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Chapter Two: Of Wolves and Rangers

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"I hide behind these eyes of mine,

Cause they protect me from the world

And I don't know what I'm missing,

Cause I never have been told.

And when I reach inside of me,

I want more than emptiness

I want to feel that something's there,

Though I can't tell what it is."

-Stoked

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He'd been traveling for weeks. He was tired, hungry, cold, and he was still leagues from the Hidden Valley. He just wanted to rest. It was why he was headed there: It was home, and would always be so to him. A haven of elves, and he a human. It oftentimes seemed strange to other elves, those of Greenwood or Lorien, for example, that the infinitely wise Lord of Rivendell would take in a foster son out of the Edain race, Dunedain blood or no. It was out of the ordinary, but then again, he wasn't exactly an ordinary Ranger.

It'd been years since he'd ridden back into the courtyard of the Last Homely House with his twin "brothers", both elves. His father had taken him aside, and his life took an abrupt turn as he learned of his royal heritage. He was desperate to sort out his stormy emotions, as well as the complicated angle presented by his new-found love of Arwen, Elrond's daughter and princess of Imladris.

And he'd thought things could not become more complicated.

Well, he'd been wrong before. In his turmoil, he'd joined the rangers, and had wandered far and long with them ever since. Evil creatures were crawling out of their shadowed caves right and left, in a wave of darkness unseen since before the Last Alliance. As such, the Dunedain had been hard pressed to keep them at bay, and had received precious little rest in over three years. As Aragorn tried to convince himself, he was long overdue a visit home.

However, nature it seemed, was intent on conspiring against that particular plan.

He'd altered his course drastically to allow for shelter from the western winds that threatened to blow him off his feet, and had since wandered into an area unfamiliar to him. Unfortunately, it was also one of the few blank areas on the worn map folded into his pack. The first flakes of snow were beginning to sting his face, and it didn't take him long to realize that he would quickly be in deep trouble. Winter came swift and harsh in these lands, and any soul unfortunate enough to be caught in it, especially in the initial onslaught, was shown no mercy. And traveling alone in a merciless land was the next closest thing to inviting death.

Strider, Ranger of the north, Estel, adopted son of Elrond, and Aragorn son of Arathorn, future King of men, did not plan on dying any time soon.

Gripping the sheathed hilt of the long sword at his belt in one hand and pulling his whipping cloak tighter about him with the other, he stoically trudged on into the deepening chill.

Somewhere in the distance, a wolf's haunting cry split the night.

Strange— Aragorn frowned. That sound came... from beneath me. But that's not possible—

And then he was falling.

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Legolas froze, his head snapping up as a wolf's call echoed through the forest, its source close enough to chill his blood.

They were hunting. But what was to say that they weren't hunting him?

Assessing the situation took all of an instant, and then he pulled his staff close to his body and took off lightly up the slope. Wolves were more reluctant to follow to high ground, but this way the wind was also in their favor. He was headed up a narrow box canyon that knifed up out of the valley, and here the cliffs sloped at such an angle that they were nearly touching at the top. Short, gnarled trees and dense shrubs grew at the peaks, so that even in broad daylight, very little light ever reached the canyon floor. At the very end, a thundering cascade of water gushed out of the rock wall halfway up the cliff, pooling below and forming the river that flowed into the lake in the bowl of the valley.

This shady haven had long been another sanctuary to Legolas, especially since, for some reason, the wolves seemed content to avoid it, even if it meant giving up a chase. Tonight, however, they must have been hungry, for their signaling calls followed him as he fled up the valley, his long strides and surefootedness no longer hampered by his physical impediment. In this place, sight was irrelevant to survival, but strength, wit, and endurance were vital.

He was brought up short by an alarmed cry from somewhere far above him, and the shock of hearing a sound… nay, a voice, from another living being after so long, caught him off guard. The next thing he knew, a heavy weight caught him full in the back, and his chest slammed into the rocks below with enough force to drive the air from his body.

Though his lungs felt paralyzed, he rolled instinctively, trying to get rid of the wolf on his back, and another took that moment to latch onto his left calf. His most immediate threat snarled and snapped for his throat, but it was an easy matter of bringing his knees up beneath it and kicking it off. The one on his leg pulled away after a harsh kick to the muzzle. Legolas knew he was simply lucky that these two had been ahead of the others, for if they had brought him down amongst the whole pack, he would have assuredly been dead by now.

Even as he began running again, he heard the splash as whoever had fallen hit the lake. It had taken a bit longer than it should have for the creature to drop to the canyon floor, so he guessed the being had managed to break his fall slightly by grabbing at the foliage around him as he fell. That gave him less to worry about, since he had a slight chance that the stranger was still conscious.

