A/N: AH-hahahahahahaha… I'll smash it with a hammer! Sorry, I love that line. And I won't really smash it with a hammer because then you won't get to read it. Yes folks, the moment you've been waiting for for almost two months (or is it past that? /shrugs and ducks flying forks/) is here: Sindarin Fox chapter 10, well 9 technically, but whatever. YAY! Anyways first I have to say a big thank you to everyone who's stayed with this story. For those of you who have left, I'm sorry you have but it has taken over a year to get this far with almost nothing regarding the main plotline, so for that I forgive you. Anyways this chapter brings an end to all that, which is why it took me so long to write it. It has been a major pain in the you-know-what, and my evil little muse hasn't been much help either. But here it is nevertheless. And I seem to have finally found a summary I like. More Yay!
As any of you who have read my last livejournal entry know, after this comes most of the ideas I had for this story, so updating should become easier. /glares at her muse, daring her to run off again/ Of course I can't blame her entirely though. I just started my first semester of college the last week in August, and since I went away from home it's been a big change, though a very welcome one. College rules! High school was crap compared to this.
But anyways I have only one more thing to ask before I let you go on to read the twenty pages of text I've given you. Would anyone like to beta this story? I was going to go beta-less since I can more-or-less edit text and navigate middle earth on my own. But with my muse being so unreliable I'm to the point where just talking to someone who's into this story and could give me some good ideas would be very welcome. I have lots of friends that are also writers, butmost of them are total anime fans (one of my other loves /grin/). So no lack of writer's support there, but still, I'd like someone who's been following this story to help out. So anyone who's interested say so in a review or leave a comment on my livejournal page. Thankies! /grin/
Disclaimer: No I don't own Lord of the Rings or anything else that the great Tolkien wrote and I'm not making any money for this so you can't sue me.
!Warning!
This story is still rated 'Teen', or 'PG-13' depending on which rating system you use. However, to cover my own hide I'm upping the rating on this chapter to 'M', also known as 'R'. The overall story will still be PG-13, but this one chapter has particularly graphic violence and it is only fair that you should be warned. If violent ritual bloodshed bothers you, then do not read beyond the warning sign. Just go to my livejournal page, where I'll have a non-descriptive summary of what happened so you can remain up to date.
Don't flame me if you fail to heed this warning. It was given in all fairness.
Chapter 9: Blood Curse
'Keep going, keep going…' Gesan kept repeating the mantra in his head as he fought to stay awake. Exhaustion threatened to overtake him as he and the pale grey ghost of a steed raced beneath the stars. Once they had reached the edge of the woods and the end of the trail, that had turned out to be far more dangerous than anything he would ever have attempted to ride through at night had he known it was there, Arod took the sudden wide open road as the perfect opportunity to move them both along more quickly. Opening his stride he gave the boy a true taste of what speed was.
The scenery flew by and Gesan had to blink often to rid his eyes of the tears caused by the cold wind ripping across them. His face became numb and his lungs hiccoughed at the icy air being forced into them. But he loved it. The wind blowing his cloak out to billow behind him, the ground becoming one smooth river of brown and green beneath them, the sheer thrill of knowing that even though he couldn't see much by the light the moon and lantern offered, Arod could, enticing him to place all trust in the elven-owned steed. The horse himself was flying faster than any other he'd ever watched run, let alone been on himself, his gait so smooth the boy could easily imagine them taking off and joining the eagles in their own sacred territory at any moment.
Gesan knew the animal beneath him belonged to someone else, yet he couldn't help but wish that Arod were his. Never had he met any creature more awesome or amazing. He was in a dream, racing along on a stray splash of star light. For a moment he forgot about the pressures of being away from family and home, of the battle and his mission, and he gave himself over to the sheer rush of adrenaline, laughing, feeling as wild and carefree as the elves he supposed must have in the beginning, when they were first awoken.
For awhile the speed and excitement kept him awake and aware. But as time went on his body began to demand that he give in to its limitations and sleep. The young soldier denied himself to give in for as long as he could, lest he fall or worse be forced to stop for the night and risk getting caught by not only Haradrim but by any predators or bandits that might be lurking in the area as well.
His last thought as his weighted eyelids eased shut was, 'gotta keep going…'
"HEY!"
Gesan's eyes flew open and he bolted upright. Looking around he was startled to see massive white walls in front of him. Looking behind him he could see the expanse of plains behind him. The sky above was a grayish-blue, yellow light tinting the horizon. Arod stood quietly, waiting for him to make a move. The stallion had gotten them here, now it was up to him to get them inside.
"Are you deaf! I asked you what business you have here at this hour!"
The young man looked up at the guard yelling at him from the top of the wall. As he did he realized the great gates were closed. How long had he slept?
