GRRRRR, I am SOO mad at this site I had this chapter done two days ago and it hasn't let me login. (GLARES) Oh well, here it is now, enjoy you guys!
AN: OMG, yay! Another chapter done and I didn't make any of you wait any longer than I said I would. Ok, from now on unless I get a major schedule change and I have more time on my hands than I know what to do with I'm going to be posting shorter chapters (about the length of this one) every 2-3 weeks. I still wish I could make them longer and keep the frequency but I sadly can't and I know how much you guys hate to wait. So I won't make you wait any more.
AAN: Is it just me or did I make a lot of people afraid of cats with this fic? I for one have a ginger-colored cat and I'm certainly not afraid of her… she has this expression that looks too much like Garfield for me too be afraid of her. Lol, BTW, can anyone tell me what cat my bad guy might be modeled after?
Disclaimer: If I owned LOTR, I wouldn't be posting stuff here I'd be selling it in Waldens and Borders and wherever else and be making a fortune, so no, it's not mine, sadly.
Chapter 7: Battle at Linhinenet
Hooves pounding against the ground and the occasional equine snort were all that was heard as Faramir and Mennel cantered towards the dim lights of the town. Dangling from their stirrups and carried by both in one hand were lanterns to aid theirs and their mounts' vision of the terrain. While both thought it prudent to have a talk with the friend they sought to find there was no point in getting themselves and/or their horses killed because of a thing as simple as darkness.
Faramir glanced at his companion for a moment and sighed silently. He would have much more preferred to have gone to talk to Legolas alone, and in fact had originally planned to do so. However that had not lasted long for Mennel had seen him leaving the soldier's camp and insisted he take at least him along. Faramir had put up what he thought to be a good argument, mainly that he was the Steward and whatever he said went unless the king were present or said otherwise. What he had not counted on was Beregond, his own captain, joining in not to defend his case, oh Valar forbid, but to agree with Mennel that he should under no circumstances go alone.
So in the end he conceded the argument simply so he would be able to talk to the elf before the century ended. Beregond had been left in charge of the men, and Mennel now rode beside him intent on protecting him. At least neither had insisted on him taking a whole group of guards with him. They knew as well as he that they could spare no one if they wanted the greatest chances of success.
Although now that he thought about it, bringing Mennel along would save time in alerting the soldiers in the town of the impending fight so they could be ready to defend the town itself if anything should go wrong.
Faramir focused on the town, wishing it were light so they could ask the horses for more speed. But even with the lanterns it was too risky, so he curbed his desire to race there and instead tried to think of the lovely Shield Maiden that awaited him back in Ithilien.
Above the fields Erd and his master soared, waiting, watching. Faramir and his companion rode below them, nearing the place where the warg riders stood hidden in the dark. The sparrow fluttered anxiously, worried about what would happen to him should this not work. And happen to him something would, for he was the closest of his master's minions, and his master always went after the creature unlucky enough to be closest to him when something didn't go his way.
A couple of yards away the dark eagle rode a soft updraft, allowing it to aid in keeping him aloft so he could spare more attention to the goings on below.
A shout reached his keen ears and he swung around. The tension was over. Gondor and the Haradrim were attacking. The men of Harad had used their impressive skills at moving undetected over open ground to get them to the Erui River. Now they used ropes attached to arrows launched across the river to get a few men with rope ladders across. The Gondorians picked up on this strategy in time, and were already mounted and racing to the riverbanks to meet them.
Within moments the sounds of steel clashing and the screams of challenge and dying men could be heard all the way to the town.
The eagle turned back to his intended prey. As he thought, Faramir and the other human with him had turned around, knowing full well what the commotion meant, and rode as fast as they dared back to their comrades. He hissed with displeasure. NO! The human could not get away, not after all his careful planning. He opened his beak and let a loud screech pierce the air, the signal his riders were waiting for below.
One of the horses gave a snort that really sounded more like a growl, and as one they leapt forwards. Following the scent of their prey on the breeze, they needed no light to find them, though the glow of the lanterns helped, and gained swiftly with leaps and bounds; faster than any natural horses could run.
Faramir wasn't sure if it was a sound or the feeling of dread that stole over him, but something caused him to turn in his saddle, and in the dim light of the lanterns he saw a sight he hoped never again to see.
