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 4: Out of the frying pan and into the fire
When night fell cold and dreary, Halbarad and Aragorn left the cover of the bushes and stole silently through the grass. Low hanging clouds veiled the moon and the stars, and with the little light that they had they were forced to move slower than they wished. The night was eerily quiet, and their movements seemed to be too loud, even to their own ears.
The rest that they had taken had done Aragorn some good; the dizziness had receded to a point where it was merely a nuisance but no longer a hindrance, and the various hurt his body had taken by tumbling down the hill had stopped throbbing. The only thing that now truly hindered him were his broken and bruised ribs, which send fiery stabs of pain through his body every time he took a step.
Aragorn was enough of a healer to know that the concussion he suffered from and which was now latent and sleeping would awake soon and assault him, and so he pressed forwards, despite the ache in his chest.
Soon, the two rangers had left the cluster of bushes far behind them and had vanished in the darkness of the night. The terrain they traversed became more rocky and unsteady the further they got, and once they even had to backtrack and find a new route because the ground became too unsteady to cross at night.
A cold wind blew into their faces and made them shiver under their reduced cloaks, and Halbarad could tell that Aragorn must be suffering under the cold temperatures and the strain he was putting his body through, but so far Aragorn was not complaining and Halbarad knew that he would not.
Midnight came and went and still they hurried on, but they slowed their pace. That was, Aragorn had slowed his pace and Halbarad was glad he had done so. They were still moving too fast for his liking and he would have suggested a rest long ago, had it not been for Aragorn's stern look every time he tried to say something in that regard.
But no matter how strong Aragorn's mind was, his body had taken much abuse that day and was not willing to keep up that speed. Sooner or later, they would be forced to take a rest, and Halbarad hoped that it would be out of their own volition and not because his friend collapsed.
For some more hours they made their way across the plain, all the time keeping low to the ground and an eye and ear open to any sounds of pursuit. So far, they had neither seen nor heard the one that had followed them down the hill, but that did not mean that he was not there. If it had been an assassination attempt, then the assassin would not give up that quickly. They never did.
Suddenly, a flock of bird only a few yards to their left rose from the high grass, twittering angrily and making a loud racket. Halbarad and Aragorn stopped dead in their tracks. Not once during the night had they woken any birds; rangers never did when they travelled in the night, for they knew what they had to look for to avoid being detected.
Breathing heavily with their mouths open to make as little noise as possible, Halbarad and Aragorn knelt down in the grass and listened, their senses alert. Silently and slowly, Halbarad unsheathed a long dagger from the hidden sheath in his boot, the blade of the dagger making no sound as if left the leather sheath.
Licking his dry lips, Aragorn tried to pierce the darkness with his eyes. The long trek through the night had helped his eyes adjust to the blackness that surrounded them, and he was able to make out most of his surroundings. Still, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, but his senses told him that someone or something was near.
Locking his eyes with Halbarad, he lifted two fingers to his eyes and then pointed them to their left, before he pointed them at Halbarad and to the right. The rangers had perfected their own sign language, and Halbarad had no problems understanding what Aragorn meant.
He nodded, and as silent as a cat he made his way to the right, while Aragorn made his way to the left; both heading in the direction from whence the birds had risen. They would try to encircle their enemy.
Unsheathing his own hunting knife, for his sword would have been to cumbersome to use in this situation, Aragorn crept through the swaying grass. His vision was unstable and the images he saw blurred at the edges. The light-headedness had returned and the fact that his ribs were throbbing and hurting immensely did not help his situation. Neither did the fact that his legs felt slightly wobbly under him.
He knew that his body needed a rest, but he also knew that they had to put as much distance between themselves and the assassin as possible. And if the assassin had been able to come so close to them without them noticing, then it was indeed time to take care of him. Now.
Crouching down on all fours and ignoring the pain this caused his already bruised knees, Aragorn slowly moved through the grass. The wind was the only sound he heard, but that did not mean that he was alone.
There!
His heart beat faster in his chest and he felt the familiar rush of adrenalin surge through his body. Only a few feet in front of him the grass was flattened, as if something heavy had made its way through it. The stems of the grass were broken, some even torn from the ground. Aragorn was close to whatever it was that was following them.
Gripping the handle of his knife tighter he sneaked forwards, barely breathing. The wind changed direction, making the grass stems whip into his face, but with the sudden wind came a gap in the grass and Aragorn stopped dead in his tracks.
