Scars Chapter 7 A Time May Come
Disclaimer: This story is being written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.
Author's Note: A heartfelt thank you to all of you, who responded back to me. I so enjoy hearing how certain parts of the story touch you and even move you to tears. The part about Elrohir's hands was my favorite too from that chapter. I hope you enjoy this next one as well, though I will give an advance warning that it does contain one dark scene in which I myself became teary-eyed writing.
A Time May Come...
"None of us were to know about the travesty that lay ahead . . . " Elrohir's much sought after attempt at calm now eluded the Elf, as his quavering voice finally broke while a profound rush of guilt gained the upper hand.
Legolas anxiously looked on as his friend attempted to regain his composure. Tranquility seemed to be a fleeting virtue for them both at present. For inner turmoil now brewed within the Silvan Elf as well. There was naught Legolas could do to contain the deep sense of foreboding that had started to grow within him as Elrohir's few initial words regarding Aragorn's past drew to an uneasy close. Waiting for the raven-haired Elf to continue, Legolas felt as if his emotions were tottering at the brink of a dangerous precipice and that the revelation that his friend was struggling to impart might be all the impetus needed to plunge him headlong, heart and soul, into a dark and menacing abyss. He suddenly felt shaky with anticipation. The inner workings of his body churned, while his limbs reacted in kind. He could not control the involuntary trembling that had begun to affect them as it moved forth to seize his hands as well. With Elrohir's distracted attentions, his friend had failed to notice the effect his story was having upon Legolas and for this, the Silvan Elf was thankful. For the archer sensed the great need the raven-haired Elf had to vocalize the matter now haunting him, and Legolas would withstand all to provide him with such comfort.
Elrohir tried hard to quell his emotions so he could go on with his story. It had never been his intention to become the bearer of these turbulent memories. He had done so out of desperation when it had become readily apparent during his futile measures to save his grievously injured brother that the tenuous cord holding Aragorn to this life had been in imminent danger of breaking. His breath caught in his throat once again as he thought back to that moment in time when he had become custodian to these unwanted recollections. A coldness had taken hold of Aragorn's slack limbs while the dampness of perspiration dotted his brow. One of the Elrohir's hands had stilled just above the boy's racing heart. The vital organ was beating far too rapidly to sustain the boy's life for any length of time. His other hand came to rest against the pale, clammy flesh of Aragorn's cheek before sliding into the sweat dampened locks beside it as he cradled the youth's head.
He understood that he held his brother's life within his hands, and it readily became apparent what extreme measures he would need to take in order to save the boy. "Do not leave me, Estel!" He beckoned frantically to his brother's unconscious form, while his mind conveyed a similar urgent appeal by way of an intimate bond he then established with the boy. Elrohir was unprepared, however, for the consequence that his actions were to render back to him as a myriad of unchecked emotions and memories flooded his psyche with such a fury that for a moment he had almost been in danger of losing the bond that only seconds before he created. But the Valar had been watching over them. For immediately the Elf felt endowed with a fortitude well beyond his ability to bolster and the spiritual link he had established with his younger brother was ensured.
Many weeks later after his brother had been returned to Rivendell, he had tried to sort through the host of memories, feelings, and emotions amassed upon him during that moment in time and make some sense out of them. It had never been his intent to become a guardian over them. Perhaps it had been out of selfishness on his part that he remained quiet concerning them, speaking to none about them. It had been to his father alone that he revealed just the gist of what they contained when the Eldar had taken over Aragorn's care. He had chosen, however, to utter nil regarding them to either Elladan or Aragorn. For the recollections belonged to the latter and were his to evoke if he so chose to. And to the former, knowing how haunted and guilt-ridden Elladan had been over the whole ordeal, Elrohir felt it best to keep to himself any prior knowledge he had so reluctantly obtained. He had never meant to deny his elder brother the privilege of such information. He had only sought to protect him by bringing no further grief to his twin. And with the passage of time, what understanding he had gained from the life-sustaining link appeared less and less pertinent as those surrounding him seemed able to get on with their lives once again. It was only now, many years later, that he recognized the error of his ways. He regretfully realized that both Elladan and Aragorn had suffered in the prevailing shadows, and if he had taken the right course, he would have spoken with them both instead of keeping quiet as he had. Until now, he had never detected the lingering guilt that still surrounded Elladan nor the enduring heartache, which afflicted Aragorn. For if he had, he would have never allowed either of them to suffer in silence or bear such burdens alone. Through his own lack of judgment, he had failed to detect their ongoing needs and this revelation was grievous to him.