Turn-slash-parry-stab.
As he fought Aswad made sure to inch towards the edge of the battle, and to mark where the archers were. The first chance he got he wanted to be as far away from this place as possible and on his way north by himself. In no way did he desire to stay in this uncomfortably cold climate, but Mordor was supposedly unnaturally warm and so he kept that in mind rather than the cold rain of the night before.
He blinked as blood from his latest opponent's carotid artery splattered blood on his face and down his front. Someone rushed him from behind and it was by instinct alone that he flipped his blade backwards and under his arm so the person attacking impaled himself on it without Aswad having to make that much of an effort to see him.
Finally getting the blood out of his eyes he turned and noticed that it was one of his own men that had engaged him, the darkness and adrenaline of battle causing the man to mistake his for one of the gondorians. 'Fools, all of them. Grateful I will be to finally be away from all this and back with people of intelligence.'
Looking up from the dead southron he saw the first chance to get away since the whole skirmish started. Well actually it was a bit bigger than a skirmish, but at the moment he wasn't going to be choosy about what he called it so long as he got away before the opportunity a lull near him had caused vanished.
Dispatching another hapless victim, he stealthily made his way to the break in the line of fighters.
Only to be blocked as a rider from Gondor practically crashed into him on his way back into the thick of the fighting he and several others had just charged through. Aswad cursed and sidestepped, on reflex grabbing the saddle and the rider's leg and hoisting himself up behind him as he raced past. The gondorian cursed and tried to turn to look behind him and keep his seat as his horse shied. Aswad was quick in burying his dagger almost to the hilt in the man's torso, then ripped it out as the sudden change in the horse's balance proved too much for the animal and it lost its footing.
As the equine fell hard Aswad pushed off the saddle and threw himself in the opposite direction, almost getting stepped on by another horse as its rider came by to help the one he had just stabbed. This one managed to stay upright but its rider wasn't as lucky and ended up somersaulting off the animal's shoulder and landing hard on his knee, collapsing with a cry of pain. Aswad paid no attention and grabbed the horse's saddle, hoisting himself up and grabbing the reins, then pulling the horse around and racing away from his enemies.
Being mounted had the advantage of allowing him to move much faster and got others to move out of his way for fear of being trampled, but it also had the disadvantage of making him a bigger and more easily spotted target. As he burst free of the fighting he had only a moment of triumph to revel in before pain burst in his side as one of the archer's arrows found him. Belatedly he realized it was from one of his own kind.
'Bastards.'
Ignoring it he raced straight across the fields, heedless of all around him.
Legolas sat up, wincing at the pain in his chest and arm from the bites and from his hip. He looked around his fire-lit room. In a chair near the heath Ossir started from his doze and growled. "Go back to sleep, Elf."
Legolas ignored him and instead focused on the reason for his awakening. The nameless dread that assaulted him, telling him something was wrong and he needed to hearken to it. Pulling the covers off, he eased himself to his feet far more easily than Ossir would have expected from someone so close to death not so very long ago.
He limped to the window and pushed the shutters open, faintly acknowledging Ossir's cries of protests as gusts of cold air invaded the room. The elf's keen eyes scanned everything around him, the buildings, the alleyway below, and to his far right the fields separating the town from the river and the enemy beyond.
Legolas' breath caught. By now Ossir had gotten up and come over to pull him away from the window and force him back into bed. A human looking where he had would have merely seen a bunch of mounted shapes milling about, if that. But elven eyes he had, eyes that had clearly seen Faramir and Mennel by themselves and under assault from about fifteen others. He couldn't explain it, but for some reason those fifteen mounts seemed to be moving as wargs would, but he didn't stop to dwell on it as he tore away from Ossir and practically leapt with his good leg to his armor, having the shirt on and the pauldrons half-on before the human could follow him.
"What in Mordor's gotten into you!"
"Faramir and Captain Mennel are under attack. They have no guard with them, and aid is not likely to come. The battle is started. Gondor and the Haradrim are fighting. If we do not go to them they will not last, not against that many." By the time he was finished speaking Legolas already had donned the rest of his armor and weapons. Leaving his pack he limped to the door, only to be stopped halfway by a very unamused Ossir.
