Title: The Assassin
Rating: K +
Disclaimer: I own nothing that has to do with The Lord of the Rings. I make no money with this story.
Summary: On their way back to The Angle from Bree, Aragorn and Halbarad run into more trouble on the way than they can manage. Who will escape the wheels of fate and who will pay the ultimate price?
A/N: Written for the O.A.A. group, upon their adamant request. ;)
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Chapter 3: A rock and a hard place
Halbarad saw the arrow impact with Aragorn's horse a second before he heard its whistle. A moment later, he was ripped out of his shocked state by the pained whinny of the horse, and then everything happened so fast that Halbarad could do nothing more than call his Chieftain's name.
"Strider!"
In pain and scared, Aragorn's horse reared and immediately lost its footing on the wet grass. With another frightened scream the horse sank through its hind legs and then fell to the side, its hooves flailing through the air.
The sudden impact with the ground was hard enough to drive the air out of Aragorn's lungs, but before he had time to contemplate what was happening, his horse tumbled down the steep hill, pulling him with it. He had fallen clear of the horse's body, years of training his instincts saving him. But his legs and hands were still tangled in the stirrups and reins, and when the horse slid and tumbled down the hill, he was dragged down with it.
Once more shouting his friend's name, Halbarad had to watch helplessly as Aragorn crashed to the ground and then tumbled down the hill, the body of the horse dragging him down mercilessly.
Grabbing the reins of his own horse tightly, Halbarad nudged his mount to a swifter walk. He had to get down the hill as quickly as possible. Whoever had shot the arrow was still there somewhere and would surely not hesitate to shoot again, seeing that he had missed his target.
His own horse danced in agitation, but then it followed Halbarad's command and made its way down the steep hill, from now and then slipping on the wet grass. Keeping all his senses alert on his horse and the hill behind him, Halbarad was not able to follow Aragorn's fall with his eyes, and while he descended the hill he hoped that his friend had survived.
He could hear the pain filled screams of Aragorn's horse, high and piercing, more terrible than many things he had ever heard. Pressing his heels down and shifting his weight slightly in his saddle as his horse slipped once more, Halbarad felt cold sweat appear on his brow.
Glancing behind him quickly but seeing nothing and no one, Halbarad took a deep breath and called his friend's name, "Strider!"
Stillness was his only answer, and then another terrible scream from the dying horse met his ears, making him shiver. He needed to get down the hill, he needed to find Aragorn, needed to make sure that he was alive, that he was well, that he had not left him.
The grass before him was pressed flat to the ground, indicating where the horse had tumbled down the hill, and here and there Halbarad could see red blood mingled in the green, and his heard jumped into his throat.
'Aragorn…'Finally, after what seemed like hours to Halbarad, he reached the bottom of the hill, where the grass grew so tall that it easily reached up to his horse's belly. He slid out of his saddle with none of his normal grace and immediately crouched low, hiding in the grass in the hope that the archer would not see him.
Halbarad's heart beat frantically against his ribs as he rushed towards the sound of the pained animal. His own descent had led him further to the right to avoid the trampled grass and the loosened gravel.
With slightly shaking hands he parted the long blades of grass in front of him, ignoring the stinging pain when they cut into his hands here and then, his thoughts focused on Aragorn. Once more he called his friend's name, but got no response.
And then, he suddenly stood face to face with the screaming horse. The animal's hooves were flailing through the air, its nostrils were flared, eyes huge and rolling. Blood coated its head and forelegs, and in the split of a second Halbarad knew that it had broken both its forelegs in the fall; the white bones were jutting out of the skin and blood was soaking the earth.
"Easy, easy…shhh, easy." He tried to calm the horse with his voice, forcing it to be steady and low. With the horse to agitated and in pain, he could not approach further without the risk of being hit by its hooves.
But, where was Aragorn? Letting his eyes scan the immediate area, Halbarad saw no trace of his friend. He was neither lying behind the horse, and from what he could tell he was not trapped under it either. There was his pack, the leather strips frayed and broken, his bedroll, supplies…
"Strider! Where are you? Strider?"
A soft moan coming from his left made Halbarad stop, but then the shrieks of the horse drowned it out. But he had heard something, he was sure. Crouching low in the grass, Halbarad made his way quickly over to whence the sound had come from. Now, looking closer, he saw that the grass had been pressed to ground here and there, as if something had rolled through it.
"Strider?"
"Here." The voice was soft and full of pain, and in the split of a second Halbarad had reached Aragorn's side and knelt down.