In a heartbeat he pressed his body flat to the ground, unmoving, holding his breath. His heart beat in his chest and he could feel his blood rush in his ears. A warg! What was a warg doing in this part of Eriador? So far from the Misty Mountains?
But there was no mistaking the great figure of the wolf that lay in the grass, munching away on two dead birds that it had caught. Blood was dripping down the beast's short muzzle and its yellow eyes flickered evilly, but so far it had not smelled Aragorn.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Aragorn slowly backed away from the animal. He knew that in his present condition he stood no chance against the warg. He needed to warn Halbarad and then attack the warg together, or even better, flee. From what he had seen of the warg the animal was starved, and a starved warg was more deadly than a horde of orcs. Normally, he would have taken on a warg any time, but already injured, with lack of sleep and an assassin on their trail, retreat was the more logic way of handling this.
Aragorn had already put some distance between himself and the warg, when the beast suddenly raised its ugly head, sniffing the air. Its ears turned left and right, listening, searching. Pressing himself to the ground and holding his breath, Aragorn ceased all motion.
He heard the warg sniff and then a deep and menacing growl left its throat. In a flash the beast got to its paws, growling. And then, it charged. Aragorn gripped his knife, ready to defend himself and jumped to his feet, but immediately he saw that the warg was not attacking him, but…Halbarad!
When the wind had changed direction it had carried Halbarad's scent directly to the warg. Cursing under his breath and unsheathing his sword while still holding his knife, Aragorn charged after the warg.
"Halbarad! A warg!" Aragorn did not know whether his friend had already identified the threat, but better to be safe than sorry.
Only a few seconds later, the sounds of battle reached his ears, and when Aragorn broke through a thicker cluster of grass, he saw that Halbarad was fighting fiercely. His dagger was embedded in the beasts shoulder, but that only angered the animal further, and it was growling and circling the ranger.
Just when Aragorn reached the site, sword and knife at the ready, the warg jumped at Halbarad with a guttural howl of rage and hunger. The beast threw Halbarad to the ground, but before Aragorn could react, a loud screech of pain filled the air and the warg shuddered violently, before it moved away from the downed ranger.
"Halbarad!"
Aragorn rushed forwards. He could not see his friend as the body of the warg blocked his view. Red blood was running down the warg's side where Halbarad's sword had lodged itself deeply into the thick hide, but the beast was not dead yet. Pain and anger drove it, and with a howl it turned around and then charged at Aragorn.
With barely enough time to avoid being run over, Aragorn turned sharply, twisting his body and slashing at the warg with his sword, while his knife buried itself deeply into the wargs back. But his motion had come a tad too late, and the warg barrelled into his legs while the beast fell to the ground.
It landed halfway on Aragorn's body, pressing him to the hard ground. Grunting, Aragorn quickly lifted his sword and drove it deeply into the wargs unprotected neck, killing it in one swift stroke. In a last effort to survive, the warg tried to turn on its back, legs flailing and yaws snapping, but then it shuddered in the throws of death and breathed its last.
With a deep sigh Aragorn let his head fall back to the ground, breathing heavily. The world swam before his eyes and his ribs throbbed painfully, and for a moment he had the feeling as if he would have to suffocate. But then it passed and he turned his head into the direction of his friend.
"Halbarad? Are you alright?"
"Aye." Came the groaned reply, and a moment later Halbarad got to his hand and knees, shaking his head in an obvious effort to clear his vision. "Just winded."
A small grin appeared on Aragorn's face. "I think I heard that before."
Halbarad snorted in answer and then made his way over to Aragorn, who had not yet moved from his downed position. The dead warg lay sprawled across his stomach and legs, but at the moment Aragorn had not the strength to roll it off of him.
"And you, Strider? How do you fare?" Halbarad knelt next to his friend and with a look of disgust he shoved the warg away, retrieving the dagger and knife in one swift move.
"I fared better." Aragorn answered, but when he saw the mounting concern in his friend's face he added quickly, "At least it was not Toby the pig breeder this time, but an evil warg."
Halbarad huffed, but then reached his hand out and helped Aragorn into a sitting position. "This here does not mean that I will forget Toby."
"I feared so."
While Halbarad cleaned his weapons, Aragorn used the time to control his breathing and the dizziness that had stolen over his mind. The fight had not helped his condition, and he knew that, although he had not sustained any new injuries, he could not move on much further tonight.
