Oooh…. Lucky number 13... (hehe)

Disclaimer: Tolkien's characters are not mine. I'm just playing with them.

Chapter 13

And They Will Say, 'It Began in Mirkwood'

Like vultures on corpses, the Orcs swarmed into the area where the elves had set up camp for the night.  Arrows ripped through the air, the wizard's staff walloped and bashed, and swords and daggers clinked in another bloody melee.

And yet Orcs were the least of their troubles. For not more than a league away from where Bratherond, Merionè, Cièdron and Gandalf battled against the Orcs, a far more dangerous enemy ravaged the forest. 

"We must get out of here!" Bratherond yelled as he beheaded an Orc and moved on to another.

After days of traveling, Mirkwood finally offered the elves her nefarious, hellish welcome. In angry, thunderous breaths, Arda's storms whipped through the trembling, ashen trees and in one strike, the gnarled branches lit up in billowing flames. Smoke laced through the forest, reaching far beyond the flames' tendrils warning the creatures that dared to enter this wood, they were no longer welcome.

Gandalf swung his staff like a saber, catching his targets through brief flashes as lightning lit up the black wood in an eerie bluish glow. Cièdron twirled and ripped the air with both his and Legolas' knives in one flash of lightning and landed them in the bellies and throats of two Orcs in another.  The wind grew ever stronger, wildly whipping the elves' and wizard's long hair and spitting dust, leaves, twigs and ash into their faces.

Suddenly a great crack broke the rumbling air, and a towering tree one hundred yards away from the battle toppled as flames nipped and chewed at its trunk. As it fell, black crows squawked and escaped from its branches in an eruption of crunching leaves and snapping wood. A gingery radiance flickered against the thickening smoke and exploded into searing white and blue whenever lightning streaked across the blackened sky. Orc and elf alike realized their peril, yet they zealously pressed on with their battle in a deadly contest to see who would run first from Mirkwood's own fatal weapon. But the elves did have one advantage.

A shrill whistle shot through the air above the hissing and cackling of the approaching flames.  Four horses answered the wizard's call and kicked their way through the tangle of Orcs. As he bludgeoned one of the black, twisted creatures, Gandalf swung himself on top of his mount and rode through the fray whipping his staff to clear a path for the three elves to reach their horses. As the first to reach his mount, Bratherond grabbed his bow and in a piercing flash his arrows split the throats of the Orcs that still hindered Cièdron and Merionè who then nimbly leapt to the backs of their steeds.  As another tree tumbled down, the Orcs realized their grave disadvantage – they had only their own feet to carry them away – and they scattered and fled.

"Alas that we cannot sprout wings and fly, but at least we have swift legs below us! Do not look behind you!" Gandalf yelled and with tremulous neighs above the roaring thunder, the horses broke into a furious sprint as more enflamed branches and smoldering ashes rained down upon them.

They may not have had wings, but the magnificent horses of Thranduil may well have been eagles for their speed and agility carried the elves and wizard like arrows piercing through the air, weaving through the trees and leaping through bush and bramble. Smoke and cindering twigs trailed them and above the lightning still teased them as the storm held back the torrents of rain that they so desperately prayed for now.

"We must find Legolas and Aragorn!!" Cièdron yelled.  A moment later, he tugged on his horse to stop and turned around, poised to fly back into the fire.  His pale face blazed in the blue and orange explosions, and his eyes were wide with terror and worry, but frozen as ice in their determination.

The others stopped as well and glanced around frantically as the horses neighed in confusion. 'We can bring you away from here! We were going to make it! Why give up now? We do not like this fire!' they seemed to be saying.  A flash of lightning revealed the grim, resolute face of the wizard as he narrowed his eyes and studied the growing conflagration.  

"Two horses did not come to me when I whistled," he spoke steadily above a clap of thunder. "We must trust that Aragorn and Legolas are upon their backs now."

"And if they are not!?" Cièdron cried. His horse reared as a burning branch fell at its feet.

"Then they will have found a way!" the wizard returned as his own horse neighed and reared in the wake of a collapsing tree. "Come on!!"

