A/N: Okay, anyone who hasn't given up on me probably wants to kill me by now and I can't say you're wrong. A lot went wrong in getting this chapter done, and I sincerely hope it doesn't happen again. So thank you everyone who has given me their support, and now here's your, albeit a tiny bit short, and waaaayyyyyy long overdue new chapter. Which I haven't named, simply because no name came to mind.
BTW this chapter has only been partially edited due to my being sick of it not being posted. I will come back and re-post it in its fully edited state later.
Disclaimer: Anything owned by Tolkien and New Line Cinemas is not mine, and I'm not making or ever will be making or ever have made any profit off this story. It was done only for the enjoyment of myself and anyone else who ever takes interest in it.
Chapter 10
After being trapped in a net of brambles for the last several hours, in the form of a squirrel, and also having been forced to watch a good portion of a ritual more ghastly than anything he had ever witnessed in battle, Ossir felt it was safe to say he had had enough. As he was carried to wherever it was the foul man kept his study he thought back to all he had witnessed ere he had been removed from Roklem's ritual site. His heart twisted at the thought of what that man might do to the elf, and his stomach flipped with some of the images his mind conjured.
'Gods protect him,' with that he went back to the task he had set himself when they put the drape over his cage and separated him from the others: gnawing his way through the entwined pieces of thorn branch surrounding him. If he could get one to snap, he should be able to squeeze his small, lean form through. It might cost him some more blood and lost fur, but no more and probably less than if he stayed in his prison.
He ignored then low chatter and bickering of the creatures around him and chewed the branch as best he could. He knew not how much longer until they reached Roklem's lair, and he had no desire to get caught in his act. He thanked Eru that the sun had risen high enough to give him sufficient lighting. Such a luxury came in quite handy, he'd found over the years.
The branch in his mouth was close to breaking. He separated it into a few smaller strands, working them one at a time. As he nipped and bit at the one currently in his mouth he let his senses wander. He hadn't noticed it due to the overwhelming stress of before—he had to snort at that sentiment considering it was far from being over—but now that he had time and opportunity to let his mind wander and rant he noticed just how much his perception of the world had changed. Every scent, sound, and even sight (when his cage wasn't draped over with cloth) was heightened, altered.
Especially now that his predicament had given him the opportunity to end his captivity, he found he was actually grateful. If it meant he was able to free himself and stay alive longer Ossir was perfectly willing to remain a squirrel for at least a short while.
The last piece snapped, and he pulled at the other branches, nipping here and there, trying to get the hole big enough to slip through, but not damage it so that he couldn't hide it to cause confusion when they lifted the cloth and realized the small creature wasn't there.
Once he was confident he could slip through he reached out and grabbed a good handhold before easing his head through. His narrow shoulders, ribcage and abdomen followed suite. His much wider hips worried him for a second, but with a bit of twisting he came free quite suddenly. For a second he hung down by his front paws, until he pulled his hind end up and secured his feet. With one hand he pulled the remaining branches as close together as he could, and used the frayed ends of the one he had chewed through to tie them.
Looking at the end result he was rather pleased. The hole was near the bottom of the net so no one had seen hid form poking out against the covering, and unless one looked closely he was pretty sure his escape route would remain undiscovered for a good amount of time. Craning his head back he watched the ground as it moved past. Here was the moment of truth. He had to jump at just the right moment.
A tree root flashed past, and the squirrel threw caution to the wind and jumped, twisting his body around as he fell. He landed on his front paws and was quick to pull his hind quarters under him and launch himself up onto the trunk. Once he was safely amongst the branches, he turned to look back. His escort, he turned to look back. His escort continued on their course, oblivious to their charge's disappearance.
"Good riddance," he muttered, then looked up at the branches. Considering tree-climbing wasn't a skill he ever boasted of while a human, he assumed that when that shapeshifter changed him, he not only gave him a different form, but the talents and instincts of that form as well. 'Otherwise I'd be on the ground still trying to get up here and attract a lot of attention while failing miserably to do something you'd expect a squirrel to be able to do.'
He chuckled to himself at the mental image his mind presented of him hopping and clawing madly at the trunk of the tree while various creatures laughed at him, Wargs included, before they plucked him up by the scruff of the neck and dropped him right back in that awful cage. He shuddered at the thought.
"Once was enough."
His gaze traveled back the way his guards had come, wondering if he should try to leave the forest and get help for Faramir, or go back and put to ease the lingering feeling of dread he felt as his mind wandered unbidden to the horrible scene he had been taken from ere its conclusion. Could he bear leaving without knowing the outcome?
Ossir sat for a moment. He knew that he should try to find help, but who knew if Roklem had done something terrible to Faramir once through with Legolas? That made up his mind. He had to know at least the fate of one before he could leave.
He crept along the branch, testing his balance. When he could go no further, he carefully gathered himself and jumped. His front feet hit, as did one hind. The other slipped, and he was forced to pause as the wooden limb swayed. He regained control and continued. It was awkward at first to move amongst the trees, but as he had theorized, it began to come second nature within the hour.