On his part, there was no question in Legolas' mind that he should help this person. He didn't care who they were, and he certainly wasn't naïve enough to hope that this one amongst a million would overlook the elf's disability simply for the sake of having saved his life. Because in his own life, Legolas had saved countless others, and rarely, if ever, had he ever seen some form of gratitude in return. But as a warrior he had gotten used to it. Now… He couldn't even save another's life, never mind being thanked for it.

And yet, he thought, that might have changed. Once again, he had a chance to make a difference. And by the Valar, he wasn't going to waste it.

He had reached the end of the valley by now, where the footing was composed of large boulders, wet with the mist from the falls. For an elf, it shouldn't have been hard, but Legolas knew that with his disability, he needed to keep every sense trained on keeping his footing, or it would be death for both he and whoever else was out there.

He paused at the edge of the lake, straining to feel the stranger's presence over the rush of the falls. The wolves were gaining, and he pulled out his dagger to meet the threat behind him even as he scanned the darkness before.

"Where are you?" He called out at last as he waded out into the lake. The wolves were nearly upon him. The sound of his own voice was odd in his ears. At one time, he had spoken to himself and the animals around him, but he had given that up long since. It was nothing compared to the sound of another's voice, however, and he presently heard a moan from somewhere in front of him. That was all the incentive he needed. Shoving the dagger back into his belt, he pushed off and with strong, sure strokes, quickly reached the limp form that floated in the water.

The man was clearly human, and barely conscious, but Legolas had no time to ponder this. Several of the wolves had entered the water behind him, and others were bounding back around to cut him off on the other side of the lake.

Swiftly, he swung the man around so that the brunt of his weight was floating, and just his shoulders were on Legolas' back as he hooked the human's arms around his neck.

"Hang on!" He commanded as he began to swim, but there was only a weak response. At least that was something. If the human wasn't able to hang on under his own power, they were both as good as dinner for the wolves… Speaking of which, they did not have much time for avoiding these.

The effort it took to swim was nearly tripled by the additional burden, and by the time they reached the mouth of the river, Legolas was breathless. Stripping the man of his cloak, he left it on the bank, since the additional weight of the waterlogged cloth would only slow them down. He considered leaving the man's pack as well, but he wasn't sure if he carried anything valuable. If that were the case, and the pack were to be destroyed by the wolves, when the man came to his senses he would very likely be just as infuriated with Legolas as he might be grateful for having saved his life.

At first, the elf tried to heft the man up onto his own two feet, supporting him with one arm pulled over his shoulder, but the human quickly buckled. They were dearly close to being out of time. Grinding his teeth, Legolas stooped and pulled the man over both shoulders.

The ranger's weight was astounding, but the elf managed to ignore it as he broke into a jog. One of the wolves had found the man's cloak, and the entire pack had ceased their pursuit to tear at it. That bought the two some extra time, but Legolas knew it was only temporary, and would never be enough to get back to the Oak. He mentally cursed his own stupidity for leaving behind his bow. At least he still retained his staff in its tube on his back, and his dagger. If it came down to it, he could fight with either of those. But first, he had to decide on a course of action, and quickly.

It wasn't much of a contest, and he swiftly altered course for the small cave just outside the mouth of the canyon. It wasn't far, and within moments he was pulling the now unconscious human through the narrow entrance, which widened into a small chamber deep inside the cliff wall. Whatever the claustrophobic properties of the place, it had been carved out by water long ago, and so poised no threat as far as cave-ins were concerned.

Propping the human up against the wall and discarding his own cloak, Legolas quickly returned to the cave entrance. It was narrow enough that only one wolf could advance at a time, and he hoped he might be able to fight them off long enough to convince them to take their pleasure elsewhere. It had worked before, although he had rarely had cause to tangle with such creatures in his travels. It was only the third time he'd ever been threatened in the valley.

The wolves themselves seemed content to pace in a circle outside the cave and wait for their intended prey to emerge. Just to be sure of their intended stratagem, Legolas waited several minutes, before choosing his dagger, and with careful concentration, mentally targeting the pack leader as it paced routinely in front of the cave. Waiting for it to complete its circuit and begin to turn, Legolas hurled the dagger. Its wet impact easily distinguished its accuracy, and the pack quickly scattered as their leader fell, its breath gurgling around the hole in the beast's throat as it fought death's throes.