Cièdron steadied his horse, and despite the poor creature's protests, he commanded it to turn back. "No! I am going back! We must find them!!"

"Cièdron! They will not have stayed there! You will not find them!" Gandalf yelled desperately.

Suddenly a lone horse leapt through the bramble, escaping the fire behind it - Legolas' horse. Cièdron's eyes widened and in a flash of lightning, he galloped back towards the fire, followed by the other elves and wizard.

"Cièdron!!"

Back into the fire they flew and through flames and smoke, the horses bucked and neighed for their masters to give them permission to flee.  Branches crumbled and crashed around them and the sweltering heat made even the elves sweat. Their skin burned from the scorching air and the scenery undulated in simmering waves dotted with flickering sparks.

Yet Cièdron did not feel the burning, he did not hear the hiss and crackle, and he did not notice how the view ahead of him swayed and wavered, like the boiling tides of an ocean.  He pressed his horse forward and jumped through flames and bramble until he was blackened with a moist, pasty soot.

"LEGOLAS! ARAGORN!!"  

Determined to not let the elf die in his futile search, Gandalf displayed as much stamina as Cièdron against the flames, knowing all too well Cièdron would not feel the fire and smoke as they tore and battered him. Merionè choked on the thick smoke and Bratherond grabbed him as he nearly fell off of his horse from the spasms that overtook his body.  

"We cannot stay here!" he yelled before collapsing in his own fit of coughs, never removing his hand from Merionè.

Gandalf struggled to locate Cièdron in the fiery confusion. The heat singed his skin and beads of sweat trickled down his face, burning his eyes with a mixture of salt and ash.  The crashes of trees and thunder bellowed angrily.  Gandalf found Cièdron and galloped next to him as the elf suffocated on the smoke's poisonous fumes, heaving and coughing terribly.

"We will all die if we stay! They are not here Cièdron! You must trust that they escaped!" Gandalf shouted.

In response, another choking cough flew his way and not waiting for words to replace it, Gandalf swiftly whacked Cièdron's horse with his staff and shouted an order for it to flee.

"We flee now! Do not look back!" the wizard yelled to the others. The wizard's cry was enough of an order for the horses who did not wait for their masters to give further permission.  They broke into another sprint, flying through flames and smoke, refusing this time to stop no matter what their masters may order. You may have a death wish, but you will have to jump off our backs if you want to see that one fulfilled, for we have no desire to die!

Cièdron gritted his teeth and focused his full concentration on not falling off the horse as his oxygen deprived mind swam on the brink of delirium. Coward, the fire hissed and seethed. That's right! Run! Leave your brother and Aragorn to burn!, the thunder laughed as it rolled across the sky. They waited for you Cièdron, they were waiting for you and now they burn, the trees cackled.

No! Gandalf is right, they would have found a way!, he yelled back, though even if his yell was aloud, it was lost in the fiery wind. But his mind would not yield so easily. Suddenly, his father's own voice scolded him. You left him? Are two dead sons not enough!? Now I must lose another because of you! My youngest burns because of you!

Tears moistened his eyes, but dried up before they reached his cheek in the fierce, stormy wind. At last, the storm clouds decided it was time to offer some respite, and they erupted in a torrential downpour. Cièdron swayed from his ever growing delirium.  Even in the bright flashes of lightning he could not see through the bucketfuls of rain. He did not know if the others were near or not anymore. He did not know how long he would continue riding or to where he was riding. As the raindrops splashed against the trees they sung, coward, coward, coward….

"NO!" Cièdron shut his eyes and put all his trust into his horse to carry him away. He no longer cared where he ended up or what happened as his mind fell into a vindictive shadow.  He burns while you ride free. As the flames scar his skin, the raindrops cool yours.

He could not take it anymore. Not smoke, nor fire, nor rain claimed Cièdron, only his own mind, burdened by guilt. Guilt's noose tightened and suffocated him until he collapsed into darkness.  In a move that can only be performed by an elf, Bratherond leapt from his horse to Cièdron's catching the prince before he slipped and fell under the trampling hooves. He grabbed him tightly as the horses dashed on, unwilling to stop even when they had long ago outraced the deadly flames.

