Scars Chapter 3- Fanning the Flames
*
*
*
Disclaimer: This story is being written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.
*
*
*
Author's Note: Thank you all for your kind feedback regarding my story. As always, it has been greatly appreciated. I like to post a warning that this current chapter, though not real dark, does contain a few images that might prove disturbing to some. I hope, however, that you will enjoy what follows. :)
*
*
*
Within moments after the second declaration was heard within the Dunedain encampment, a storm of activity ignited amongst its occupants. Rangers rushed about quickly garnering supply, strapping on weapons, and making ready their mounts. For three leagues away to the North, a fire raged, and though none spoke of it, fear coursed through this group of Men. A fear that with each passing second precious lives could be lost. Legolas, Elladan, and Elrohir stood in wait as Aragorn hurried off to give direction to the Men now scrambling about him. But the three Elves did not remain reticent for long as they reacted in kind, rearming themselves in haste before seeking to remount their recently tethered horses. In mere minutes, a battalion of readied riders galloped off toward the North equipped to face whatever misfortune that might lay in their wake.
Both the mist laden terrain they traveled across and the overgrown hinterland they pushed through worked toward hindering their progress. While the thunder of numerous hooves upon the dampened, mud caked ground forsook any chance that their arrival upon the scene would go unheralded. But as their approach neared the burning fires before them, the Elves observed the Rangers breaking into two separate groups. One, led by Eadred, appeared ready to circumvent the conflagration completely as he steered his contingent toward the East. While the remaining Rangers, under Aragorn's command, continued their steady advance northward. Left without directive, Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas were in wont to remain with Aragorn and followed after him at full speed toward whatever lay ahead.
Torrid winds, bearing tidings of scorched conditions, swept toward this latter group. While the finger of flourishing heat, from the flaring fire just ahead, stretched forward cunningly to draw them further into its fray. The acrid smoke threatened to choke them as it seeped forward . Its swirling haze, making the spectacle now emerging in front of them resemble more night than day. Both Men and Elves were forced to draw their cloaks tightly about their mouths and faces to retaliate against its smoldering effects. But their unprotected eyes bore the brunt of its reproof as many, if not all, began welling up with burning tears. Still this did not hold any of the riders back as they finally converged upon what appeared to be the remnants of a small hamlet now engulfed in flames.
Quickly the group dismounted restraining their horses a safe distance away from the roaring flames, but close enough so as not to become fair game to any remaining interlopers that might be skulking in the vicinity. Deftly regrouping, they waited for instruction from their Chieftain before immediately dispersing once again to deal with the spreading fires and to look for any in want of rescue or succor. Aragorn's brothers and Legolas awaited his directive also as he called out to them to find buckets and water with which to douse the flames. Heavy smoke hindered their search, burning their throats and searing at their fair flesh, but they pushed onward seeking the location of the village's well.
Chaos lay about them. The thatched roofs of homes and outbuildings were ablaze. Falling embers littered the sky. Pieces of charred buildings were collapsing about them. But the sight of the village's well finally came into view. Elrohir stumbled against its stone enclosure to lower a bucket while the smoke's hovering effects endeavored to slow his actions.
Elladan pulled his cloak even farther up to protect his face though the action hindered the speed of his progress. The thickening smoke, however, was just too overwhelming. Even through his cloak it threatened to fill his lungs and he coughed in sudden reaction.
He felt a hand upon his shoulder and turning to find out to whom it belonged to, he discovered Legolas there beside him. The Silvan Elf's fair countenance appeared tainted by the raging heat, but that did not stop him from reacting to the situation. Withdrawing one of his blades, he quickly sliced through a hanging length of his outer mantle. Then reaching forward toward the filled bucket now within Elrohir's grasp, he wet the cloth before passing it to Elladan. "Here, tie this about your nose and mouth! It will help with the smoke!" He choked out.
Elladan quickly complied as his furiously tearing eyes watched while his fair-haired friend offered similar such comfort to his younger brother before endowing himself with the same means of relief. Then the three elves turned and moved toward a burning building in their midst and attempted to extinguish its rising flames. Within minutes, as they carried on their relentless pursuit, the water laden cloths that Legolas had provided them with now steamed from the heat surrounding them, hampering their effect toward providing relief against the choking smoke.
Suddenly the wall of the farmstead they had been washing down now crackled and popped in imminent warning before it pitched outward as the roof above it gave way and collapsed inward. Radiating embers sprayed out toward the Elves igniting whatever flammable material they came in contact with. One such burning spark landed upon the remnants of Legolas' cloak, catching quickly.
