaining groups, a total of six score, had joined together and were prepared to fight until they breathed their last. They were prepared to leave tomorrow and were not so very far away, but the specific location could not be discovered. The muscular one tied off the cable with the orc still in the air while his partner discussed what to do about that missing detail. They didn't notice when the orc began to swing himself back and forth. A thick stabbing sound was heard. They turned. The orc had impaled himself on a protruding tree branch. The body was burned, and the smell of burnt flesh filled the air. A few men didn't feel very hungry that night.
Anxious to cover more ground before nightfall, Aragorn had the troops march another two or three miles before coming to a halt. The men began to settle their things down for the night. One man approached the girl while she sat on the ground, staring above her. "Shift yourself, lass," the man said. "You're not the going to sleep on the ground, you never do. Come on, now. What the blazes are you staring at?" She pointed above her head, and the man followed her gaze. A tiny yellow-green light was floating above their heads, slowly descending on them. It landed on one of the girl's ears. The ear flicked, and the insect flew off again.
A few feet away, Merry saw Pippin looking at a tree knot. "What is it?" he asked. Pippin put his hand on the knot and pulled it away to show Merry what he had. Merry smiled. "It's a lightning bug." "And look," Pippin said. "There's plenty more." It was certainly true. People everywhere were beginning to notice the small insects on the branches and in the trees. Several landed on Legolas's blonde hair and lit up, illuminating his head. The same thing happened in Gandalf's beard, giving the impression that a tiny village resided in his white whiskers.
The fireflies still held everyone's attention when it was realized that the girl had disappeared. A small party went to go look for her. They returned some minutes later, saying they had just seen something that was not to be missed. Everyone followed them through thick underbrush until they came out in a clearing and marveled at what they saw. Hundreds, literally thousands of fireflies swarmed over a tall tree. When they all lit up, the tree glowed. It was hardly enough light to read by, but it was fantastic all the same.
Legolas awoke with a start in the middle of the night. He lay awake for a moment and tried to go back to sleep, but it didn't work. He sat up and looked around, then noticed that someone was missing. Hearing something up the hill, he stood up stiffly and plodded up to the crest. He found her sitting on a small cliff that looked out over a valley. He crouched down next to her and took in the panorama. The fireflies from earlier that evening teemed throughout the dell, looking like tiny dancing stars. Forgetting his own animistic views of her, Legolas smiled; the sight was beautiful.
He watched the lightning bugs for some minutes before looking at her. She turned and peered at him as well. He rubbed the back of his neck to show he still remembered that she had kicked him. 'I don't understand you,' he thought to himself. 'I don't understand a lot of women, of any race, but you find particularly enigmatic. You can't seem to stop alternating between friend and foe, and I don't know what to make of it.'
He thought about saying that. But he didn't. Instead he asked, "And what brings you here at such an hour? The fireflies alone?" She peered into the distance and formed the lower half of a square with her hands. Legolas leaned over and put his head near hers so he could properly see through the frame she had made. He saw what she and few humans could see. His eyes widened, and he rushed down the hill.
Leaning over Aragorn, the elf gave his arm a shake. "Aragorn. Aragorn, wake up." Groaning, he rolled over and asked, "What?" "Aragorn, I've found them." Still half asleep, he mumbled, "You've found who?" "The orcs." Very little had ever caused Aragorn to forget his sleep so quickly.
He was shortly at the apex of the hill, vainly squinting in the direction of Legolas's gaze. "How far away are they?" He and the girl both looked at the elf and waited for a response. "Hmm… I can't say of a certainty, but I doubt that it would take long for us to reach them if we are moving and they are not." "Why in the name of all that is decent are we awake?" Gandalf came up behind them with Faramir in tow. Aragorn said, "Legolas and… whomever found where the orcs are camped out, and we're going to go kill them."
To say that most the men did not appreciate being woken up at that time of night and told they would have to march to a nocturnal battle would be an understatement. In fact, several people were reprimanded when the situation was explained to them and they said they would rather wait until morning to care. It could strongly be suspected that the only incentive they had to staying fully awake, besides the prospect of dying, was that this was one of the last confrontations.
They hiked for roughly half an hour before hiding out in a group of trees near the orcs. Legolas could see no watchmen, but there was undoubtedly one somewhere. This said, the girl slunk away and returned perhaps ten minutes later with an orc's head. "The watchman, I assume?" Aragorn asked. She nodded while tossing the head to one side. He turned to Faramir and asked, "Is everyone ready?" "Yes sir." "Good."
"Stop worrying about it." Aragorn looked at Faramir in surprise. "Stop worrying about what?" Faramir leaned in and whispered in even lower tones. "I know you're agitated and that you think you will us lead to failure. But if everything I've been told about you is true, and if I can rely on my own experience, then I can say with all honesty that I believe you will bring us victory." Unsure of what to say, Aragorn smiled appreciatively. "Thank you," he said. "I can think of no finer man to help lead them into battle."
Aragorn did not let Faramir down; the following combat was over sooner than anyone realized, and despite the unfavorable odds, the outcome was excellent. The decision to strike while the iron was hot paid off; the orcs were more exhausted and unprepared than the men had been! No one escaped without injury, but the casualties were considerably fewer than that of the orcs, particularly when one considered that the orcs outnumbered them three to one.
Faramir was taking the death toll from one of his inferior officers when a throaty, strangling noise came from his left. He turned and saw a dying orc laying its back, a sword blade sticking out of the right side of his chest. It lifted its arm and pointed his finger accusingly. "You!" the orc growled. Faramir looked to see that he was pointing at the girl. She regarded the orc impassively as he glared at her and began to speak in orcish, using threatening tones and shouting. He started screaming something repeatedly. Faramir, eyes wide and teeth set, used his blade to kill the orc and looked at her with confusion. "What did he say?" the officer asked him. "I didn't recognize all of it," Faramir replied. "But he said that he remembered her from before the fall of Sauron. He insulted her and said he remembered what she did." "What did she do?" "…I don't know." She left them before they had the chance to ask.
Aragorn decided to meet back with the other men he had sent out the weeks before and march on to Mordor. Gandalf agreed that it would be a good idea. Faramir took the opportunity to tell Aragorn and Gandalf what had happened, and both seemed surprised. "Amazing," Gandalf said. "That anyone from that aspect of her past should still be alive." "Well, he's not alive anymore."
That night, while everyone else slept, she sat by herself and pondered. Faramir had said he didn't know what she had done. Well, she knew perfectly well what had bothered her old comrade, and she probably couldn't have cared less what had happened. But hearing the question aloud must have brought back the memories associated with them. The thoughts must have been on her mind before she went to sleep. The reason it must have been so is because of the dream everyone had that night. They would remember some parts better than others; but for all, whatever they remembered, the vision would be the same.