The more his confidence grew, the quicker he attempted to move, until he was practically flying through the trees. It was exhilarating! For a moment he forgot the direness of the situation, and simply enjoyed himself. How wondrously free he felt. Could this be how the elves felt when they moved amongst the trees?
His musings were cut off and he stopped short as the word 'elf' crossed his mind. The branch swung with the sudden shift in momentum. 'Legolas…'
Ossir looked around, but of course did not recognize any of his surroundings. He couldn't even be sure he hadn't strayed off course while he had been lost in his thoughts and the strange new freedom he had found from being in the form of a squirrel. Even an attempt at utilizing his heightened sense of smell did little good. All he could smell was a more intense version of Warg, and forest, and other things he could not define. There was one smell, however, that had his fur curling and his bushy tail twitching in fear, though he did not know why.
Something, some sixth sense, told him to jump, and had he not followed it his life would have ended. A dark form streaked past, screaming angrily at having been found out. Back it came after breaking it momentum and wheeling away from the ground. "Foolissh ssqirrel," the hawk hissed. "Do not think you will get away."
Ossir wasted no time in creeping up into the higher branches, careful to stay as flat as he could and not shake them overmuch. When he was close enough he took a flying leap into the next tree. The hawk however was not stupid enough not to try looking in the other trees in the immediate vicinity, so the squirrel's flight was hampered as he played a twisted version of cat and mouse with the creature. Eventually he did manage to get a bit of a lead away from the raptor.
And made his first mistake as a prey animal trying to outsmart a predator.
In the transition from one tree to the next he overestimated the distance between branches, and nearly fell entirely out of the tree as the twigs under his feet gave way, and Ossir fell more than a couple feet before he managed to grab something better able to hold his weight.
The hawk's vision zeroed in on him, and the avian swooped down screeching.
With his hold as precarious already and no chance of pulling himself up and out of the way before he became lunch, Ossir instead took the only other option available to him.
He continued his fall.
Letting go of the branch he had the momentary satisfaction of being able to watch the persistent raptor fly straight into the sharp branches, before it occurred to him that there was nothing underneath him to grab onto. He felt the sickening sensation of seeing the ground rush up at him, and then it was there. The wind was driven from his lungs, and for a moment his vision went dark. Detachedly he observed the hawk disentangle itself from the tree, scratches all over his nares and feathers torn and broken in places, and a fading screech drifted to him as the avian closed his wings tight to his ribs and plunged towards him.
It never even occurred to the squirrel that he was about to die. As his vision faded to black it seemed to him that he saw a lean, shadowy figure jump from somewhere to his right, rising to meet the hawk, as unconsciousness finally took him away.
The last thing Legolas remembered was seeing white. Pure, blinding white. Convinced it was the shores of Valinor and that he would be free of the horrible pain tearing through him, twisting him like leaves it an Autumn breeze, he simply said a general, sorrowed farewell to his friends and family left on Arda, and resigned himself to death.
To his horror, the light faded abruptly, the first feeble rays of dawn in its place. He was still lying on the same rise as before, the pain fading into the shadows of memory. He shifted, for some reason lying on his back felt strange to him. Rolling to his side he became aware of the fact that instead of the familiar feel of elven garb rubbing against his skin, he felt soft fibers. Fibers that pulled at his skin when rubbed against the surface beneath him. The gears began to grind back into motion as the disorienting after effects of the spell wore off. Opening his eyes he saw Roklem's face contorted as he grinned like a fool. Quickly turning away to spare himself that particularly disturbing sight, he looked away, thinking that assessing the damage to himself was a far better pastime.
He wondered if perhaps he'd thought wrong.
The body that he saw when he looked down at himself was not his; it was that of a Grey Fox. For a moment he froze, wondering if it was all just a bad dream. To prove to himself it wasn't real he tried to pinch himself, but to no avail. Not only could those paws not move like hands, but the sharp tips of the claws scratching against his other foreleg felt too real to be a dream.
His head snapped up. "What did you do to me!"
Well, at least his voice still worked.
Roklem's grin faded to a smirk. "I would think that would be fairly obvious, my friend."
Legolas snarled, bearing his teeth, not caring for the moment how animalistic the action was. "Change me back!" he demanded.
"Oh, I don't think so. Besides, you hardly need me for that, Foxy," Roklem closed his book with a snap, turned, and began to walk away, the Wargs following him.
The callous nickname set the already fuming vulpine's blood to a boil. With a low growl he brought himself up into a crouch and sprang, landing on the sorcerer's back and unsheathed his new claws fully, digging them into his back even as he sunk his now razor-sharp teeth into the skin at the junction of the man's shoulder and neck.
Roklem screamed and twisted, reaching behind him and grabbing the scruff of the fox's neck. By the time the Wargs nearest them even took a step to help their master Legolas was flung to the ground, Roklem's fingers cutting off his windpipe.