Soon, the two rangers were on their way again, but it was obvious that Aragorn was tired and in pain. Halbarad saw the lines in his friend's face that indicated both, and he also detected the barely visible stumbles and missteps that his friend tried to hide.
They moved on for another hour before Halbarad had finally enough. During the last half hour he had seen his friend's face go from merely pale to white and then grey, and he had also noticed that Aragorn had problems breathing.
In the not so far distance, Halbarad could make out the outlines of a small wood. To be frank, it were more some trees that grew there than a real wood, but it would suit his purpose perfectly.
He altered his course slightly and as he had hoped, Aragorn followed his lead without questioning. None of them were truly leading the other; they both knew where they had to go. The forest contrasted against the slightly lighter sky, and the closer they came the darker the trees looked.
A few minutes later the two rangers entered the cluster of trees, picking their way through dry bushes and gnarled tree roots. The earth was dry and the underbrush scarce. As Halbarad had thought, the forest was merely an assortment of trees, and he could even make out the other edge of the small wood, but it would provide a good cover for the coming day.
Spotting a suitable tree, a tall oak with a thick trunk and a relative smooth bark, Halbarad stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath. He felt tired and the muscles in his back and shoulders ached from the constant crouched position and the fight with the warg, and deep inside he knew that he needed the rest as urgently as Aragorn.
"Halbarad, why do we stop?" Aragorn asked through his slightly wheezing breathing. He had stopped next to his friend, his body slightly bend over and one hand pressed firmly against his side.
"I think we should stop here for the day, Strider. The trees will provide a good cover from prying eyes."
Aragorn let his eyes travel over the trees and the few rocks, taking in the leafless branches as well as the dry ground. He nodded. "Aye, let us rest here for the day. There will be no other cover for leagues."
Halbarad blinked. Had Aragorn just agreed with his suggestion to rest? Halbarad had already formed his retort and his argument in his mind, but for Aragorn to simply agree to his suggestion, that was…new.
"Uhm, yes. Good, then…" Halbarad cleared his throat, and then tried again. "Good, then let us rest here and regain our strength. From what I saw of the sky, it will rain or snow today. This oak seems a suitable resting spot, for the branches are thick and intertwined. It will keep the wind at bay and at least part of the rain."
Aragorn gave him a queer look and then shook his head before he let himself glide to the ground, one hand supporting his tired body against the tree trunk. "Hal, did you really think I would argue with you about us stopping here?"
"Well, yes." Halbarad sat down next to Aragorn, resting his back against the trunk, which was wide enough to hold at least four men.
A snort came from Aragorn, before he asked tiredly, "Am I so unreasonable sometimes?"
"Well, Strider, you are known to be stubborn from time to time, and reckless, and determined, and…"
"Thanks, point taken." Aragorn interrupted, and although his voice sounded annoyed, Halbarad could clearly hear the mirth in it.
Pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulder to stave off the cold wind that found its way through the forest, Halbarad gazed at his friend. "How do you fare, Strider? How is your head?"
Aragorn, who leaned against the tree with his eyes closed and one arm wrapped protectively around his ribcage, grimaced slightly. "The concussion is not so bad, I am just a bit dizzy from time to time. Nothing to worry about."
"Aye sure, and that warg was a nice furry puppy that only wanted to play."
"Hal…"
"Strider, we are out in the wild, with no provisions, no horses, no help, leagues from the next village, you are injured and there might be an assassin on our trail. I need to know how you fare."
A soft sigh left Aragorn's lips and then he nodded. "My ribs truly hurt and I have problems focusing. I am dizzy and slightly sick."
"Is that all?"
"That is all."
Halbarad gave Aragorn another stern look, but then he leaned back against the tree and sighed wearily. His body ached from the restless march and he felt tired, hungry and thirsty. Almost automatically he reached to his side to take out his water flask, only to then realize that he had left it with his horse.
Sighing, he grimaced at the thought that they had no water, neither to clean their wounds, nor to still their thirst. Just then, the clouds in the sky opened and it began to hail. Thick hailstones rained from the heavens, bouncing of the leafless branches and hitting the ground hard.
The two rangers huddled closer to the tree and tightened their cloaks around their shoulders, pulling their hoods up to protect them. The hailstorm intensified and the fall of the hailstones became so loud that it was nearly deafening. Halbarad and Aragorn tried to cover their arms and legs with their cloaks and bowed their heads towards their chests. Then, they waited.