"Strider?" Halbarad kept his voice low, so as not to give away their position, still hoping that the tall grass was providing enough cover, at least for the moment.
Aragorn was lying on his side, breathing heavily. Mud and torn blades of grass clung to his cloak and clothing, and here and there red spots could be seen, but Halbarad knew not whether his was Aragorn's blood or that of his horse.
Reaching out, Halbarad gently gripped Aragorn's shoulder and rolled his unresisting friend onto his back. Aragorn groaned in pain and his arm was pressed against his chest, indicating bruised or broken ribs. Aragorn had his eyes closed, and when Halbarad moved some strands of dark hair away from his face, he revealed a gash on Aragorn's right temple that bled sluggishly.
"Strider, are you alert? Are you with me?"
For a moment Aragorn did not answer, but then his eyelids fluttered and he opened slightly dilated pupils that gazed up at Halbarad. Blinking a few times as if he tried to bring the world into focus, Aragorn tried to roll onto his side once more, but Halbarad would not release his shoulder.
"Strider, look at me, talk to me." He said urgently.
Aragorn blinked a few more times, and then he his eyes locked with Halbarad's.
"Strider, can you hear me?"
"Aye, I can. Just winded." Automatically, Aragorn had copied his friend's whispered voice, years of being a ranger taking over. Letting out a long sigh, Aragorn tried to sit up, but Halbarad pressed a hand on his chest and held him down.
"No, don't, we are not alone. Stay down."
Frowning, Aragorn gazed up at his friend, his mind trying to catch up with what Halbarad had said. Although he knew not of what his friend was speaking, he trusted him implicitly. "Where?"
"Up the hill, Strider, but I saw no one so far. We have to leave. How badly are you injured, can you move?"
Once more Aragorn tried to get up, but this time he did not attempt to get to his feet but remained in a crouched position. He grimaced as a sharp pain erupted in his chest, and even without examination he knew that some of his ribs were broken. But what was even worse was that the world around him shifted and the ground tilted to the side under him, making him sway dizzily.
Seeing Aragorn's problem, Halbarad quickly wrapped his strong arms around his friend's shoulders and then drew him close to steady Aragorn against his own body. He felt Aragorn sag against him and his level of worry rose a notch. It had never been Aragorn's way to rely on others, and to do so now betrayed his weakness.
Suddenly, Halbarad saw a dark shadow out of the corner of his eye, and he quickly turned his head to look up the hill. A figure crouched there, bow in hand and arrow nocked. It seemed to scan the ground below, searching.
"Strider come, we need to leave. Now."
Aragorn nodded against Halbarad's shoulder but he said nothing. There was no need to; Halbarad tightened his grip on his friend and supporting him as best as he could, he moved away from the hill and the still shrieking horse, deeper into the field of grass.
They more stumbled than actually walked away, with Halbarad supporting Aragorn and from now and then shooting quick glances over his shoulder at the dark figure that still crouched at the top of the hill. The screams of the horse grew fainter, but they were still there.
Aragorn was trying his best to walk on his own, but he felt dizzy and light-headed. Moving seemed to much of an effort for his lungs, as his breath soon came in short gasps. His ribs were on fire, but to his relief, Aragorn tasted no blood; his ribs might be broken, but they had not punctured his lungs.
His body hurt in various places, and he remembered being dragged down the hill by his horse until he had been able to free himself from the saddle. But then it had already been too late and the momentum of his horse and his own downward motion had flung him over his horse and into the grass.
Wincing, Aragorn tried to keep up with Halbarad's pace, but the various hurts in his body made him stagger. Immediately Halbarad tightened his hold on him, pressing on. Aragorn took a deep breath and released the air slowly, forcing the pain to the back of his mind.
He did not understand why Halbarad was saying they were not alone, or why they hid, but he trusted his friend. And if they were truly followed, then Halbarad needed his own strength and the full use of his arms should the need to fight arise.
Gritting his teeth and blinking a few times in rapid succession, Aragorn steadied his steps and pulled away from his friend. But Halbarad would have none of it, and he tightened his hold again.
"No, let me help you. We'll be faster. There is a cluster of bushes ahead where we can rest for a few moments." Halbarad whispered urgently, his voice tense with worry and anticipation.
"Alright." If Halbarad used that tone of voice, Aragorn knew there was no fighting against it, and so he simply hurried on.
For a few long minutes they moved through the tall grass, keeping their heads down and their bodies bend over. From now and then the chill breeze caught the grass and it swayed so strongly in the wind that they feared to be visible, but they heard nothing besides the agonized screams of the horse.