Nature has a way of correcting herself, and the same fierce storm that ignited Mirkwood into flames, extinguished those flames in a river of cooling rain. Yet it was not until the rain dissipated to a drizzle, and the wind calmed to a powerful breeze that Gandalf and the elves finally decided to stop.  Bratherond carefully carried Cièdron, who awoke during the ride, off the horse's back and the two collapsed to the ground in exhaustion and grief at having left behind Aragorn and Legolas.

Merionè sank with his back against the tree, panting and holding his head in his hands. The sea, the sea, his mind whispered. Seagulls cried, waves lapped and he could even smell the salty air. You should have come to me ages ago, Merionè, the sea beckoned in his mind. None of this would have happened had you listened to my call. You have made one too many mistakes and now you cannot come. You have forsaken the sea.

"No, no..." he wept into his hands, "please, forgive me! Ai! Let me come, let me come…"

Gandalf breathed heavily and leaned against his staff as he observed the three elves, collapsed in grief, exhaustion, and hopelessness. They had ridden for the remainder of the night and now morning brightened the wood in her usual gray mist, but not even the brightest of mornings (which one could never even hope for in Mirkwood anyway) could bring cheer to the forlorn group. They had entered the forest full of resolve, but Mirkwood merely laughed at the elves' vain battle. Like toy ships in an angry sea, the travelers were tossed, bruised, beaten and mocked by the ferocity of the forest.

"Bratherond, get up," the wizard gently, but firmly demanded. "Cièdron, Merionè, get up."

Bratherond shut his eyes for a moment to regain his composure, and forced himself to stand, pulling Cièdron up with him. Gandalf walked over to Merionè and gently grasped his arm to pull him up.  The elves wavered and trembled in the foggy breeze like withering petals. Tears moistened the eyes of Cièdron and Merionè.  None of the elves may have been seriously injured physically, but sometimes injuries to the mind can be just as debilitating as broken limbs and scars.  Their worry and guilt for Legolas and Aragorn was almost palpable – not that Gandalf could blame them, for his own heart trembled with fear for the ranger and elf, but he knew if he could not bring hope to them, they would have no hope at all in surviving another day in Mirkwood.

"I will be leaving you now to find Aragorn and Legolas. When I do…" Gandalf looked at Cièdron pointedly as he said this, assuring the elf he would find them.  He then returned his sharp gaze to the others and continued,

"The three of us shall head east and discover how the tidings of war swell in those lands. Thus I do not know when we shall meet again. Remember, this is about more than just Merionè's warriors or a threat to your King! I do not know when, where or how the actual battle will begin – some damned trick by Sauron on the eastern borders of the lands of men I suspect will ignite it. But regardless of where the swords of armies clash, we will all say afterwards 'the war began in Mirkwood.'"

The three elves stiffened and stared solemnly at the wizard, awed by his omniscience and calm even after all they had been through. At the very mention of Mirkwood's own ongoing war, their eyes hardened and their grips tightened around their weapons in a resurgence of their earlier steadfastness. Feeling heartened by this display of the thick skin and determination of the wood elves, Gandalf continued,

"Discover what you can.  Three Nazgul occupy Dol Guldur, but we do not know what they, or Sauron, are planning. Whatever you find will prove helpful. Perhaps you will even discover the truth of the ring, for as Aragorn said, we cannot be certain that Saruman is correct in his assertions that it has passed over the sea. Perhaps all you will discover is what we already know – that the war against Sauron is growing imminent.  But whatever you find will not only help your King. It will help all the peoples of Middle Earth as we prepare for the next great battle. I wish you all the best of luck."

A sober smile bent Gandalf's lips. "I pray that we will meet again soon…" He gazed warmly at the elves and his twinkling, sagacious eyes lingered on Cièdron. "Your father will be proud of you Cièdron, no matter what happens. You should know that. Do not worry about Legolas. He is no fool and he and Aragorn would have found a way out of that fire. And I promise you I will find that elf!"