The storm raged for long minutes, but then the worst was over, as it usually was with hailstorms, and the hail turned to sleet and then to an icy rain that dripped from the branches and trickled down the tree trunk to soak the backs of their cloaks. The ground turned into mud, and the two rangers lifted their tired bodies up onto some gnarled tree roots; still, within minutes both men were sopping wet and shivering in the cold.
Sighing, Aragorn closed his eyes and tried to relax. His body hurt and now that he was not moving any longer, his muscles became stiff and hard. He would have problems moving at all in the morning, or rather, in the evening.
"At least we have water now." Halbarad commented dryly, and despite his pain and tiredness Aragorn chuckled softly.
"Count on you to see the bright side of this misadventure."
"Well, one of us has to be the optimist, Strider. And besides, it could be…"
"No, don't say it. Don't you dare say it." Aragorn quickly shushed him, eyes glimmering in the darkness.
"Ah come now, Strider. It could be…" Before Halbarad was able to finish his sentence, a bright flash lightened the sky and a few seconds later loud thunder made the very air tremble.
"…worse." Halbarad finished softly, grimacing.
To Halbarad's surprise, Aragorn chuckled softly beside him, and his friend sighed deeply. "Halbarad, sometimes I ask myself why I keep you around. You attract trouble like cheese the mice."
"I attract trouble? I do not think this assassin is after me, Strider." Halbarad said before he could stop himself, but as soon as he saw Aragorn's face in the lightning of the thunderstorm, he slapped himself mentally.
"Strider, I am sorry, I should not have said that."
"No, you are right." Another sigh left Aragorn's lips and he sat up straighter. When he next spoke, his voice sounded determined. "So, what are we going to do? If this man is truly after us, we cannot escape without a horse."
Halbarad thought for a moment, and then said haltingly, "We could turn back to Bree, try to escape the man."
"I don't know. Across the open plain and all the way back to Bree? There would be no cover for days."
"Then what do you suggest?" Halbarad scratched his nose and gazed into the darkness surrounding them. Dawn was not far away.
"Well, if I am not mistaken there is an outpost close to the ford at the Hoarwell River."
"Aye, some of our best men are stationed there, as it is one of the few ways to cross into The Angle. But Strider, the crossing is at least five days from here. In this weather perhaps a few more."
Aragorn looked at Halbarad, his face grim. "Then let us try to stay alive for five more days."
"Aye." Halbarad nodded. He knew it was their best chance to get out of this alive, but still. The way to the ford was dangerous and long, although it would provide better cover than the road to Bree. But with Aragorn already injured, with no supplies and in this weather, this would be five very hard and exhausting days, even for rangers.
They sat in silence for long minutes, both men musing over their next course of action. Dawn was just creeping over the horizon when Halbarad felt Aragorn shiver beside him. Cursing under his breath for not noticing it sooner, he reached out his arm and laid it across his friend's shoulders.
"Come here."
"Halbarad…"
"No, you are cold. And I am cold. Come here now." And with that he drew Aragorn closer until his friend's head rested in his shoulder. It was true, Halbarad was wet and cold, but as a ranger he had long ago grown accustomed to these kinds of discomforts. But Aragorn, being injured, needed the extra warmth.
"Strider, get some sleep. I will take the first watch."
"Wake me for my turn, Halbarad. You will need your sleep."
"Aye, I will wake you." Halbarad drew Aragorn even closer when he felt the shivers that raced through his friend's body, and within mere minutes Aragorn had fallen asleep. The dawn was not greeting them with the sun, but with a grey twilight that replaced the darkness. The thunderstorm moved further West and the rain ceased.
When Aragorn shifted in his sleep, Halbarad readjusted his position so as to be more comfortable, but while he did so his hand brushed past Aragorn's side and Aragorn hissed in his sleep.
Confused and worried, Halbarad bent over and carefully lifted the wet cloak away from his friend's side. Aragorn had not woken, and so Halbarad lifted the outer tunic as well. He saw it immediately and cursed silently. In the grey light of dawn, he clearly saw the red blood that drenched the tunic and shirt, and the bandages that were still wrapped securely around Aragorn's side and the stab wound he had received in Bree.
The wound had started bleeding again.
To be continued…