Reaching the cluster of bushes, Halbarad lowered Aragorn to the ground behind them, kneeling down next to him. He swiftly pulled his bow from his shoulder and nocked an arrow, and then peered through the branches back at the hill.
From behind the bushes he was able to see the field and the steep hill, but the horse could not be seen and neither did he see the mysterious figure which he had seen before. Halbarad could hear the shallow gasps coming from Aragorn and he briefly looked at him to make sure that he was still alert.
Aragorn nodded at him, but he made no move to sit up fully or turn around and gaze at the hill as well. He was lying propped up on his elbows, his face pale and the red trickle of blood that ran down the side of his face contrasted starkly with his pale skin. But his eyes were alert and sharp and so Halbarad nodded as well and then turned his attention back to the plain.
The grass bend under the force of the wind, the long blades swaying left and right, and a soft murmur lay over the site. The cloudy sky veiled the sun, and in the murky grey light Halbarad could not clearly see the base of the steep incline.
Breathing shallowly he waited, his bow at the ready. He was carefully watching the grass, as any movement contrary to the wind's movement could indicate the position of their pursuer. But he saw nothing, and after a few minutes he began to wonder whether it had probably been only a hunting accident and the archer had already left in fear of having killed someone.
But then, suddenly, Halbarad saw something dark move down the hill, and when his eyes caught the silver sparkling of metal, he knew that the archer was still there, and was following them. From now and then the shadow stopped in his descent, crouched low, as if to make sure that he was in no danger. Then, the figure reached the bottom of the hill and disappeared into the long grass.
Halbarad narrowed his eyes. They were too far away from the figure to use a bow effectively, but still, he needed to be careful that there were not more. For some moments he tried to pierce the grass with his eyes, but he saw nothing.
Suddenly, there was a horrid screaming from the injured horse and then…silence. Halbarad had no doubt what that meant, and with a cringe on his face he turned to look at Aragorn. Aragorn's face had paled even more, and he nodded grimly, a sad flicker in his eyes.
Halbarad took a deep breath and gazed back out across the sea of grass. Whoever was following them had just killed Aragorn's horse. Perhaps it was better that way, more merciful. The mount would have died anyway, but it nevertheless made Halbarad shiver to know that the archer had killed the horse so quickly and obviously without hesitation.
For many more minutes Halbarad watched the hill and the field, but he saw naught. No movement, no dark shadow, nothing. Adding to his unease was the fact, that he did not see his own horse; it must have fled. But with Aragorn's horse dead and in the hands of the archer and with his own horse bolted, they had barely no provisions or supplies. The only things that they possessed to help themselves were the things that they carried on their body, and that were mostly weapons.
To keep the bow at the ready and to crouch so low took its toll on Halbarad's shoulders and legs, and so he eased up the tension on the string of the bow. As it seemed, whoever had attacked them was not willing to reveal himself and risk to be shot while sneaking up on them through the swaying grass.
And Halbarad had to admit, the longer he gazed out at the field, the more his heart told him to take care of Aragorn. He had not been able to see to his wounds yet, and the fact that his friend had not yet sat up or helped looking for the archer was troubling him.
With a last probing look at the hill, Halbarad lowered his bow and sat back on his haunches. "Whoever it is, he is not brave enough to seek us out."
"That is well, Halbarad, for it gives us time to form a plan of our own." Aragorn's voice sounded strained, and when Halbarad turned and looked at him, he saw that Aragorn had lain down flat on his back without him noticing. His friend's eyes were closed, and the blood trickling from the wound to his head had soaked into the his tunic.
"Strider, how are you?" Halbarad was not able to keep his worry out of his voice, and he scooted closer to Aragorn while he spoke.
"Dizzy, sick to the stomach and sore."
This struck Halbarad almost like a blow to the head. Aragorn rarely, ever truly admitted how he felt. And if the did, it meant that he was either near death, or he was in a situation in which a lie would risk their lives. Halbarad hoped that it was the latter and not the former.
With gentle movements, Halbarad lifted the blood caked hair from Aragorn's temple and inspected the wound. "Have you broken anything?"
An almost rueful smile tugged at Aragorn's lips, "Some ribs, I think."
"Let me see." Halbarad quickly felt each rib, ignoring the small gasps of pain that left Aragorn's lips every time he found a cracked or broken one. Luckily, it were not many and Halbarad knew that Aragorn was used to the pain as this was not the first time he suffered from broken ribs.
"Two are broken, one cracked. Others are badly bruised."