Cièdron offered a weak smile, feeling slightly relieved at Gandalf's words. With a wink, the wizard turned and kicked his horse into a gallop.  The paths of the Istari are not controlled by anyone but themselves and Gandalf, as was his wont, had come and gone like a visiting spirit to the three elves. Though they had known Gandalf would most likely not travel with them for the remainder of their journey and though they were relieved he had decided to search for Aragorn and Legolas, their hearts lamented his departure like a sailor who had lost his compass in the middle of the sea.

They stood solemnly for a moment, watching as the wizard disappeared into the shadowy wood. Though encouraged by Gandalf, weariness still claimed their bodies and minds. Suddenly, with Gandalf gone, the forest felt eerily quiet and dreadful. With only the darkness of Dol Guldur ahead of them and the scorched remnants of a warg infested, spider-ridden, Orc inhabited hell behind them, Gandalf's encouragement seemed but a transient hope, easily blown away like a dandelion in the breeze.

Bratherond sighed and stroked his skittish horse. "Well, you heard Mithrandir. He is right. Do not grieve for Legolas – I have no doubt with Aragorn with him, along with his own wits, he will be fine. They will both be fine."  Merionè and Cièdron exchanged surprised glances at the confidence Bratherond just showed in the abilities of the human and the young prince.

Perhaps his heart had softened to Aragorn after the ranger had saved his life. Or perhaps he had no other choice but to convince himself that the two would be able to take care of themselves since he would not be there to protect Legolas.  But whatever the reason may be, Bratherond's companions would never discover it and the taciturn elf would never reveal it.  Alas, not even Aragorn would learn of Bratherond's final show of confidence in him. The ranger would always remember the surly elf for his low opinion of the race of humans – yet after witnessing Aragorn save Legolas' and Cièdron's lives from the warg, then Cièdron again from his wound, and his own life, Bratherond had decided that after this mission, he would devote his strength whenever he could, to aiding the exiled king in reclaiming his throne and saving his land from the shadow of Sauron.  Had fate allowed it, he would have fought in the battle of Pelennor Fields as fervently as he fought in Mirkwood, side by side with humans as well as elves.  Such was the power of Aragorn to inspire loyalty and to win the devotion of even the most obstinate, dogmatic of beings. But this silent oath of loyalty would be carried by Bratherond to his grave and Aragorn would never learn of it.  Such are the sad workings of Fate, that one may never know the true depths of another's heart.

"Come on. We will not let King Thranduil down," Bratherond ordered as he mounted his horse. Cièdron and Merionè reluctantly mounted their own steeds, and they pressed forward into the infinite depths of an evil they had only begun to scratch the surface of.

* * * *

"A curse on the stubborn necks of elves," Aragorn grumbled as he and Legolas crept stealthily through the twisted trees in search of Bratherond.

Legolas narrowed his eyes at the disgruntled human. "And I suppose humans never wish to be alone, Master Ranger!"

"Not in haunted forests overrun by the servants of Sauron," Aragorn answered dryly.

"It is not haunted Aragorn."

"Well it may as well be."

Legolas paused and glanced around him, a slight confusion coloring his eyes. They had been away from the others for only twenty minutes at the most, but suddenly he had the chilling feeling he knew not how to get back.   As he looked at the unfamiliar surroundings, he could have sworn the trees had altered their positions – nothing seemed to be in the right place! He frowned as he debated telling Aragorn of his sudden disorientation.  Imagine! A wood elf getting lost in his own forest! I would never live this down. What if he told Cièdron? Or Elladan and Elrohir?  Legolas shuddered at the very thought of his brother or Aragorn's feisty step-brothers finding out that he, the renowned archer and Prince of Mirkwood, son of King Thranduil, got lost in what could technically be considered his backyard. I may as well renounce my status and move into the mines of the dwarves in shame!

Aragorn too stopped and studied their surroundings with a growing frown.  We came from that direction, but where are our tracks?  If he didn't know better he would have sworn the trees had used their roots to pick up the scattered leaves, dust and dirt and then cover their trails, just for the fun of it. With the sun blocked by the thick branches and gathering clouds, Aragorn could not even depend on that for direction. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed at Legolas, who appeared to be rather disconcerted as well by the ambiguous forest.  Hesitantly, he cleared his throat to get the elf's attention.