He shook his head and finally answered the man, who was by now getting highly impatient at having to deal with a half-asleep boy when he himself would love nothing more than for his shift to end so he could get some sleep. "I need to get inside; I've got news from the Lords Faramir and Legolas for the King regarding the Haradrim. It must be delivered as soon as possible."
"And what news is this, pray tell?" the soldier gave him a suspicious look, unsure if he should trust that such a young person would be given responsibility of anything of great importance.
Gesan shook his head. "I'm sorry but I cannot tell you. By the orders of both the Lord's this information is for the King's ears alone."
"Well unless you can prove that what you say is true I suggest you wait until the gates open. I'm sure three hours won't make that much of a difference." With that the man turned away and proceeded to ignore him.
Gesan fumed in dismay. Three hours! Even though he was sure no one at the palace was up at this hour he was certain that neither the King, Faramir, or Legolas would be pleased to hear that he had been delayed for so long when he was so close.
He shuddered at the early morning cold and pulled his cloak tighter around himself. Calling to the guard to hear him out proved futile as he was only warned that if he kept up the racket he would'nt be allowed in the city when the gates did open.
A half hour later he was startled out of his reverie as an older guard coming to relieve the one he'd spoken to spotted him. "You boy! What business have you that you'd be waiting out here so early?"
"Pay him no heed, he says he was given a message for the King but has no proof of it. I told him he has to wait until the gates are opened for the day," the relieved guard said.
"Is that so?" asked the newcomer, stroking his beard and appraising the youth looking up at him from the back of a very familiar, and by now fidgeting grey horse. "Tell me lad, by what name does that fine animal of yours go by?"
"His name is Arod, sir. He is of Rohan stock and was loaned to me by Lord Legolas of Ithilien." Gesan had a hopeful look in his eyes as he said this. Perhaps Arod really would be of use in allowing him passage into Minas Tirith.
The older soldier smiled and nodded. "I thought as much." He then turned to the men on the ground behind the wall. "Open the gates, and be quick about it!"
"What!" the younger guard looked at him incredulously. His companion shrugged. "That horse is the personal mount of Lord Legolas. If he let another take him then the reason must be one of importance."
Less than ten minutes later the gates were opened and Gesan rode through, thanking the man as he went.
Arod was more than happy to be moving again, and the boy on his back had to fight a bit with him to get him to stay at a soft, easy lope. After a while of this he decided the heck with it and let the stallion have his head. Arod snorted and settled into a much faster pace of his own choosing. Gesan was grateful that the rest of the gates were kept open and that there were no people out in the streets at this hour, with the exception of a few guards that kept smartly out of his way, his uniform enough that they didn't question his presence.
The last gate was of course closed, but a quick explanation and the sight of Arod and his uniform was sufficient to grant him passage. The teenager was loath to admit that his magnificent ride on the fiery steed was at an end, but he dutifully patted Arod on the neck and bade the sleepy-eyed stable hand that took charge of him to give him special care.
He was led into a dining hall and told to wait there while the king was fetched from his rooms. The boy was slightly confused as to why they would meet there instead of in the throne room, but said nothing, figuring he would either find out when the king got there, or that it was something he should simply overlook and be glad he got his message to the king at this hour.
While he was waiting he tried to stand stock-still and look smart and attentive when the king arrived, but as the minutes wore on the desire to fidget grew until he couldn't help but shift back and forth from one foot to the other. What sleep he's gotten on Arod wasn't nearly enough to sustain him for long, and he was beginning to tire as the initial adrenaline he'd gotten from finding that the horse had gotten him to their destination unbidden wore off.
Gesan's jaw tightened instinctively as he fought to hold back a yawn. He caught his hand straying to cover his mouth and tightened it into a fist to keep it at his side.
The doors swung open behind him and he whirled, just in time to see Gandalf the White enter.
"Well, this is a surprise," the elderly-looking being said. "Never did I expect to see others showing up so early."
Gesan bowed. "I bear news for the King that cannot wait for a later time to be delivered."
"Do you now?" Gandalf asked. "Well, being the person Aragorn is I'm sure he'll have no problem shaking himself into coherency despite the hour." There was a mischievous twinkle in the wizard's eye as he said that, putting the boy more at ease after his abrupt arrival.
Gesan nodded. He certainly hoped so. He definitely didn't want to face a disgruntled monarch just woken and dragged out of bed.
"Well, while we wait we may as well order something to eat. I don't know about you, lad, but after that journey I could very well use a meal."
Gesan certainly didn't know what to say to that. He knew the wizard was a friend of the king and allowed to make himself at home while there, but to invite him to join in… What was he to say to that? Sure he was hungry, but every instinct screamed at him that he had no right to be sitting at the King's table when the monarch arrived.