"I would think twice before doing that again, Fox—he stressed the word—I may have reasons for keeping you alive now, but do not think for a moment that I won't change my mind if you push me," his hand tightened. "Understand?"
Legolas could barely move, his now much smaller body not much of a match for the human. Somehow he managed a nod, and found his breath returned as the punishing fingers left his throat. Coughing a little, he forced himself to his feet and faced the human, who already was walking away once again. "What do you mean, that I don't need you to change back?"
"Be at the clearing before moonrise and I'll show you," the human called over his shoulder. The Wargs flanking him snarled as they passed by, making it clear beyond all doubt what would happen if Legolas tried to press the matter with their master any further, particularly if he went the more violent route of pursuit as he had a moment ago.
The fox growled back. He knew better than to attack again. If nightfall would bring answers then he'd be patient and show up at the clearing again as instructed. For now though he was determined to at least remind these despicable excuses for canines that he wasn't afraid of them.
Bounding a couple short steps to the nearest Warg he leapt nimbly up onto the creature's back. Before it even had time to turn its head he had jumped onto its muzzle and used it as a platform to leap into the nearest tree. For a moment his confidence wavered as he realized that in his new form he'd slightly misjudged the distance to the branch closest to him. It was returned though as his claws came out again and he simply used them to anchor himself a foothold to climb the rest of the way.
The Warg's mind finally processed the fox's actions and it bayed in protest, whirling and jumping repeatedly at the tree's trunk, further infuriated that no matter its efforts, Legolas was already well out of its reach.
Legolas' mouth twitched as he tried to smirk. It didn't quite work, since a fox's muzzle is not meant to carry such an expression, but his eyes got the point across apparently well enough because the Warg understood it well enough to attempt to try tearing the tree down, which it quite well could achieve if it was allowed the chance. The tree was not so big and old to be immune to such danger.
Fortunately such was not to be the case, as Roklem apparently hadn't changed his mind on keeping the former elf alive. At a snap of his fingers three more Wargs about-faced and returned to retrieve their comrade. One ran full tilt into the creature while it was mid-leap, and the others snapped and snarled at its heels. Legolas watched fascinated as it actually acquiesced to the others' demands to leave. Apparently the dominant and submissive labels given to members of a normal wolf pack applied to Wargs as well. To control all of them one merely need control the pack members who were the most dominant, and use them to command the submissive ones, as the one trying to get to the fox apparently was.
Legolas had encountered Wargs many a time, but they were either in a pack or had orcs riding them. Never had he encountered a large number of them being commanded by a single human. He filed the information away for future reference. Once he found a way back to Gondor, anything he found out while here could be used against their new enemies later.
Once the group was gone, Legolas moved to sit down, and was hit with the realization of just what he'd done, and what kind of predicament he faced if he couldn't change back to his true form.
Like this he'd never be able to be of any aid to Aragorn. First off, he couldn't fight in this state. His short-lived attack on Roklem was proof enough. And without his accustomed height he couldn't be anyone's eyes either. Maybe in some situations, but surely now he'd discover times where being this close to the ground would become a detriment he couldn't avoid. Not only that, but how difficult would it be for him to get into the palace? Or even just through the city? And even if he could get near anyone he knew, how could he make them believe it was him? Could they still understand his voice, or was it only Roklem, being the one who cast the spell, who was capable of interpreting his speech?
And what about his behavior just now? True he'd never been faced with such a thing as being transformed into an animal, but just how much of that animal's instincts and mannerisms did he take on? He had to have taken on some, considering the stunts he'd just pulled, but where they just something incorporated in with his usual elvish mannerisms and instincts, or could they possibly take over those with time and use, or something equally as dreadful. Would they stay once he'd changed back, or would they disappear?
And why a fox? What did Roklem stand to gain by changing him into a fox, then leaving him to roam around free? And how did Faramir, Ossir, and the Haradrim figure in? Roklem said he'd only wanted the Steward, so why go through all the trouble and separate to keep both Ossir and himself when only he was needed to control Faramir?
Somewhere in the whirlwind Legolas' thoughts had become, his mind registered the cry of a hawk. Automatically, his ears went from half mast, to fully perked. Looking up, turned his head in the direction the sound came from.
Through the trees he saw a grey squirrel leap to avoid a hawk's attack and miss the branch it was aiming for, giving a very human yell as it fell.
TBC…
A/N: Finally that's done. Review responses will be on my Livejournal page probably tomorrow night, since I've got a wicked headache and don't know how much longer I can stay awake. Once again I apologize for the ridiculously long wait in between updates, and I can assure you that it won't happen again, even if I have to post one page chapters. Not that I will if I can at all avoid it. Nevertheless, once again I thank all of you for your wonderful reviews that kept me from abandoning this when it became a serious consideration at one point. You all rock.
Keep sending them.