"Let me go, I've got to get to them before it's too late."
"You said 'we' Legolas, and I won't be letting you go alone. For all I know you'll just end up crawling back to me and Hapsen an inch from death's door again."
Legolas looked about to protest. "Just wait half a moment and I'll take you down to the stables and we can grab a couple horses and be on our way. Faramir and Mennel are good fighters, they can hold out that long." The last was said as the human made his way down the hall at a half run, leaving the elf to limp along behind him.
True to his word Ossir was quick in donning his own mail and sword. Except he brought his pack; not trusting to chance that four against fifteen wouldn't come out unscathed. He rushed into Hapsen's room and practically dumped the sleeping man off the bed, informing him of the situation and leaving him to pick himself up and follow them as soon as he was ready. Ossir considered for half a second to enlist the aid of others in the town but thought better of it. By now they would know of the fight taking place at the river and would be preparing to protect the town should the Haradrim make a break in its direction.
Personally Ossir thought such a thing stupid of anyone trying to escape an enemy, but since they didn't know exactly why the southern men had come in the first place it was prudent that they be prepared for anything.
Even in the few minutes that had passed Legolas' worry had escalated to a point where Ossir had been very afraid he would try to launch himself down the stairs and break his neck in his rush to reach his friend. He was relived to find though that the elf had enough sense to let him aid him down the stairs so that they wouldn't waste a second on such a thing actually happening.
Legolas limped as fast as he was able to the stables. Ossir made a grab for his saddle only to have the elf stop him. "You don't need it, a bridle's enough!" he cried as he threw the reins over the horse's head and fastened the straps. Thrusting the horse at the startled man he hop-skipped over to the liver chestnut animal Ossir pointed out as Gesan's when they had come in. Speaking in elvish to the startled equine he calmed it enough that he was able to leap astride and tore out of the open doors.
Ossir cursed and somehow managed to get on his own mount, taking off after the firstborn a moment later.
Faramir barely had time to pull his horse up before the small wave of riders hit him. He shouted a warning to Mennel, only to be answered by a gurgling scream. One of the humans, Haradrim apparently, thrust a spear at him, grazing his shoulder as he ducked under it. He answered by drawing his own sword and hacking with all his might at the person's ribs and arm. A small and grim smirk graced his lips as he felt his blade connect with enemy flesh.
His lantern was gone and the battle between his men and the Haradrim at the river became nonexistent as he and the ones attacking him engaged in a dance of death in the dark. He had no time for conscious thought, only blocking and answering back the ones trying to take him down. What became of Mennel he had not the time to dwell on, and somewhere in the back of his mind a small part of him not occupied currently with survival prayed to the Valar that the captain was okay.
Somewhere during the whole thing he heard a cry he never expected and could not help but turn to confirm with his eyes its source. Sure enough racing towards him was Legolas, brandishing his bow and already firing arrows into the pack of riders around him. His smirk became an all-out grin as several of the riders around him screamed and fell. As Legolas came too close for his bow to be of much use he slung it over his shoulder and pulled out his knives, using his legs to guide the horse beneath him. Behind the elf the Steward could see another man riding to aid them as well.
He turned back to his own fight as a sword swung at his neck and he brought his own up just in time to keep it from depriving him of his head. The number of their enemy had dwindled down to five, and should things keep going as favorably as they were now victory would be theirs and they could go aid Beregond and the rest of the men at the river. But it was not to be.
As he thrust his sword into one of the southern men's torso's and twisted it, he felt something impact him from behind, quickly followed by what felt like knives being buried into his shoulders. Whatever they were they were attached to something for as soon as they were fully buried they proceeded to yank him off his horse.
He hit the ground hard and was immensely relieved and surprised. Relieved that whatever sharp objects had been in his shoulders had left, and surprised because when he hit the ground he came face to face with a dead warg. Before he had time to dwell on this, one of the riders tried to ride their horse straight over him. He rolled to the side, becoming separated from his sword as he did.
A raptorial scream and a cry of surprise made him look up from his position on the ground. Legolas was currently being held by the neck and shoulders by a large eagle. Not anywhere near as large as Gwaihir, but large enough to pick the lithe immortal up and hold him for a good amount of time. Below the two one of the riders was taking careful aim at the elf's heart with Legolas' own bow, which had been knocked from his quiver at some point.