The White Wizard saw the boy's hesitation. He also, with his foresight, could see that this boy would prove to be quite important a friend to have in the not-too-distant future, and so he began trying to get the young man comfortable with his presence. "Come now lad, you need not worry about decorum. Why it's not even dawn yet! Come sit and eat with me as a friend, and I assure you that Elessar will not object in the slightest."
Gesan was unsure of this, but desired to anger or insult the wizard no more than he desired to anger or insult the king. "Then I shall take you up on your offer, Sir Wizard," he bowed low.
Gandalf smiled. "There's no need for that boy, you may address me as Gandalf, or Mithrandir."
"Mithrandir?" Gesan tried the odd word on his tongue.
"It is the name the elves gave me," Gandalf explained. "It means 'Grey Wanderer' in their tongue. They still call me that, though grey I am no longer."
Gesan noticed the wistful smile on the wizard's face. He surmised that the other was thinking of days long past, and of memories he could not even begin to comprehend. After a moment though the Istari snapped out of his reverie, and shook his head. At that moment a couple of servants brought enough food to the table to feed three people at least.
Gesan stared at the man. He must have planned this out in advance for them to wait so short a time to be fed. And judging by the looks of things, he'd planned on adding to the participants to the meal.
They were at Gandalf's urging about to break their fast when the doors opened once more and none other than King Elessar strode through the doors. Gesan jumped up and bowed low swiftly, lest he be thought rude. The king, to his surprise, chuckled. "There's no need for that, my friend, 'tis far too early for formality." As Gesan straightened he could indeed see that sleep had not completely left the Heir of Isildur's eyes, yet he noted that the man still managed to be attentive regardless.
"Ah Aragorn, come, join us. And you, young man, didn't I tell you that wasn't needed? Sit, both of you." Gandalf said, waving his arm.
"Isn't it a bit early for breakfast?" Aragorn asked as he and Gesan took their seats, the latter a bit tentatively.
Gandalf mock glared at him. "The hobbits would be horrified to hear you say such," he said gravely.
"Oh please. With the amount they eat I'm surprised they don't explode. They're like horses, always looking for food," Aragorn responded, reaching for a piece of fruit. He looked over at the teenager who looked as though he would be bitten by something horrible if he touched anything. "Gandalf's right. Eat something, you look famished, and I was told you had news for me."
Gesan nodded, as he reached for the bread. "Lord Legolas infiltrated the Haradrim camp. He found papers, my lord, and feels that this threat is bigger than was originally thought."
"Papers, you say? Did they tell you what was written on them?" Gandalf asked.
"Lord Legolas believes they have writing hidden on them. He sent them here with me to ensure they'd not be lost in the confusion of the fight."
"And that's why you're here at such an hour?" Aragorn queried. At the teenager's nod Aragorn asked, "Was Faramir going to attack when you left?"
"Yes, your majesty," Gesan answered.
"Please," the former ranger waved his hand. "No formalities. My name is Aragorn."
"Aragorn," the young soldier repeated, and the king nodded in approval.
"Has anyone tried to decipher the papers yet, do you know?" Gandlaf asked. "I would assume Lord Legolas tried, but he didn't find anything before he gave them to me to bring to you. He was hoping you might have more luck." With that Gesan brought the rolled up documents out of an inner pocket in his tunic where he'd kept them and handed them to the king.
Aragorn looked at him sternly. "Why didn't you tell us you had them earlier?"
The young men suddenly looked very much like a frightened rabbit under his leader's gaze. "I did, sire. I wasn't going to hind them, I swear."
Aragorn's eyes closed, realizing the boy was right. "My apologies, apparently I am not as awake as I thought."
Gandalf leaned over and placed a placating hand on the ex-ranger's arm, gesturing the man to calm down lest he send the boy running from the hall in terror. Aragorn was still irritated with himself, but acquiesced, his eyes softening and his previous friendliness returning.
"I'm sure my boy that you have not looked at them, am I right?" Gandalf queried, drawing Gesan's eyes to him. Gesan for his part was relieved to have an excuse to take his gaze away from the irritated monarch sitting across from him. "No sir, I did not. Lord Legolas and Lord Faramir both instructed me to bring them here as fast as I could so there'd be no chance of anything happening to them while the battle was going on."
"Well then, no harm done," Gandalf smiled. "They're here, and safe, and now I suggest we open them and take a look at them."
"Shouldn't you and I take a look at them in the library after we're done eating?" Aragorn asked, wondering why it was that Gandalf was so interested in including the boy when he to tell the truth could see no point in it.
"Quite right," the wizard nodded. "Let's as the hobbits would say 'tuck in' and when we're done we can all—"
"Sire!"