"Legolas do you know the way back from here?" Aragorn asked frankly.

Legolas shot him a grim look which Aragorn immediately interpreted as 'no.'

"That's what I thought," Aragorn murmured as he crouched to study the ground and search for their tracks. "I know we came from here, yet it does not seem familiar and our tracks are hidden from my sight…"

Legolas walked to his side and peered into the leering forest, "Perhaps we should just walk in this direction and our memories will decide to return to us…"

 "Aye…" Aragorn grumbled under his breath, feeling rather frustrated that even after all his experience as a ranger he still could not decipher the enigmatic forest of Mirkwood.

For a few minutes they hiked back in the direction from which they thought they had come when Aragorn halted.

"We turned somewhere. This is not right," he announced.

Legolas frowned, "Aye, I know we turned, but I thought it was further up."

"I do not recognize these trees though….We must have turned farther back."

Legolas placed his hands on one of the trees and studied its rough trunk, "Nay, I think I remember this tree…"

Aragorn cocked an eyebrow. "How is that tree different from the others?"

"It used to be a birch," Legolas answered matter-of-factly as he gazed up at the slender branches.

"But there have been many birches scattered throughout this area- how do you know it is the same one you already saw?"

"There haven't been that many birches, Aragorn."

Aragorn sighed and continued forward. "Fine, we will keep going then."

For a few more minutes they walked through the sticky bramble as the sky above them darkened with the setting sun and gathering storm. This time Legolas halted.  When Aragorn heard the light crunching of leaves under the elf's feet stop he turned and looked at Legolas who had laid his hand on another tree.

"Is that one familiar to you as well?"

Legolas avoided his gaze as he answered, "Nay, Aragorn, but it is just like the other. It is also a birch. Perhaps that other one was not the same one I had already seen."  Even the trees have turned against us now!

"Then we will go back," Aragorn muttered as he began to backtrack. Some wood elf

After a few more moments of ambling through the maze of, what Legolas was now convinced were sneering trees, they both stopped simultaneously.

"This is not right, Aragorn," Legolas stated simply as his frustrated gaze took in the trees around him. Now they all looked strangely familiar, as did every single cursed, decrepit tree in all of Mirkwood!

Aragorn crouched again and grabbed a handful of leaves. "None of these are even broken. Did we walk through here at all?"

"We are backtracking though! We must have walked through here at least once!" Legolas cried. He turned around again, fighting the swelling doubt he was beginning to have about his own sanity. As his frustration grew, Legolas scanned the ground with his keen eyes for a broken leaf, more to prove that he was not insane than to ascertain whether they had really been there before.

"Perhaps if we call out, the others will answer us and we can find our way back," Legolas finally suggested when he could not find even one cracked leaf.

Aragorn raised his eyebrows and indicated for Legolas to shout. In response, Legolas released a powerful, loud cry in elvish. The words echoed throughout the trees and bounced off the bushes and returned to Legolas. For a few moments they waited for a response that would never come.

"Well…" Aragorn began as he slowly stood up and looked around them, debating which direction they should try next.

"We should go that way!" Legolas and Aragorn said this at the same time, though they pointed in opposite directions.

"Why do you say that way?!" they then simultaneously demanded of each other.

Aragorn let out another frustrated sigh and mimicked Bratherond's earlier claim that he could find his way around the forest just fine by himself. "I can find my way around… I would like to know how that elf finds his way around this cursed wood!"

"Perhaps he leaves a trail of crumbs," Legolas replied with a faint smirk as he imagined Bratherond daintily dropping crumbs of lembas as he trudged gruffly through the woods.

Aragorn smiled grimly and slapped Legolas lightly on the back, "Then we are fools indeed for not following those crumbs straight to him! Come I think I recognize those trees as the ones we passed earlier," he said as he began to walk in the direction he had pointed in.