Aragorn nodded, but he did not open his eyes and Halbarad suspected that his friend was trying to control his sick stomach. Halbarad used the time to examine the rest of Aragorn's body. There was blood on his tunic, right over both elbows and at his knees, but that was to be expected after such a fall. His cloak, tunic and trousers were ripped in some places, muddy and had pieces of grass on them. Nothing serious.
Bending over Aragorn, Halbarad once more inspected the cut on the temple. It was deep, but not deep enough to require stitches, which was good as they had no supplies. The cut bled sluggishly and Halbarad took out his knife and cut a strip of cloth from his cloak to press it against the wound to stop the blood flow completely.
Aragorn hissed through his teeth, but he held still and let his friend work. When the bleeding had stopped, Halbarad spoke softly, "Strider, open your eyes, just for a moment. I need to check if you have a concussion."
"No need to, I have one." Aragorn said, but his eyelids fluttered open nevertheless to reveal slightly dilated pupils. Halbarad could see that his friend was not able to focus on his face, and that even the murky light of the cloudy day caused him pain.
"It is well, Strider." He nodded, and with a small sigh Aragorn closed his eyes once more.
For a few moments neither of them spoke, but then Aragorn said softly, "What happened? I only remember falling."
"An arrow hit your horse and it slipped on the grass and then went down the hill. It dragged you along and when I had reached the bottom you had already fallen clear of it."
"An arrow? Are you sure?"
"Aye." Halbarad wiped a hand over his face. "And as I said, we are not alone. I saw a figure on the top of the hill, and he came down and killed your horse. But so far he does not approach."
Aragorn sighed and then he tried to sit up. "We need to leave. Is your horse still around, Halbarad?"
"No, I cannot see it." When Aragorn swayed and almost collapsed back to the ground, Halbarad quickly reached out and steadied him.
"You should not move, Strider. You are not well."
"But we cannot linger here if there is someone out there waiting to kill us." Aragorn said, and his voice sounded stronger, now that he had sat up. He had his arm wrapped protectively around his broken ribs, and he took deep breaths to fight his dizziness.
Halbarad knew that they could not linger, but he was also loath to leave, with Aragorn so injured. He cast a long look at the sky before he voiced his opinion.
"Let me bind your ribs first. It is already late, night should fall soon. We should wait here till it is dark enough to move on."
Halbarad could practically see the wheels turning in Aragorn's head. Of course his friend was as reluctant to stay as he was, but Aragorn was enough of a healer to know that his injuries needed to be tended to, and he was enough of a ranger to know that they would face better chances in the darkness of the night.
"Agreed, Halbarad. But we will head out as soon as it gets dark."
Nodding, Halbarad quickly glanced back at he plain of grass, but there was no movement, and then he began to cut his cloak into strips to use as bandages. He had not even cut the first strip when Aragorn placed a dirty hand on his arm.
"No, you will need your cloak to keep you warm, Halbarad."
"But we have nothing else, Strider."
Aragorn thought for a moment, and then he suggested, "We take half of your cloak and half of mine."
"No, you need your cloak more than I need mine, Strider. You are injured." Halbarad tried to reason, but he could already tell that Aragorn would have none of it.
"Precisely. And therefore you need your cloak as well, should it become necessary to fight for us both or bring… news to our people."
"Strider!" Halbarad could not believe what he had heard, although he knew perfectly well that it was only too true.
"That is an order, Captain." Aragorn said, obviously too dizzy and hurt to argue further, for he rarely ordered his friend.
"Aye, my Lord." Halbarad grumbled under his breath, and then he once more cut strips form his cloak and then from Aragorn's. He wrapped the broken and cracked ribs as gently as he could, but he felt Aragorn tense under his hands and hear him hiss.
With that done, they both sat down in the grass, still hidden by the bushes, and gazed out towards the hill. So far they had heard and seen nothing of their attacker.
When the sky began to darken, Aragorn asked softly, feeling the need to voice his thoughts, "Hal, do you think it might have been an accident? A hunter who thought we were game?"
Halbarad shrugged, but he sounded unconvinced, "It could be, but I doubt it. Would a hunter not have checked on us to make sure that we still lived?"
"Perhaps he was frightened."
"Maybe, but then why come down the hill, kill your horse and disappear? It makes no sense. No, if you want my opinion, I think it was an attempt to kill us."
Aragorn frowned, "An assassination attempt?"
"Would not be the first time, Strider."
"Aye."
And then they said no more, but waited for the cover of darkness to fall so that they would be able to escape.
To be continued…