Gesan started and turned as the other two men looked up at the Citadel guard who'd just come running through the door, causing it to bang against the wall with the force with which it had been thrown open. Close behind him glided a mottled black hawk.
"Sire, this bird just came for you, it bears a message," Aragorn's eyes narrowed at the frightened look on the guard's face. The man looked like he'd just seen a wraith. The bird alighted on the table amongst the food. Gandalf frowned upon realizing there was no note tied to the avian, nor did the guard come over and hand one to them. "That is no ordinary bird…"
Aragorn and Gesan noticed this too. Aragorn looked back at the still wide-eyed guard, and was about to ask him where the message was when the bird itself spoke.
"Greetingssss Elesssssarrrr," it hissed. "My Massterr would like to inforrrm you that the battle isss underrway, but morrre than that, he can't sssay."
If Aragorn was taken aback he didn't let it show. "Then just what did he wish to tell me?" he demanded.
"Only thisss," the bird replied. "The Lorrd Faramirrr iss currently ssstaying with my Massterr to take carre of ssome busssinessss. Once he and my Massterr have come to a ssuitable arrangement he'll come back to you. Until then don't try to find him, my Massterr doessn't like his business being interrrupted. Don't worrry about hisss ssafety."
With that the bird launched itself at the window. "Wait!" Aragorn called after it. "Why would Faramir not be at the battle? Who is your master, and what business has he with my Steward?"
"You'll know, when you arrre meant to know," the hawk croaked back. Pausing at the open window it cocked its head back to regard the king with a black, beady eye. "Don't believe everrything you ssee, Elessar."
Then it launched itself out the portal and was gone with a gust of air.
"What was that all about?" Gesan asked; eyes still fixed to the now empty window.
"I don't know," Aragorn's voice was low and determined. "But I'm going to find out." With that he strode past the guard to the door.
While a few of the Warg-men watched them, Roklem transformed the rest of them into eagles. Each was almost the size of Gwaihir's kin and more than capable of carrying them a distance. The prisoners were forced to sit and wait while the rest were transformed when the sound of pounding hooves came into hearing. Rolkem's eyes narrowed to dirty green slits and he snarled at one of the eagles. "Go find what that is! If it's one of the Gondorians, kill them."
The eagle leapt in the air and flew off towards the shadowy figure. Legolas couldn't see him very well, but the person leaned low in the saddle, yet wasn't moving overly fast. More than that he wasn't given time to discern, for the eagle swooped down and plucked the unhappy person from their saddle. The horse shrieked in pure terror and shied away, veering off and racing towards the town. The eagle snapped its wings open and those on the ground had to shut their eyes to shield them from the dirt it kicked up. What they saw in its talons once they were able to see again was not what they expected. Out of the eagle's talons tumbled a Haradrim soldier. He gave a muffled cry when his shoulder impacted the ground, jarring the arrow sticking out of it, before coming to rest on his stomach. He didn't look at any of them, instead breathing hard and focusing on trying to control the pain.
Roklem walked up to him and nudged him with his foot. "Who are you?" he demanded. "And why do you flee north, when the rest of your companions are to the south?"
The man raised his head, dark eyes taking in the man before him, and gasped "I'm trying to get away from my companion's desire to get themselves all killed. We should not have come here like we did, and I have no desire to be slain for my commander's incompetence."
"And why did you come into our territory in the first place?" Faramir shouted at him, earning himself a swift hit from one of the eagle's claws, opening up a large gash in his ribs.
"Be silent," Roklem warned, and then said to the eagle, "Do not harm him further. I want him alive and at least partially coherent when we get home." The eagle nodded, cowering at the deadly promise in his master's eyes.
Ossir was outraged. "How dare you! You lousy, good for nothing, bag of bones lunatic!"
"You would do well to keep your mouth shut, squirrel," Roklem tilted his head towards the birds of prey. "Unless you've forgotten that some eagles will eat small animals like yourself."
"Ossir, be silent, it's nothing." Ossir looked like he was more inclined to believe that the One Ring had been pink than that this was 'nothing', but he followed Faramir's order anyways.
"Now what should I do with you, Master Haradrim?" Roklem returned his gaze to the wounded man at his feet.
"Judging by the company you keep I'd say we have the same enemies," the man murmured, his eyes smoldering at the sight of Legolas. "Take me with you and heal my wounds and I'll serve you in whatever your endeavor with the Gondorians. My own people are too stupid for my allegiance anyways."
Roklem did not miss how the man looked at his elven prisoner. 'Perhaps he could be useful in controlling him. At any rate if he proves useless I can always use him for my experiments.'
He motioned to one of the eagles. "Very well, I shall keep you for now until you prove your usefulness. But fail in that and I think you'll find death to be far better than life. Understand?"