Through the whirling tide of emotion, Elrohir looked once again toward his expectant friend. The anticipation that consumed Legolas's pale features sought to urge Elrohir on with what he had only just begun to convey, and the raven-haired Elf endeavored laboriously to continue his grim tale. When the Elf finally began to speak once more, his normally clear and melodious voice was weighed down by sorrow.
"We had enjoyed a long day together riding through the Wilds of Eriador. With nightfall quickly overtaking us, it had been decided that we should start back. Unexpectedly we met up with an approaching Rivendell sentry. Immediately they alerted us to suspicious activity noted toward the east. We could not fail to act upon this information . . . but there was the matter of Estel . . . " Elrohir's voice broke once again as he remembered how his elder brother had turned to him at that moment with the express intent of petitioning him to escort the boy homeward. But never had either twin headed off before toward a confrontation without the other at his side and as if sensing his elder brothers' dilemma, the boy abruptly spoke up.
"I shall go too!"
"No!" Had been Elladan's instantaneous rebuttal to the ill-conceived plan.
"But I can, Elladan. I will not hamper your efforts. Let me go! ..."
"You will do no such thing, Estel!" Elladan immediately cut short the boy's continued entreaties.
"But I am ready, Elladan . . . "
"Are you? ... The elder Elf distractedly replied. His mind already many leagues away readying itself for what might possibly lay ahead. "I think not, young one . . . You are still green and we know not what lies in wait of us. No, it is homeward that you shall go, Estel."
"But . . . " Aragorn had started to argue, his voice betraying the hurt brought on by his eldest brother's stinging words to him. But Elladan immediately silenced his further protests.
"Be still, Estel! I have not the luxury of time to argue this point with you! Elrohir will see you... "
Bitterly guessing the Elf's further motives, the boy immediately interrupted throwing his brother's prior words back at him. "I am not so green, brother, that I cannot find my way back home on my own . . . I need no nursemaid!"
Momentarily amused by the boy's sudden boldness, Elladan's gaze swept over Aragorn's stubborn features before he reluctantly replied with a more thoughtful voice, "No, Estel . . . I guess you are capable of that . . . but keep to the path and head back directly . . . " He warned. Then turning back toward the group of Elves awaiting his direction, Elladan's immediate attentions were once again engaged.
Elrohir watched momentarily as Estel, with bruised spirits, commanded Berior to head back toward Rivendell. The younger Elf noted the look of disdain that momentarily flooded the boy's grey eyes, and he made to speak out himself departing words of caution to the boy. But at that very moment, his attentions were drawn back toward the stir of activity surrounding him as the other Elves began speaking out in unison their concerns regarding the matter awaiting them. And without any further watchful eyes upon him, the disgruntled child took off in the direction of home.
None had the ability to foresee that already the safety of the surrounding woodlands had been breached. And the distracted attentions of the now cross child would prove to be his undoing. For as the clues that something was already amiss presented themselves with increased frequency in the crackling of underbrush and the unnatural swaying of the brake, Aragorn remained absorbed with embittered thoughts about what had taken place only a short while before. Elladan had embarrassed him in front of others, and even if it had not been his eldest brother's intent, the child found the offense hard to forgive as Berior moved steadily onward beneath him. It was not until many minutes later when the horse, finally sensing the impending threat coming upon them, snorted his concern before rearing up to alert Aragorn to their present danger.