Throwing their arms up about their faces in defense against the shooting flames, the threesome backed cautiously away unaware of the crucial circumstance setting itself into motion. At first the Silvan Elf did not feel the flaring effects upon him, believing that the soaring fire around them was still the cause of his present discomfort, but as the cloth ignited further, a searing heat assaulted his senses until at last he heard Elladan's alarmed cry of warning.
"Legolas! Your cloak is on fire!"
Immediately, he felt the arms of another thrown about him as he was dragged down toward the ground and rolled over. His burning cloak was enclosed within the folds of some larger covering while the flames were patted down and finally extinguished. Trouble roughened breaths filled his ears as the figure, which was previously atop of him, finally rolled to his side and Legolas was at last able to view his savior.
Elrohir lay to his right gasping for breath and not immune from his attempts at rescue. The raven-haired Elf drew red and blistered hands toward his body in shocked reaction. The cuffs of his tunic were now charred from the flames he had sought to put out. Immediately Elladan was beside his twin. His eyes now wide with alarm as he noted his brother's injuries. Legolas reached an arm forward to boost himself upward in an attempt to join his friend. But as he put weight upon his arms, his own back rioted against him in a jolting wave of pain. Trying to ignore its debilitating effects, he struggled once again only to find his efforts halted as another arrived upon the scene.
Suddenly arms were about him yet again attempting to drag him further away from the melee erupting around them. The Silvan Elf could not stifle the groan of pain that surfaced at their contact. Immediately the arms around him eased their claim as a voice spoke out reassuringly to him. "Relax, Legolas," Aragorn urged him. "Tell me where you are hurt, mellon-nin, so I do not harm you further!" Aragorn's roughened voice beseeched into his ear.
"It's my back . . . " The elf stuttered, the shock and the pain of the moment cutting off his efforts to communicate more effectively.
"Rest against me, mellon-nin. I will not hurt you again!" Noting his brother was injured as well, Aragorn turned to Elladan .
"Quickly, Elladan! Follow me! We must get them away from the spreading flames! Follow me toward that stance of trees. We can tend to them there!"
Gingerly Aragorn grasped Legolas beneath his arms, doing his best to maneuver the Elf without causing him further pain. Then sliding his bulk toward him, he lifted the archer so his stomach rested against his one shoulder before securing one arm around the back of Legolas's legs and lifting him gently upward. Elladan was equally careful in handling his ailing brother. Looping his arm around his twin, he carefully guided him away from the raging conflagration toward safety.
When they reached the site Aragorn had gestured to, the Man cautiously lowered Legolas to the ground laying him on his stomach upon some tender brush. Elladan led Elrohir to a nearby tree. There he leaned his younger twin's weight against its trunk before taking his brother's ailing hands into his own being careful not to touch his blistering wounds. Aragorn's commanding voice broke into his thoughts.
"Quick! Get some water, Elladan!" We must bathe Elrohir's hands and then wrap them. The burns are bad, but if we cleanse them thoroughly and bind them the chances of infection setting in will lessen. We'll need to do the same for Legolas' back!"
Elladan hesitated only briefly as he pulled his own cloak once again about his face and headed back in the direction of the well. Aragorn glanced briefly at Elrohir. He knew his brother was in great pain, though the elf spoke up comfortingly.
"I will be fine, Estel. See to Legolas. I fear the burns he has sustained might be worse than my own, though I pray my concerns will be unfounded."
Aragorn's grey eyes glinted from the unselfish emotion he now witnessed from his Elven brother. Elrohir was right, and the Human feared the damage he might reveal beneath the charred remains of his friend's cloak and tunic. Even Legolas's long blonde hair had not gone untouched by the fire's fiery claim as Aragorn softly brushed aside some of the singed strands. Then taking his hunting knife, he deftly began cutting away the remaining garments that covered his friend. Legolas had not spoken since Aragorn had moved him away from the flames, except for a few deep moans of pain. The Ranger's lips compressed tightly as he did his best to remain detached from the aid he was providing to his dearest friend. He could not allow his emotions to get in the way of his healing as he continued severing the material while he was careful not to graze the injured flesh beneath it nor pull any part of the clothing that might be adhered to the Elf's wounds. His concentration was so focused upon his task that he did not detect Elladan's return to their location. The Man breathed a deep sigh of relief, when he finally exposed the extent of Legolas' burns. Though red and angry with some blistering especially around the Elf's shoulders, Legolas's undergarment had saved the Firstborn from more devastating consequence. In time with rest and proper treatment, the Silvan Elf would make a full recovery. For now, however, Aragorn would need to clean and wrap his wounds also to prevent the spread of infection. And in time, he would provide both his brother and Legolas with a soothing balm to deal with the pain and the itchiness they would experience from their hurts. As he reached toward the water that Elladan had brought to him, he began cleansing Legolas' back, while Elladan did the same to Elrohir's hands. He knew his actions must have wrought pain, because the Silvan Elf began stirring beneath him. Soothingly he spoke out.