But Legolas did not follow him. Instead, the elf stiffened and remained as still as stone as he glanced nervously towards the sky.

"What is it Legolas?" Aragorn asked anxiously, wondering what malevolent sounds his elf ears picked up now.

"Thunder."

Aragorn froze and joined Legolas in peering through the branches at the rapidly blackening sky. A sudden flash of lightning confirmed Legolas' observation as a violent clap shook the earth.

Muttering a rather crude elvish curse under his breath, Aragorn grabbed Legolas' arm. "We must find our way back now! Come!"

Not wanting to waste any time, but not wanting to move too fast either while they were lost, they broke into a light jog, frantically trying to figure out the way back to the others.   As they ran, lightning flashed in increasing frequency and the thunder clapped ever more violently while the wind gathered her strength.

"This isn't right Aragorn!" Legolas yelled. "This is not where we came from!"

Aragorn stopped and his eyes darted quickly around him, "This way!" he decided quickly and the two began to jog to the right.

Suddenly, as lightning streaked above the wood, two arrows streaked inches away from Aragorn's and Legolas' noses.

"Ai!" the elf cried as he hastily drew out his bow and aimed in the direction from where one of the arrows came. "This is no time for a battle with Orcs!"

"I'm afraid we have no choice Legolas!" Aragorn responded as he stood poised with his arrow notched and ready to shoot as well. They stood in silence for a few moments, searching the trees around them for their attackers when suddenly a bright flash followed by a deafening crash pervaded the woods.  Aragorn's eyes widened when he perceived where the crash had come from. Legolas too spotted the source of the crash and his arms quavered as he slowly lowered his bow in terrified shock. Little did they know, one hundred yards away on the other side of that crash, Gandalf, Merionè, Cièdron and Bratherond were fighting their own battle. Another arrow and the shrill cry of a horn caused Aragorn and Legolas to snap out of their momentary trance and they shot their arrows at the now visible Orcs that raced towards them, ready to attack.

"We must run," Aragorn hissed as he glimpsed the bright flames stretching towards the sky in the distance. "As soon as we can, we must get out of here."

Legolas nodded in agreement as his bow sang and a series of deadly shots downed five Orcs.

Arrows ripped from Aragorn's bow as well before the ranger quickly switched to his own weapon of choice, his sword. Even a dozen Orcs had little chance of outmaneuvering the duo as Legolas' arrows burst through the tense, thickening air and Aragorn's sword shimmered in the flickering lightning. The elf swiveled gracefully, striking Orcs all around them and was about to pull out his knife when an inflamed tree suddenly crashed at his feet.

"Aragorn! I believe now is the time to run!" he shouted as the Orcs scattered, yelping and screaming around them.

Aragorn beheaded one more Orc and met Legolas' gaze, "I could not agree more!"

The two then shot out in a mad dash through bush and bramble, zigzagging through trees, leaping over rocks and never looking back. Behind them trees were consumed in flames and billowing smoke chased them, threatening their lungs with its poisonous choking fumes.

"This way Legolas!" Aragorn cried as he jolted to the left. He jumped back in shock as an Orc stepped in his path and leered hungrily at him, slowly raising his bow. Aragorn swiftly beheaded the creature and ducked as an arrow from another Orc flew over his head.

"Never mind! The other way!" he yelled, deciding now definitely was no time to fight Orcs.

The two thus turned and ducked out of the way as more arrows chased them. As one whiffed past Legolas' cheek, he let out an annoyed, "Argh!" and turned to answer the Orc's attacks with his own arrows, as easily as if he was swatting at an irksome fly.  He then hopped around and continued to sprint past Aragorn.

Lightning flashed, brightening the already glowing wood and thunder roared throughout the sky.  Aragorn's eyes began to sting and tear as the smoke and scolding air caught up to them.  For several minutes he ran just a few meters behind Legolas when suddenly, a slew of elvish curses flew his way. In a moment, he caught up to Legolas and found what it was that had distressed the elf.

"A cliff! Since when were there cliffs in Mirkwood?!" Legolas cried. He stood at the edge of a steep cliff, at the bottom of which was a shallow, mostly dried out black lake.