Pleasantly surprised at this unanticipated ease of victory, Legolas waited cautiously for their return, but it seemed that they were content with the loss of just one in their efforts. Relieved, and now newly aware of his wounds and exhaustion, he retrieved his dagger. He contemplated just leaving the carcass where it was, but he knew it would be wasteful. He was never in want, but he had learned to stay that way by taking advantage of every natural resource made available to him. He dragged it close to the entrance for safety, and with speed born of practice, quickly skinned the animal and tucked the pelt into his leather belt. He threw the remaining pieces into the woods, and again drew the human's bulk onto his aching shoulders.

By the time the two had reached the Oak, it was snowing lightly, but picking up volume by the minute. Legolas' hands were numb, and his clothes caked with ice. Barring the door securely behind him and dropping the wolf pelt on the floor for later treatment, he somehow managed to get the man up the ladder with strength born of pure will.

He was completely drained as he collapsed in front of the waning fire, but he knew the human was still in need. He pulled a blanket off the pine-bough bed and spread it on the hearth, where he laid the human and carefully stripped him of shirt, tunic and boots.

His movements were lethargic and slow with exhaustion, but he knew it was now that he had to pay careful attention, lest he make a mistake in his detached state. Without sight, he could not afford to be distracted. Spreading the human's clothes and the contents of his pack out on the hearth across the fire from the unconscious man, he placed several logs on the fire, and then finally allowed himself to slide down the far wall into a sitting position. Even from here, he could feel the warmth of the newly blazing fire, and if the temperature waned, he would awaken.

Even as he told this to himself, his eyes slipped shut, and his hands went limp on the staff across his knees.

Outside, the wind continued howling.

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Warmth. It was a surprisingly pleasant feeling to wake up to after so long in the wilds. At first, his sleep-fogged mind told him he was back in the Hall of Fire in Rivendell, where the bards and minstrels told songs and sang stories long into the early hours of the morning, and he and his brothers would fall asleep by the fire, listening. The first thing that he realized to discount this was the fact that there was no music. Only the comforting crackle of the fire close to him disturbed his thoughts, and then the distraction was welcome.

Slowly, he let his eyes slide open, lighting at once upon the hypnotic weave of the flames before him. But what had happened? He was falling— Memories rushed back, and then he was fully awake. He had fallen, he remembered that much. And then he had struck something: water, he thought it was. There had been a voice, and he had wanted so badly to answer, but he couldn't seem to make his voice work. And then a pair of hands, gentle and strong…. And then nothing.

He blinked twice, with full recollection—if it could be called that—and studied the ceiling. It was of an odd texture, since it seemed to be made of one smooth piece of wood… But that was impossible. With some difficult, he propped his elbows up beneath him, lifting his head and shoulders off the ground to look around him. The room he was in was… not a room, he realized at length with amazement. He was in a tree. Sitting up completely, he gingerly examined himself. He wore only his breeches, and his body felt like one enormous bruise, but amazingly, he had no sprains, broken bones, or other more serious injuries.

He stood gingerly, and was glad to find he could walk with little or no trouble once he was fully awake, and set about exploring the room fully. It was… amazing, to say the least. There was a table made entirely of branches and tied with peeled bark, and shelves made the same way, stocked with every kind of natural food. Some he hadn't even known were edible. There were two knotholes in the walls, one on each side of the room, and both were covered with makeshift cloth and branch shutters, through which the air outside was a sheet of white snow and biting wind.

After donning his dry tunic and repacking his bag, the contents of which now also being dry, he found a vine and branch ladder on one side of the room leading to a hatch above. He hesitated only briefly before climbing up to investigate. The room above was small and dark, and he was inclined to descend the ladder once more for a firebrand. Upon closer exploration, he found it to be some form of bedroom.

A neat bed of pine, much like the one below, stood next to a low table made of a flat tree stump. On this lay two long, ivory-handled knives, and an assortment of small throwing and hunting daggers. These were all of exquisite craftsmanship, and Aragorn found himself rather surprised to realize that whoever his mysterious host might be, he was obviously no stranger to weapons. In addition to these things was a pack of clothes in one corner beside a long, slender bow and quiver, the latter well-stocked with hand-fletched arrows.

Curious and a little awed by the mysterious host he had yet to catch a glimpse of, the ranger quickly retreated back to the fire, under the distinct impression that whoever this man was, he would be very likely to not welcome a stranger prowling about in his private affairs.

Nearly two hours passed, with nothing occurring more interesting than the fire running low. Aragorn, glad to be moving about in some form or another, took his time in adding logs from the neat stack against the wall. He was beginning to wonder if the man from his memory even existed at all, and this was merely some dream, or even a vision from the Valar. He might be in a coma for all he knew, or even dead.