"Rest, Legolas. You have been injured, but all will be well. I am seeing to your wounds. Though painful, they shall heal in time. Try to remain still, my friend. It will lessen the distress you are feeling and will aid me in my attempts to wash and bind your wounds."
"The wall . . . " Legolas began stiltedly before a flurry of memories came rushing back to him and he exclaimed anxiously, "Elrohir! He saved me, but he was hurt also!" Immediately the fair-haired Elf tried to push himself upward upon his arms to go in search of his long time friend from Rivendell.
But Aragorn restrained him gently. "Be at peace, Legolas. Elrohir will be fine too! Though his hands are blistered from the heat, Elladan is attending to him. He will recover in time along with you. But for now my friend you must rest! Please listen to me and do not resist my counsel."
"Elrohir?" The disoriented Elf called out again.
"I will be fine, my friend." The raven-haired Elf assured, albeit tautly, as his brother continued to administer to him as well. "Though I shan't be able to use my hands for sometime."
"I am sorry . . . " Legolas began to mutter.
"Nonsense! Do not upset yourself so, Legolas! I would do it all again knowing that you are now safe."
"You shouldn't have . . . " The injured Elf's voice trailed off as his shocked system began to succumb to the alluring appeal of sleep.
"But I'm glad he did." Aragorn murmured gently as he applied the last of the dressings to his friends ailing back thankful that both his brother and friend would soon recover.
Turning his attentions to his brothers beside him, he made to offer his assistance to Elladan in wrapping Elrohir's hands, though his knew his brother was quite capable in proceeding without his added help. Before he could speak up, however, Halfdan approached their group. His face was now blackened by the soot of the subsiding flames. His grim features spoke volumes of the devastation that lay within the fire's wake, but his first words were those of concern toward the two injured Elves. "How do your friends fare, Strider?"
"They shall mend, Halfdan." Aragorn answered directly.
"That is good news," The solemn Ranger replied as he tried his best to smile at this report. His efforts did not reach his eyes, however, which conveyed the seriousness of the situation still at hand to the one in front of him as he continued on. "I do not mean to disturb you, but . . . " The Ranger began.
"No, it was right of you to come," retorted Aragorn. Then turning to the elder twin, he responded reluctantly. "My presence is needed elsewhere, Elladan. But please, call me if those within your attendance are in want of succor." His grey eyes spoke of an unwillingness to leave the group about him so soon, but the Ranger felt compelled to rejoin the rescue efforts. And standing up, he followed Halfdan's retreating figure.
Elladan's watery gaze panned the still smoking vista. The worst of the fire had now been beaten back and mostly just remnants of a smoldering haze still encompassed the environ.
Finally the eeriness of the now quieting environment took a strong hold upon the remaining Dunedain. Never once while combating the earlier raging flames had they encountered anyone amongst the populace of this hamlet attempting to wash down its houses or barns. No shouts of frustration or desperation had rung out through the air to greet their approach. In fact, there had been no activity at all save the growing flames. Then a chilling confirmation became readily apparent throughout the atmosphere surrounding them as they realized that not only was the air about them polluted with the lingering odor of smoke, but that the stench of burning flesh now met them as well. Any hope that this village once held was now forsaken as it lay in ever growing ruin about their feet.
Still this did not distract the Dunedain as they began searching through the rubble for any sign of life. As buildings were continued being doused down and the few remaining fires put out, growing and unmistakable evidence of the pillage this hamlet suffered became known to its unsuccessful rescuers. Once licking flames, now only smoldered as their strength was suppressed. Scorched timbers groaned under the weight of damaged supports. But what proved most daunting was the wind. No longer choked with smoke, it now worked toward sweeping clear any lingering trace of haze and revealing more clearly to those present the death and destruction surrounding them.