Aragorn raised his eyebrows. "Since when did you assume cliffs and lakes did not exist in Mirkwood?!"

Quickly, Aragorn scanned the edges of the cliff and noted that rocks and edges protruded at various points. It would be tricky to climb down, but considering the conflagration behind them, it was a risk he would be willing to take.

"Well, perhaps I should have practiced climbing your father's furniture after all!" Aragorn muttered, suddenly feeling rather envious of the nimble climbing skills of the wood elves.

Legolas furrowed his eyebrows and leapt to the closest protruding rock, grimacing at the tremble in it as he landed.

"Wait Aragorn! Let me find a rock for you!" he called as he lightly jumped to another rock. This one broke away under his feet, but the elf was quick and he smoothly hopped to another one that remained sturdy even as he tested its strength by jumping again on it.

"Here Aragorn! This one will hold you!"   

Aragorn grimaced – the rock that had broken away was the very one he was eyeing – but he trusted Legolas' judgment and thus lowered himself to the rock he suggested as the elf moved on to another. They proceeded like this until they made it half way down, cringing every time loose rocks and dirt collapsed in their wake. Above them, the fire hissed and raged menacingly and lightning streaked across the sky. Legolas hopped lightly from rock to rock as if he were playing a game of hopscotch as the ranger gingerly continued to squat and lower himself, using his hands to grip to whatever protruding branch or rock he could find.

Suddenly, with another loud clap of thunder, the rain erupted and more loud curses flew from both the elf and human in response. If this is not a sign we are not welcome here, I don't know what is! Aragorn thought. Blinded by the sheet of rain, the ranger stopped and bent down feeling the side of the cliff with his hands and feet before continuing his downward climb. Legolas continued to hop, but at a much slower pace, hesitating each time as he peered through the wall of rain. As they climbed closer to the bottom, the incline decreased slightly though the slope still remained dangerously steep and slippery with mud and loosened dirt.

Just as they reached the top of the final quarter, a muffled crash split through the thick drops of rain causing both to stop and gaze timidly above them.  Gandalf certainly was not kidding when he told them even luck would not be on their side in this part of Middle Earth! A tree had fallen at the top of the cliff, its branches swiping a large area of loose dirt and rocks which now tumbled down towards them.

"Ai! Valar!" Legolas groaned as he hopped to the same rock Aragorn was on and instinctively pressed the ranger into the side of the cliff, protecting him from the barrage with his own body. When the cascade of rocks and dirt ceased, Legolas slowly turned and peered up.  Aragorn held on to the elf's arm as he too carefully scanned the top of the cliff.

"I think it's over…"

But it was not over. One more loose rock above them had decided to let go of its hold and tumbled down, swiping Legolas on the side of his shoulder. In a flash of lightning and violent clap of thunder, the elf was jerked out of Aragorn's grip and he disappeared below him. 

"LEGOLAS!" Aragorn shouted again, panic flaring in his heart as he heard dirt and rocks crumble and fall below him against the spattering of rain.

Struggling to maintain his calm, Aragorn immediately continued to climb down, cursing his human feet for not having the swift agility of the elves as he could not move nearly as fast as he wanted to. The rain continued to pelt against his face and lightning flashed as he searched the ground below for any sign of the elf, but between the thick veil of rain and the darkness of night, he could barely even see the ground.

"Legolas! I'm almost there!" he called as he approached the bottom, praying desperately for a response. But besides the splash of the rain against the lake and the rumblings of thunder, the wood remained deathly quiet. Even the hiss of the fire had been quenched by the downpour.

When at last he reached the foot of the cliff, he sprinted to the spot he thought he heard Legolas fall.

"LEGOLAS!" Aragorn rummaged through the bramble and feverishly scanned the area as he repeatedly called his name.

And then he saw him. In a flash of lightning the elf was revealed, prone in the midst of sharp bramble, a glowing heap in the dark night.