"Perfectly."
"Good," the shapeshifter nodded. "And what, pray tell, is your name?"
The man picked his head off the eagle's neck, from where he was situated on the creature's back. "My name is Aswad Sem," he answered. "And yours?"
Roklem laughed, a haunting and horrifying sound that made Legolas and Ossir want to run up a tree and hide and Faramir to jump on a horse and keep running until the thing collapsed. Such creatures, all concluded, should not make such sounds. "My name is Roklem."
Aswad nodded. "Then I am at your service," and dropped his head back onto the eagle's neck, unconscious after using the last of his strength in that mere bit of conversation.
"Well, then," Roklem nodded to the eagles, before transforming back into one of the great birds himself. "Let's be off."
Normally the thought of flying would have intrigued Legolas. Being a wood elf, heights didn't bother him, but flying in such a manor as he currently was definitely had his heart pounding in his chest from dread. Above him the large scraggly eagle screeched coarsely, causing him to wince as the coarse sound grated on his delicate hearing and the lethal talons tightened his arms against his sides.
Legolas glanced over at Ossir, pitying the poor man, first for the fact that he had been turned into a squirrel of all things, and second for the fact that he was trapped in a makeshift cage made of thorn branches. The man—or squirrel—had kept his comments wisely to a minimum, but as the unforgiving thorns poked, bruised and pierced him, his desire to tell their captors exactly what he thought of them escalated to the point where he could hardly manage to maintain his silence.
Faramir was no better off. The gash on his ribs was bleeding still, and would need attention soon if it was not to become a serious concern to his health. He also bore the burden of being the one whom Roklem truly wanted, and the worry of what would happen should the evil creature capitalize on his companions' expendability. If control over him they sought, they didn't need both Legolas and Ossir. While Ossir was the logical choice to get rid of considering his current state, Legolas was far more difficult to control, and they might do away with him simply to make their lives easier.
Legolas could see this too, as could Ossir, and so both for the moment remained obedient to their captors' whims. All three however were on the lookout for any chance they had to get away, and should one come, they'd be ready for it. Being by now a few thousand feet in the air they were forced to relinquish this idea, but the flight wouldn't last forever.
Indeed a few hours later they began their descent. Even Legolas gave a sigh of relief as they came closer to the ground. The higher they went the colder the atmosphere became, and by the end even the elf was shivering with cold, his injured hip protesting fevently. The human and squirrel were almost hypothermic.
Roklem gave them a few minutes to regain their breath after having been subjected to such thin air for so long, while he changed his minions back into Wargs. The one carrying Aswad he sent bounding ahead after he made sure the man was securely tired to its back. A few he turned to humans, and they were instructed to take hold of the prisoners as a first line of defense against an escape attempt.
Once they were ready the group set off into the forest. Legolas of course realized where they were, for he'd been there before. The river to his right, and the growing roar of water plunging down could only mean one thing—Rauros Falls. It was the only waterfall he knew of that was so big he could hear it a few miles off. 'Is that where they live?' he wondered.
They hiked along the forest trails, the terrain getting steeper. Legolas' body warmed quickly even in the shade of the night and the brief flashes of moonlight that would flicker through the leaves as the wind played with them, even his own healing wounds easing to a dim memory in the back of his mind. The Steward was worse off, and the elf winced as he heard them berating him for stumbling and not moving fast enough.
Finally he'd had enough. Faramir set his foot on a rock that jutted out of the ground and it gave way beneath his weight, rolling to the side and pitching him the other way. The Warg-man to his right wasn't out of the way quick enough, and they both ended up on the ground with the creature on the bottom.
"You clumsy fool!" he screeched.
"My apologies," Faramir forced out, not really sorry at all. If anything he was more disgusted that he had come into bodily contact with the foul thing. The impact had done nothing to help his screaming ribs either.
"That's it, human. How an oaf like you could be so important I have no clue, but it won't matter in a moment."
The Warg advanced on the man. He was not as good at stalking in this form, but his intentions were made clear anyways. Even bound and injured as he was Faramir prepared to fight back, shifting his own weight forwards slightly and crouching down ever so slightly, hoping to catch the Warg off guard.
Legolas was watching all of this out of the corner of his eye, until one of his own escorts smacked him upside the back of the head and snarled "Mind your own business, Elf."
Instead of getting angry at the being, the elven prince simply followed what was going on with his ears. When the Warg and Faramir squared off, causing the entire company to pause, he too prepared himself for action. The Warg charged, and he erupted into motion simultaneously.
Ducking and whirling around the blonde elf took out his escort's legs from under him, not missing a beat and dashing forward with elven swiftness crouched and stuck his leg out low along the ground. The charging Warg-man had no time to interpret what the gold and green blur could possibly be when he found his foot irretrievably hooked on something and the ground coming up to meet him incredibly fast as all his forward momentum shifted into a downward arch.