"I have a question for you, Master Steward," the eagle called in a raspy but quite human voice. "What will you do? If you continue to fight then I will simply have your precious friend slain right here and now. And what a pity that would be. There are so few of his kind left, you know."
"Let him go!" Faramir cried, leaping to his feet. Legolas was trying to pry the bird's talons off his neck, but they were buried deep and held fast. He could feel how dangerously close they were to piercing his throat altogether, and as it were he could feel one of them dig deep enough that he began to fear that the blood he felt flowing from it was more than superficial.
"Now why should I do that?" the eagle taunted Faramir, who had retrieved his sword and held it in front of him, ready to attack. "After all he tried to shoot me, and I very much fancy being alive."
"You'll fancy being dead once I'm through with you," Legolas managed to grit out as he continued to struggle. "Silence," the eagle commanded, giving his prisoner a good shake and causing the flesh of his neck to tear a bit more and black stars to burst in front of his eyes as his lungs were further deprived of oxygen.
"What do you want with him?" Faramir was getting worried at the sight of blood running down the elf's neck, and his sudden halt in struggling was adding to that worry. "Him? I don't want him, good Steward, oh no," the large bird shook its red-crowned head. "It is you I want. For what I will not reveal here, but you are the one I came for, so don't think I will hesitate to slay him."
"If I'm the one you want then let Legolas go and try and take me," Faramir's eyes narrowed and his grip tightened on his weapon.
"Again I must decline. Either you surrender and come with me willingly, or the Nine, or should I say Eight, Walkers will be reduced to seven. You don't want that now, do you?"
Faramir growled. There was no way he wanted to surrender to an animal.
"No, we certainly don't!" Faramir turned his head just in time to see the soldier who'd come with Legolas launch a spear straight at the black bird of prey. He'd totally lost track of the man during the fight, but now the Steward couldn't be happier to have him there.
His efforts were short-lived however, as the eagle gave a sweep of his wings and managed to get out of the projectile's way. He wasn't fast enough to prevent it from gauging a deep groove in his leg though. Immediately one of the other three remaining riders pounced on him and forced him face down into the dirt as the eagle gave a pained screech and loosed his hold on Legolas.
Faramir wanted to race over and reassure himself of his friend's wellbeing, but the eagle screeched and the rider placed his arrow tip right between the elf's eyes. "Come any closer Steward, and he dies. Surrender and he will live. It's your choice, and I suggest you make it quickly."
As if to prove his point the eagle flicked its wing and the human pressed his weapon a little harder into Legolas' forehead. Legolas kept perfectly still. The man seemed to be completely in the avian's control, but being the one at the business end of the arrow he wasn't going to take any chances. Being this close to the human allowed him to get a good look at him, and though he was dressed as the men of Harad typically were, something wasn't right. Something about him screamed 'warg' at the firstborn's acute senses.
"Very well then Lord Faramir. If silence is all you will give me, then I take it the elf is expendable," the eagle motioned with his wing again, and the human leaning over Legolas pulled the string of the Lorien bow back a little farther. Legolas inwardly sighed and tried no to frown, lest he die with that expression on his face. Being a warrior and associating with mortals for as long as he had quelled any fear he might have harbored of actually dying. What made him most angry, however, was being killed by his own weapon.
"No!" Faramir yelled. "Take me if you will, but do not kill him!"
"Do I have your word you will come quietly?" the eagle asked.
"Yes, you do," Faramir wanted to kick himself for saying those horrible words, but he had no choice. Never would he let another die that he counted amongst his friends if he could stop it. "Just don't kill either of them."
The eagle grated his beak in thought. "Very well," he said, coming to a decision. "If you come willingly I won't kill the elf or the soldier."
"Deal," Faramir sighed with relief.
The eagle nodded, and turned to his five remaining warriors. "Bind the elf and the Steward, and fetch me a cage."
One of the riders turned his mount and raced off into the woods. Both Legolas and Faramir were too busy frowning at their restraints and the sight of their weapons in enemy hands to really wonder at the strange way the horse moved. Once the two were bound they were made to sit with two of the guards to either side of them while Ossir was pulled away and made to stand in front of the eagle, who had now alighted and stood upon the ground.