Aragorn caught his breath and hurried to Legolas' side.  As he kneeled next to him Aragorn noticed with relief that the elf's side rose and fell in rapid breaths, but his heart still swelled with worry that Legolas had not yet responded to him. Carefully Aragorn reached out to turn the elf over, assuming that he was unconscious. But a soft, pained groan alerted to Aragorn otherwise and he started with surprise.

"Legolas! Legolas, it is alright, it's me!" he whispered hoarsely, as he slowly turned the elf over. When he did, he found that the elf's eyes were shut in pain and he hugged his shoulder tightly. Aragorn carefully moved aside Legolas' hand so that he could see the shoulder, and grimaced to find it dislocated. He then felt his side, and just as he suspected, a few ribs also were broken from the fall. Again Legolas groaned and hugged his shoulder.

"It will be alright Legolas, you will heal from this, it is only a few broken bones…" Aragorn rambled on as he gently cupped the elf's cheek, in an attempt to distract him before he put the elf through one final bout of pain.

Legolas gasped and hissed softly through clenched teeth, "Ai! Just do it already Aragorn!"

Aragorn pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. "Well, if you insist Legolas. Don't worry, I'll try to be quick, I have done this many times before – once when Halbarad fell from his horse…"

*POP*

The shoulder was back in place, but the elf's consciousness had been lost with a surprised gasp. Aragorn sighed and wiped the wet, knotted hair away from Legolas' pale face. As he leaned back on his heels, he studied their surroundings.

Through the allaying storm, Aragorn observed the pitter-patter of raindrops and faint flashes of lightning against the rippled surface of a lake the color of malt beer. Brambles and wet leaves cloaked its shores and beyond the lake, the noxious forest stretched on like a giant cage.  With a sinking heart, he realized they were as lost as grains of sand on a beach in a labyrinthine forest that at this very moment was dying all around them.  Hope seemed no more than an illusion in this graveyard where elves continued to fight a slowly losing battle.  As he gazed at the deathly-still, pallid form of Legolas, whose own glow could not hold against the decaying wood that sucked out droplets of hope like a dry sponge, Aragorn had to fight back the sudden temptation to scream with frustration.

But then again, Mirkwood was not the only land troubled by Sauron's forces.  With a heavy heart, he thought of the lands of men who fought a never-ending battle against the Easterlings.  Though he had yet to claim the throne that was his birthright, his connection and devotion to these lands was almost uncanny in its innateness, as if his blood flowed from the very rivers that traversed Gondor. It mattered not that he was raised in Ithilien – his home was in Gondor. His life and his death belonged to Gondor.  He only hoped he would not let his country down.

As he thought of this, his kinship to Legolas felt stronger than ever. For in Legolas he saw that same fire – the fire that Gandalf had already noted long ago – a flame that burnt for Mirkwood and for Middle Earth that could never be extinguished, not by storms, Orcs or wargs. Or by a couple of broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, spider wounds, warg bites, or by being lost in the middle of Valar knows where….  Or so Aragorn hoped with a grim, sardonic smile as he gently lift the elf and brought him closer to the foot of the cliff so that he could lean against its wall and keep watch ahead of them.  

"Alright Legolas. Let's see those superior elven healing powers of yours get to work. We have a long day ahead of us mellonin," Aragorn whispered as he carefully settled him down.

After binding Legolas' chest, and making sure the elf had no more wounds, he leaned against the cliff and waited for the sun to rise and Legolas to wake. As his mind finally slowed down, it was drawn back to the other elves and Gandalf.  His stomach clenched in worry for all of them, and from more than just the fire and Orcs.  A gnawing suspicion haunted his mind, and as much as he tried to ignore it, he could not quell the ominous feeling that the elves were drawing ever closer to their own doom.

TBC

Reviewers! Gracias, Merci, Grazie, Cheers, Danke, Thank you, Hanta!

I'm going to rush and get this up so I'll save the reviewer responses for next time, but of course I do appreciate them as always. One quick thing – Alexa had a very good idea that I should post at the bottom when I think I will get the next update up. Honestly, I really don't know – I'm beat from school already-  but I did start the next chapter, so maybe in another 2-3 weeks…