This fantasy was not to last however, since, just as he began to nod off once more, he was startled as a hatch in the floor banged open. The trapdoor had been in an empty corner, and until it was opened, Aragorn hadn't even realized it was there.

His shock was complete, when, instead of a man, an elf emerged, his long, golden hair flowing past his shoulders. He wore earth-hued tones, and the warriors braids that held his hair back clearly defined his gently peaked ears. A tube of leather on his back held a long, smooth wood staff.

Feeling suddenly awkward, the ranger stood to help, since the elf, still oblivious to the human's wakefulness, was struggling with a load of firewood as he tried to manage an five logs in one arm and the ladder with the other.

"May I be of assistance?" He asked softly as he knelt, reaching out to help.

To Aragorn's surprise, the elf started violently, nearly dropping the entire load before Aragorn managed to grip two of them and set them on the floor. The elf didn't say anything but swore under his breath as, relieved of his burden, he was free to grip the ladder with both hands.

"Yes, you may be of assistance in fact. You may refrain from doing that again…" He growled.

"I—I'm sorry…" Aragorn quickly tried to apologize, offering his hand to pull the elf up. "I thought you knew I was there."

Both his offer and apology were ignored, although the being seemed to struggle to make it up on his own. It was only after the elf shut the trapdoor and stood to face him, brushing off his tunic, that he nodded curtly and brushed past him, still not making eye contact.

"Uh—" Aragorn was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable as he scooped up the forgotten logs and added them to the original stack. "I, um… Suppose I owe you my life. I don't know how to thank you—"

"Don't bother."

Aragorn blinked. "Well then—"

The elf sighed, turning towards him and stopping him from speaking with an upheld hand. "Forgive me. I don't mean to seem rude." He hesitated, passing one slender hand over his eyes. "It's just… been a long night."

Aragorn had once been told by a fellow ranger that he could make friends with a rabid Warg, but at that moment, he felt anything but confident in making any progress towards this strange creature. His human, childish side was bursting with questions and curiosity, but the adult, ranger side of him needed to repay everything this stranger had done for him.

"Don't mention it." He finally shrugged. "I think… we merely started out the wrong way. I am Strider, of the Dunedain." He grinned, offering his hand and praying that it would be accepted.

The elf smiled slightly back, but made no move to take the truce. "Legolas."

Aragorn shrugged and dropped his hand. Well, at least he'd smiled…kind of. That had to be a start.

"Of?" The human prompted good-naturedly as he sat cross-legged on the hearth.

"Just Legolas." Came the clipped response as the elf turned away, with no offer of explanation. "Do you eat deer?"

Aragorn nodded, and then realized the elf couldn't see him with his back turned. "Yes. Again, you have my eternal thanks for all you've done—"

"And again, you don't have to bother." Legolas returned as he constructed a spit over the fire, leaving several strips of venison to roast.

"Do you—" He began, and then switched questions. "Do you mind me speaking?"

Another unconvincing half-smile as the elf handed him a water skin, and seated himself across the fire from the human. "No, I don't. But to save you the trouble, I will answer your questions now. Yes, I am an elf. Yes, I live here, yes, alone, yes, in the middle of nowhere, and no, the snow will not have let up by tomorrow. My guess is that is will continue snowing at least two days more."

Aragorn could only blink.

"Was there anything else?"

"I, uh…" Aragorn shifted uncomfortably. "If there's any way I can repay you… For all—"

"There isn't, so don't worry yourself with trying." At last, a hint of amusement in the elf's voice. That was progress. "Where are you from, Strider?"

"I—" He hesitated. "I was encamped with the rangers in the Brown lands, and was on my way across the mountains when the storm hit. I guess I must have stumbled over a cliff around here… I'm still not sure exactly what happened."

"Yes, you fell— into a lake thankfully. If you're wondering what happened next, I pulled you out and brought you back here."

"What about the wolves?" Aragorn asked, intentionally catching the elf off guard.

Legolas looked up sharply, studying the human's face for a moment.

"I heard them chasing you before I blacked out." Aragorn explained.

It was still a moment before the elf answered defensively. "I—they were no trouble." He quickly switched topics." On the other hand, you had quite a fall. Are… you alright?"

"What?" Aragorn frowned momentarily, and then remembered that he had been unconsciousness. "Oh, yes. Nothing bruised more than my ego." That wasn't exactly true, but the initial soreness really had worn out and the dull ache that remained had faded to nothing more than a distraction.

Legolas nodded, shifting forward to turn the sizzling meat.

"And you?" The human returned, noticing now the elf's painful movements and bloodied tunic.