Charred livestock laid strewn upon the streets. Some killed by the receding fires, whereas others were indisputably slaughtered by marauders, who must have ransacked this small village. The telltale signs of how these dead animals were hewn apart were visibly evident. Vestiges of household implements, shards of pottery, and smoldering furnishing lay littering the modest town square. But it was those, who lay within the scorched interiors of these farmsteads, that sought to wrench at the heartstrings of even the stoniest of these Men. For as the glowing embers cooled sufficiently enough to allow them access into the ruined remains, they were aggrieved to find more of the same. Only this time instead of animal carcasses, they uncovered the bodies of men, women and children burned beyond recognition. They, like their livestock, did not remain untouched by the enemies' hands or weaponry, and sorely it became apparent that none survived in the wake of this onslaught.
Grimly Aragorn was alerted to each and every finding as the numbers of casualties only grew. Solemnly he walked the grounds of the destruction that now lay about him as his thoughts turned to Eadred. He wondered what his fellow Ranger's contingent might uncover as his right hand clenched into a fist of frustration. Today's death and destruction had been the worse they had encountered thus far. It worried the Dunadan that the minions of the enemy were able to move so adroitly through the surrounding hinterlands, and might continue to do so until they were able to discover their launching point. 'Surely such ransacking could not originate from the footholds along the Misty Mountains? Such distances would surely hamper their successfulness in carrying out these raids? No,' disquiet filled the Man's head as his thoughts turned. 'They must have an ally closer by. Someone supporting their cause . . . Someone helping to cover up their tracks.'
' Tracks . . . ' The Ranger considered bleakly as his grey eyes glanced outward toward the perimeter. 'Surely there must be some signs alluding to the identity of these raiders, who lay ruin to this village?' And moving onward Aragorn began to search the surrounding grounds for clues.
A growing uneasiness stirred within the Man as his steps increased in length. This feeling was not alien to him . He had experienced such sensitivity before as he treaded upon the sites of past cataclysms. Even though he had not been physically present at the time of their devastating consequences, it was as if the voices and heartache of those, who had suffered through it, called out to him making him acutely aware of the anguish they had endured before death sought its claim upon them. He had never spoken to others about this peculiar yet innate ability he possessed. It was as if he could read the landscape and discern what had taken place upon it through the scars left behind.
Marshy ground now squished beneath his feet, while the beat of his heart quickened in time with his breathing. He sensed evil afoot, but felt helplessly drawn toward it as the hairs upon the back of his neck stood up. Drawing his hand toward the hilt of his sword, a piercing scream rented through the air about him and startled him. Its echo sounded again and again within his head, a shattering wail that drowned out all else around him. The Ranger felt powerless to stop his onward progress as if spellbound and he continued forward through the growing scrub brush around him. None surrounding him responded to the sobbing call of distress as its ring grew fainter and fainter, nor noted their Chieftain's disappearance. Aragorn proceeded to move farther and farther away from the group that was with him. The increasing bramble afoot acted toward impeding his progress as it clawed at his ankles and feet. He took no note of it, however, until finally he heard the gurgling of a brook and stopped Gazing downward toward the sides of its embankment, he did not relax his grip upon his sword. Presently he witnessed the clear and steady flow of its crystal waters and then something else drew his attentions, something inherently connected to the foulness that lay claim to this area about him. He took but one step further, which proved to be enough, as the increased tempo within his head and chest came to a resounding stop.
Author's Closing Notes: Well I veered away from my original intentions for this chapter, which was to disclose what it was that Aragorn discovered. That will follow in the next chapter which might be a short one and will be darker than this one. It will also act as a catalyst toward the past and hence will allow me to eventually write some flashbacks. In fact I envision quite a few of the near future chapters being almost totally flashbacks. And the action I added to this one, will help toward some future developments also. Well I hope you enjoyed chapter 3. I used Aragorn's visions/empathy from TTT (movie not book- I don't remember that scene from the book) in writing the ending of this chapter. I'll do my best to get chapter 4 out in a week or so. And no, the darkness I mentioned in this chapter did not involve harming Legolas's golden hair. Lol! I'm sorry if that might have bothered some of you, but realistically if someone's back is on fire and they have long hair, could it go untouched while his back is injured in the process? I say no. But not to worry. I mentioned that only a few strands were harmed (singed). Perhaps Elladan's warning and Elrohir's quick thinking caused the Silvan Elf to toss the majority of his wonderful hair out of harms way. :) Well until next time!
Sue a.k.a. Quickbeam1 :)