The unsuspecting child was totally unprepared for the violence that was to be enacted against them, and his young heart thudded heavily with alarm. For several gruesome figures suddenly converged upon the shadowy path now in front of him. Their short and squat forms had bowed legs, and long arms ending in clawlike hands. Glowing crimson orbs glared out of lynx shaped eye sockets within their darkened faces while jagged yellow fangs and thick red tongues filled their wide mouths.
'Glamhoth!' Aragorn's staggering mind clamored within him as the boy suddenly found himself confronted by a roving horde of Orcs. With only seconds to act, the boy reacted with the unthinkable. For suddenly he found himself frozen in his tracks. Never before had he met up with this fell race. He had been brought up with heedful warnings concerning these foul servants of Mordor. He had been repeatedly cautioned as to how these spiteful creatures despised all things of beauty especially the Race of Men and Elves, and were bent on destroying all and any that they encountered in their way. Even now, unbeknownst to the boy, an Orc warrior drew back upon the wooden spear he carried ,while he scrutinized the still rider upon his very anxious mount.
If the master did not understand the impending danger, which was now his, then the steed beneath him did, as Berior stomped nervously while he snorted in warning yet again. The horse's increased activity was enough to startle the rider upon him back into action as Aragorn immediately pulled upon the reins within his now trembling hands, while he desperately searched for a direct path of escape in which to set out upon. Once more, Berior reared up as the grotesque goblins closed in upon them. This time, issuing forth a high pitch, tremulous neigh. As his front legs once again touched the earth beneath them, the horse momentarily stumbled forward before righting himself as the boy upon his back hung on for dear life. Instantly the steed took off as if the fires of Mordor were upon his heels. As the creature charged forward, he pinned his ears tightly back. A drenching sweat broke out upon his jet black coat while he continuously blew and snorted his lingering alarm. But as the equine gathered distance over the terrain beneath him, his formerly steady clip became increasingly erratic. Until finally the horse stumbled and was unable to compensate for his misstep bringing both rider and mount down into a pounding heap. With thrashing legs, Berior attempted to regain his bearings only to falter once more and come down again upon his now defenseless rider.
Too startled by the horse's initial fall to register the pain that accompanied it, Aragorn screamed out in misery as Berior's weight rolled back upon his now prone body a second time. Agony ripped through the boy as his leg lay trapped beneath the horse's trembling body. A similar distress coursed through his whole left side. His arm was pinned awkwardly beneath his own weight, and his chest flared in torment with each startled attempt of the horse still atop of him making it nearly impossible for the boy to draw proper breath. Blood flowed from a jagged cut now upon Aragorn's brow brought on by his hard contact with the ground, and served to mar his vision. And with Berior's frantic shifting, dirt and gravel had become embedded within the many other cuts and wounds he had sustained in their fall.
Finally the horse's agitated motions stilled completely except for an occasional groan of agony. Desperately the boy sought to free himself from the burden still atop of him. Dreading the pain that would accompany such activity, Aragorn bit down hard upon his lip as he used his still free arm to gain purchase. Reaching toward a sturdy sapling, he used the little strength left to him as he attempted to pull himself free of the burden still on top of him. As if sensing his rider's need, Berior struggled to rise up one last time giving Aragorn some advantage. Pulling himself free of his steed, Aragorn lay trembling in misery beside the supine equine. His now pierced lip was bleeding from his concentrated effort, while he attempted to calm his ragged breathing. He knew not the length of time that passed as he remained upon the cold, damp ground beside his horse, but finally he stirred. Attempting to rise up, the immediate grating of bone within his injured leg stopped him dead in his tracks as another groan of anguish escaped his lips. Tears welled up in his grey eyes as his good arm drew around his suffering middle. Once again Berior feebly groaned as if commiserating with his master's misery.