Before their eyes a rusty red aura materialized and swirled in lazy patterns around the eagle's form. His body began to twist and alter itself until before them stood the most skeletal and emaciated creature any of them had ever seen. Limp and lusterless ginger colored hair hung in front of sunken grey-green eyes, and he reached a pale hand up to brush it out of his face. The high forehead accentuated the impression that he was from the grave, giving him the appearance that his hair was falling out though they could all see how thick it really was. Whatever had happened to this person they could not have been a day over thirty were they in good health.
From the pouch at his belt the man took a knife and herbs. In his fist he crushed the dried leaves into almost a powder, and while the two remaining men held Ossir still, he advanced on him with the small blade.
"You said you wouldn't kill him," Legolas cried. "Now call your wargs off and leave him be!"
The skeletal creature turned, a look of intrigue on his face. "You are a very observant one, Master Elf. I may have use for you yet."
"Don't hold your breath, I serve no one who would dare to tie me and use me against others."
"Yet aren't you being used against others simply by spying on them at the request of your king?" the man mocked.
Legolas gave him a look of pure murder. To his astonishment, the human didn't look in the slightest bit impressed.
"What are you going to do then?" Faramir was no less wary of a person who could look an angry elf straight in the eye and not be affected by their stare.
The skeletal man gave a short laugh. "Why, I am going to pay him back for trying to kill me. Something I should really do to you as well, Master Elf, though I won't. I have something far better in store for you."
Legolas chose to ignore him, not in the least bit interested in what that might be, and not holding any illusions that it would be pleasant, for him at least.
The skeletal man turned his attention back to Ossir. Legolas noticed this and tried to get up and aid the soldier, whom he had come to like. The soldiers, or disguised wargs if you wished to look at them that way, grabbed him and kept him in place. Faramir would have taken the opportunity and tried to help while there was no one guarding them, but the shapeshifter's voice stopped him. "One move out of you Steward and he will die."
Faramir wasn't going to take that chance, so he forced himself to sit still as he watched the man knick the soldier's neck while the warg-men held him still. It was not near any vital areas, but that proved to be the least of their worries as the ground herbs were forced into the cut, and the skeletal man began to utter words that none of them had ever heard before, or ever wanted to hear as the sound grated against their ears.
"Amrek shelagh rensil. Conregh deralth vescloqh. Roldoth zelath glonir!"
Legolas bit his lip to keep from crying out as he struggled against his bonds, trying to get his hands free so he could cover his ears. Faramir shivered as if suddenly deathly cold.
Around Ossir a brownish aura began to swirl. The warg soldiers stepped back as his features and body began to twist and shrink, brown and cream fur growing on him and a bushy tail sprouting from his backside. In moments the soldier was gone, and a squirrel stood in its place, looking totally horrified and bewildered. One of the warg-men stepped up and grabbed him by the scruff before he could think to move away.
Legolas and Farmir were no less horrified. "What have you done?" Legolas demanded.
"Oh don't worry. He'll change back when the counter-spell is performed on him," the skeletal-faced man said dismissively. "We should be going now. It's getting way too close to morning for my liking. Those clouds won't last long after sunrise and I don't want to be here by then."
"Who are you?" Faramir asked as they were prodded to their feet and manhandled onto the warg-horses. The fifth rider returned with a makeshift net made from thorn branches into which Ossir was promptly dropped. "Ouch! Easy you ruffian."
Legolas was relieved the soldier had at least retained his ability to talk.
"My name, my good Faramir, is Roklem," the man hissed as he muttered some words and transformed into an eagle again, though this time a smaller one, joining the sparrow that hovered over them silently.
"What do you want with us?" Legolas asked.
"That, Master Elf, you will find out soon enough, though I will say that your part in all this has just taken a whole new turn."
TBC…………………….
AN: OK, I have to get to my Animal Science class so I'm just going to post this and I'll put the reviewer responses on my Livejournal page later, as well as come back and fix any typos I missed. The link to it, I believe I already told you, is on my bio. Thank you all of you who reviewed and keep sending them, Please?