Legolas waited not a second after the Warg met a face-full of soil and grass before straightening and darting back over to his previous position in the group, looking for all the world like nothing had happened, forcing himself to ignore the protests of his hip.
Roklem had watched all of this with fascination. If he had any doubts about what he had planned to do since seeing the immortal's skills at the town, they had just been completely obliterated. He made up his mind right then and there the exact course of action he was going to take, and strode forward to put it into motion.
The Wargs of course were extremely angry at being made fools of, yet seeing their master stalking towards them; they backed away from their intended prey.
"Well, well, well. It seems I was correct after all," the skeletal creature purred, taking a hold of Legolas' chin and looking at him as one would look at a horse they might buy. "You could be very useful."
Legolas yanked his face away from his grip, eyes flashing in anger. Roklem chuckled and stepped back. "Of course not as you are now, but that's easy enough to fix."
He turned back to the Wargs. "Take our guests to the clearing, make sure they're blindfolded. I'll be there shortly." With that he left, calling behind him, "Oh, and don't rough them up very much, I'd like them to be coherent for this."
Ossir spoke up for the first time since they'd landed. "What do you think he's got up that bone-filled sleeve of his?"
"Hey, no talking," the creature holding him gave the thorny cage a good warning shake, rending new cuts and lost patches of fur on the poor squirrel. Said squirrel grumbled, and Legolas had to admire the extent of his imagination when coming up with ways to torture people he didn't like. The elf made a mental note not to ever get on the man—er,squirrel's—bad side. The idea of having ones brains removed through ones eye sockets didn't seem like a very pleasant pastime.
One of the men came up to the elf with a dirty piece of cloth that he supposed was to be a blindfold, and he treated the creature to a scathing elvish glare. The Warg-man didn't look happy that he had to work with such an obstinate prisoner, yet with the help of some of his buddies holding the bucking elf still managed to get the thing on. Faramir was too tired from blood loss and everything else his body had recently been subjected to, so he simply stood still for the whole procedure. Ossir they took care of just by draping a cloth over his cage.
The whole way there went fairly smoothly. Considering how difficult it is to fight multiple opponents while being shoved through the woods the three companions let themselves be led along, or Legolas and Faramir did, anyways. Fortunately the beings leading them weren't as stupid as the orcs they were famous for carting around and made sure their charges came out of the hike with no new injuries. In a twisted way it was like being lead blindfold through Lorien again to Legolas' mind.
It didn't take too long for them to reach where they were going. Though none of them could see they were brought to an abrupt halt and heard muttering as someone moved things around the clearing. Legolas heard a muffled yelp and something scraping against the ground.
How long they were made to stand there they didn't know, but with his elven sensitivity to nature the elven prince concluded it was now sometime near dawn. The noises stopped for the most part and were replaced by footsteps that stopped a moment later. The blindfold was removed from Legolas' eyes and he blinked for a moment to rid himself of the oppressive feel of it before looking around.
Faramir and Ossir were still blinded, and all three were too well guarded to try for an escape. Actually looking around the clearing's edge Legolas could see at least twenty more Wargs in their true forms. They were standing guard. The clearing itself was large, large enough that had the Fellowship done more scouting in this area they'd probably have found it fairly easily when they came though here on their journey. In the middle there was a sharp rise in the ground, caused by boulder or forgotten cairn, though which Legolas could not discern, for it was too overgrown with thick moss.
The ground circling it had grass much higher, almost up to the elf's knees. In the center, next to the rise Roklem stood, inspecting some freshly drawn carvings in the moss. From what the blonde elf could see they seemed to encircle the entire thing, and seemed to be intricate carvings of the waxing crescent moon. An open leather-bound book resting on top of the rise served as a platform for a jar of something or other. Roklem reached towards it and Legolas realized he had a brush in his hand and was painting over the carvings with whatever ink or ink-like substance the container held.
After circling the rise a few times and touching up a few of the marks with the liquid Roklem placed a stopper on the jar and moved both it and the now cloth-wrapped brush into a leather bag on of the Warg-men held for him. The book was moved into the hands of another who held it open to the page specified of him. A signal brought a third Warg-man forward, holding another bag which, due to the movement inside held a live creature, while from the first Roklem retrieved a ceremonial knife and bowl.
If Legolas was curious before, he was becoming very wary now, particularly since he was the only one that was as of yet not blindfolded. His wariness went straight into alarm as his guards prodded him forward until he was at the base of the rise, which he found twisted around before becoming flat at the top, making the easiest way to climb it either to jump straight up or follow the curve around.