As his head began to clear, Aragorn's thoughts now turned toward his suffering mount. Weakly the boy used the grasslands beneath him to pull his body forward. His passage was excruciatingly slow, but finally his own head drew alongside that of his horse's. Berior's once powerful dark body, now lay shaking beside him. Blood tinged mucus seeped from the animal's nostrils, and the boy noticed, as the horse groaned once again, that the creature's gums were tinged grey. Though painful to him, Aragorn used what diminishing strength he still possessed to push himself upward until he observed the source of Berior's distress. An Orc spear was impaled just beneath the animal's right shoulder. The tip of which had worked its way out slicing the flesh along Berior's flank. The reckless ride, they had shared, had most likely intensified the damage done to the beast, for the equine's black coat was now saturated with blood.
His own pain momentarily forgotten, Aragorn stared wide-eyed at the once beautiful animal now suffering beside him. Tears pricked his grey depths as his mouth hung open wide with his distress. His breaths once again returned in short, ragged gasps that were now caused by the sobs welling up inside the youth. "Berior!" He exhaled in heartache. "Oh, Berior! What have I done to you?" Now weeping, the boy buried his head against the soft muzzle that only earlier this day had nuzzled against him in affection. Tears coursed unheeded down the boy's face wetting the soft black hair beneath him. Until finally, rational thought returned to the youth through a voice from his past. "Father," he whispered as Elrond's words sounded within his head.
"Hesitation toward killing another is not a bad thing, Estel. It actually gladdens my heart that you do not find such a task so effortless. The time may come when such a decision is thrust upon you and you will have to react very differently..."
"Father?" He pleaded again desperately knowing now what he must do. Reaching toward his waist, he withdrew the hunting knife given to him three years earlier by Elladan. His young face contorted in pain as he raised it mere inches above Berior's prone neck. But hesitation momentarily stopped him until another voice from the past summoned inside his head.
"Estel, if you are not ready, then do not waste time with misplaced attempts . . . "
Legolas' voice was once more to sound within him as this time Aragorn heard the Elf say.
"And never allow fear nor anger to cloud your judgement, but remain dispassionate . . . "
"How can I allow myself not to feel when I know what I must do?" Aragorn cried out into the darkness now surrounding him. But raising his knife yet again, he initiated the task he knew was his to perform. And finding the point, which would provide the animal with the utmost relief, the boy thrust his knife downward into the horse's prone flesh, severing through once vital vessels until at last, the creature's suffering ended and he knew Berior lived no more. Collapsing once again against the horse's muzzle, he felt the last stir of exhalation leave the equine as it touched his face. And bringing forth his good hand now covered with the steed's red blood, he tried to trap its rush of heat against his own wet face, inhaling deeply in a desperate measure to preserve the last of Berior's spirit and keep a piece of the once magnificent steed's essence alive within himself.
Author's Closing Notes: Well if you reached this point, then thank you for reading chapter 7. I apologize to any who might have been put off or upset by the events of this chapter. The last scene was inspired by two sources. The first being Hidalgo, and the second, when Aragorn inhales Berior's last breath, was taken from an episode of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman entitled Law of the Land. I used the name Berior for Aragorn's horse because it is Elvish for protector or savior. For in my mind the horse indeed sacrificed himself to save his master.
I apologize again, because a few of you I'm sure had prepared themselves for another scenario. If you took note from last chapter, Elrohir mentioned that the tale he was about to tell Legolas was a long and sad one. So there will be more of it to come.
I always reach a point in each long story I write, in which I become very tempted to reveal what is to happen. It is actually difficult not to answer or reassure the readers about their concerns. So I will repeat, that though this story will contain some dark parts, it is my hope that ultimately it will be an uplifting story. So all I can say right now is trust me and I hope I will not disappoint you. Thank you all once again and until next time! Sue- a.k.a Quickbeam :)