Legolas stiffened. "I'm fine." His words were clipped and booked no argument.

Aragorn sighed, but thought better of saying anything to the contrary, however obvious, and instead turned towards the covered window. "How long will the storm last, by you?"

"No more than two days." The elf repeated as he removed the meat from the spit and passed it on a bark platter to the man. "And yes, after that you should have time to leave before the snows hit again. If you are seeking a way across the mountains, however, the path to them from here is long and difficult. You should head southeast until you reach the Old Forest Road, and from there West across the mountains to the Loudwater. I assume you live in Bree, or Archet? Close abound there?"

"Well, I travel there often," Aragorn groped, unsure of what he should say. "But I don't exactly live there. Your advice, however, is much appreciated."

There was a long, awkward silence between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire as it licked at the burning logs. Legolas crouched across the hearth and prodded randomly at the flames with a branch, more than content to ignore his human companion.

Aragorn, on his part, was becoming ever more curious about this reclusive, enigmatic elf who dodged all of his questions at the same time that he answered them. He never looked Aragorn in the eye, and he refused to come anywhere near him. The human knew it might be all in his own mind, but he had the distinct impression that there was more to the woodland being than first met the eye.

Outside, the wind howled mournfully.

Eventually Legolas sighed, rocking back on his heels. "The truth is, human," He admitted bluntly, "that I don't want you here anymore you want to be here. You're young, and obviously have a lot to learn. Your thanks is appreciated but unnecessary, because in this life, you're never going to be thanked for helping someone. That's just the fact of it. And people aren't always going to be kind to you either. The only reason that I didn't just leave you out there in the cold for the wolves is that I know what that's like, and no man or elf deserves that. You'll be on your way in a day or two, you'll never hear of me again, and the less you know about me the better. So don't get comfortable."

Finishing, he stood and threw the stick into the fire, and, nodding at Aragorn, climbed the ladder to the small room above.

"If you need anything, help yourself." The elf called down once he was out of sight. "If the tree is burning down, you know where to find me."

Aragorn cringed as the hatch slammed shut, and the chamber was quiet once more. Sighing heavily, he stretched out on his stomach and let his chin rest on his forearms as he stared into the fire. He wasn't sure how he'd managed to get off on the wrong foot with this strange elf, but he had no intention of leaving things as they were.

Maybe he did ask too many questions.

He smiled at this, as it brought back memories of his father and brothers, the twins having informed him of this countless times over the years. How he missed them both. And Elrond. His smile faded with memory. If Lord Elrond had been there, he would know exactly what to do, and exactly how to reach out to this lonely being.

He might not be his foster-father, but tomorrow, he swore, he would do his best to try.

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Reviewer Responses:

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Aisu Dragoness: You'll have to wait and see! Thanks for reviewing!

viggomaniac: Thanks for the compliment and the review!

Spewilicious: Yeah, I had fun experimenting with Legolas' blindness. I guess it's kind of a trend now though, and a popular one with Nightwing6's story out there, but I've had the first part of this written for forever. I will try to stay away from the norm, though. Thanks for reviewing!

Keji: Thanks, I'm glad you like this! This series is going to be kind of my LotR Fanfic masterpiece, so I am devoting a lot of time and effort to it. The good thing, though, is that this story is already entirely complete! All I have to do is move my lazy butt and upload the chapters, lol. Yeah, I love Legolas angst too! I'll try to give Aragorn his fair share, but I'm afraid this entire series will probably favor everyone's favorite elf just a little bit more! Thanks for the review!

Legolass Q: Hey there, thanks for reviewing! I'm glad my story is an exception, but who said anything about a sad ending? (evil grin) Good to hear from you!

Bill The Pony2: Well, I'm glad my story doesn't put you to sleep! That's a good sign, right? Lol, Thanks for the review!

shireling: Thanks for reviewing, and I'm glad you like my writing! Likewise, I really enjoyed your review--I love it when people tell me exactly what they liked (or didn't) about the story instead of something really general. Hope you keep reading!

Redleef: Aragorn is officially into the story! I'd be careful calling Legolas' father a jerk if I were you-- "Even the very wise cannot see all ends..." And you'll have to wait and see if Legolas can shoot--because I'm evil that way! Lol, thanks for reviewing!

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Also many thanks to:

SpaceRoses

Ilaaris

Tommylover

horsiegurl

Twilight Unicorn

DarkStarofMirkWood

slytherin-rox-my-sox

theo darkstar

Twilight Shadow

silverkonekotsukari

Elflingimp

Dee69

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Thank you one and all for dropping in, and I hope to see you next update!

Toodles!

-Skande