He was halted at the base right in front of the shapeshifter. "Well now, Legolas. Have you guessed at all what you are witnessing here?"
Legolas glared at him. "How would I know what you have planned? All I see are some ink-covered carvings in the rise."
"Ah, but do you know just what that ink is? Surely you can see it from here." Legolas turned away from the man and gave the carving closest to him a good look. The ink was dark, but with the light of the full moon on it he could see it wasn't the quite the right color for ink. It wasn't the right texture either. After over two thousand years serving as a warrior in his father's realm Legolas knew full well what that substance really was. It was…
"Blood," he stated grimly. Roklem grinned and held up his wrist for the elf to see, pulling back the sleeve. It was bandaged. "It's my own blood," he stated a little too eagerly for the elf's liking, "necessary when one is planning to do a Blood Rite."
Legolas felt his life fluids run cold. "That's just a vague way of saying you're planning to do a Blood Curse. Those are forbidden!"
Roklem laughed and leaned closer to the by now frightened firstborn. "Only if one is too stupid to control them. And I assure you I'm not. I've had enough practice," he whispered.
"Such arts were destroyed by the Istari centuries ago!"
"Not all, my fair elf, not all." With that Roklem motioned to the man holding the still squirming bag. With a heavily gloved hand the creature pulled out a fox. Not just any fox though, but one of the most unusual Legolas had ever seen. In fact the likes of it he had only seen once, in the days long past when Mirkwood was still known as Greenwood the Great.
It's fur was stormy-silver grey flecked with black, it's underside white like most foxes, except on the upper chest where it was interrupted by the wide band of reddish-gold fur that separated grey and white, racing from where its sides met its back legs to stop at the shoulder and then continue again up the neck to the base of the ears, ensuring that grey never touched white, except on the jaw line. On top of the nose black tear-lines ran from the corner of the eyes to the end of the muzzle where they wrapped in a wide band underneath the jaws, leaving only the very tip white. The back of the ears were red with a grey patch in the middle, and from the back of the neck a black dorsal stripe ran the length of the back and bushy tail, ending at the black tip. The legs were red-gold with a long patch of grey on the front. Black-rimmed amber eyes completed the picture.
"That's a Wood Fox," Legolas breathed, awed at the stunning creature.
"The humans call them 'Grey Foxes' or 'Tree Foxes'. They're quite rare," Roklem said casually as he toyed with the knife in his hands, testing the sharpness of the blade on his thumb. Seemingly satisfied by it he motioned the man to hold the struggling animal over the bowl.
(Warning, those who get queasy at the sight of ritual gore leave now!)
Legolas started to struggle against his bonds. "No!" he cried out. Roklem nodded and Faramir and Ossirs' blindfolds were removed just in time for them to witness Roklem plunge his knife into the fox's chest, twisting it and causing more blood to pour from the wound as the dying animal shrieked, its cries haunting and horrible, to Legolas even more so than that of the Ring Wraiths.
"What the—" Faramir and Ossir were at a loss for words, trying desperately to figure out what the point of the slaughter was. They'd both heard whispering, but the exception of Legolas mentioning something being forbidden, Faramir couldn't make the conversation out. Ossir couldn't make anything out for unknown to Legolas he and Roklem had been speaking in elvish the entire time. He'd simply been too focused on what was going on to pay any attention to it.
"You're sick!" Legolas growled, as the fox's struggles ceased and its breathing stopped forever.
"Oh come now, it didn't suffer long," Roklem said as he continued to drain blood from the body.
"It shouldn't have had to suffer at all," Legolas was livid that anyone would dare end the life of such a rare and beautiful creature so brutally, and to top it all off have the audacity to do it right in front of him.
"Too late now." The shapeshifter wiped the blade off on the edge of the bowl and moved closer to the elf. The hands holding him tightened. At that Faramir had had enough. "Touch him and I swear the Valar themselves will not be able to save you."
"Aye. You have my word on that as well," Ossir added.
Roklem glared at him. "Remove the squirrel; take him back to my study for now. Gag the steward."
Legolas moved to protest but the sharp blade at his chest warned otherwise. The cloth was dropped over the briar cage and Ossir was whisked away as Faramir'd blindfold was balled up, shoved into his mouth and secured with another around his head.
"Now then," Roklem motioned for the Warg-man to remove the mail and leather armor. It was a tedious process, considering the elf had to be untied for a short while, but despite his struggles they managed to keep a tight hold on him until it was done and they were able to get his hands bound once more.
Legolas' struggles increased as the blade came closer to his chest, complete terror overtaking him. The hands tightened once more as the man casually and without any ado plunged the knife deep into the immortal's chest, striking his heart and twisting just as he did with the fox.
Faramir screamed through the gag even as Legolas did, while Roklem brought the bowl under the knife, making sure to catch every drop of blood. Legolas' cries continued, despite the overwhelming agony and the swift weakness overtaking him as his life flowed out of him.
When enough blood had been collected Roklem ordered the elf's bond's cut and the brace removed from his leg, his body held horizontal so that no blood could touch the ground once the bowl was moved away. A Warg from the trees came forward and crouched down low, allowing the skeletal man to step up on his back so that the rise, the top of which normally reached a tall man's chin, now came to his chest, allowing him to work more easily.
He took some of the mixed blood, and drew in the center of the flat top of the rise an intricate knot of multiple crescents intertwined within a circle of the same strand as the rest of the design.
Legolas was then lifted up and carefully laid directly on top of the knot, so as not to smudge it, his arms positioned slightly away from his body and his feet half a foot apart. The pain sharpened as he was moved, yet through it all Legolas still somehow had the piece of mind to wonder why he wasn't dead yet. A wound such as this should have killed him by now. Yet all it did thus far was weaken him past being able to struggle or cry out, his screams reduced to mere agonized mewls. Shifting his gaze he gazed at the ceremonial blade still sticking out of his chest.
His head was tilted up and through the haze of pain saw the rim of the blood-filled bowl pressed between his lips, the liquid inside being forced down his throat as it was massaged to encourage swallowing. Legolas tried to spit it back out, but only managed to choke and take more down as he tried to clear his windpipe.
Finally the foul drink was taken away, leaving him with a sick feeling in his gut. When would it end? Why hadn't it already? His body was more than ready to quit and release his spirit to Mandos' Halls. Yet something was stopping it. By now his mind was drifting on the edge of darkness, and he barely registered the knife being shifted until it was pulled out at an angle with a harsh tug, flesh from his very heart being torn away with it. He was brought back for a moment with a scream, as something was pressed into the very depths of the wound. Then the darkness was there, rushing up to take him away.
Roklem knew he had to work swiftly or this would fail. When he ripped out the piece of the elf's heart he was swift to replace it with a piece torn from the fox's, pouring some of the remaining blood into the still bleeding wound. He then stuffed the piece of the elf's heart into the vulpine's wound, and poured the rest of the blood into it.
The fox was then laid out over the elf on its back, each of the legs and the head aligned with Legolas' own limbs. He stepped back, grabbing the book from the Warg-man and began his chant. The key to this spell was that it had to be timed perfectly, or it would only result in the bloody death of both of the creatures participating, rather than one.
The sun had already begun to rise when the preparations were finished. He had to say the last word of the spell at the moment the sunlight broke the horizon, and before the fading elf could breathe his last.
Through the haze the foul words tore, wrenching one last scream from Legolas he didn't even know he had the strength to utter, the last word ringing as the sun's rays broke the horizon, catching him in his elevated position, and everything was enveloped in white.
Faramir was hysterical by now. Tears streamed down his face with abandon. If anyone told him grown men weren't supposed to cry he would have decked them right then and there. No one could watch what was taking place and not be so affected. Not if they were a true friend that is, and Faramir, for all of his seeming mistrust, did count the fair elf from Mirkwood amongst his friends.
The burst of light whirled around the two bodies, then dissipated. Roklem motioned the steward and all but those left on in the woods to depart. Before he was blinded and led away, Faramir managed to steal a glance back at the rise, and gasped. Left behind was not two creatures laid out in death, but one, panting and quivering in shock and fear. There on the rise lay a Grey Fox, but not the same one as they saw be slaughtered. This one looked almost the same, except that its coat shone with a light that no mortal creature could ever achieve. A bandage wound around a hind leg, and a stitched cut was visible above one eye. The bright eyes were a perfect blend of sapphire blue and stormy grey. And running up its muzzle right between those eyes to its forehead, was a vaguely shaped diamond of purest gold.
TBC…
A/N: Well, I said it'd be violent. Sorry if that grossed anyone out but let's face it. Classical myths and legends surrounding witchcraft don't say anything regarding pleasantness for the subjects of said spells. And anyways it actually took me a long time to figure out how I wanted that actual scene to go, but when I thought of that idea I simply couldn't let it go.
Okay peeps. Reviewer responses should be up either today or tomorrow, so look for them on the livejournal page. For those of you who didn't know, the grey fox is a real fox, and they really are nic-named tree foxes because they are the only canines that can climb trees. Some of the things said about them in this story will be actual fact, and I'll tell you what facts are real at the end of the chapter. I'm setting up a link to some pics of grey foxes on my bio. I tried to describe them as best as I could, though really it'll never do them justice. Go click on one and see them, they're gorgeous.
Oh, and of course, reviews please? I need them after this troublesome chapter.
