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Chapter 7: A blessing in disguise

"Halbarad!" Feeling the tiny hairs in his neck stand on end when Halbarad's pain filled scream reached his ears, Aragorn hasted to the downed man's side. He fell to his knees, ignoring his own bruises, and grabbed Halbarad's shoulders.

"Hal? What happened?" It was too dark to see by now, and all that Aragorn could make out clearly were his friend's scrunched up face and the iron trap that held him captive. But, that did not mean that nothing else had happened.

"Arg, my leg. I stepped in a …damned trap." Halbarad grunted in pain. He sat bent over, with his head resting on his drawn up knee, his hands gripping his leg just under the knee. Red blood seeped between his fingers and the knuckles of his hands shone white under the skin.

"Does something else ail you? Were you attacked?"

The only answer Aragorn got was a shake of Halbarad's head. By now, the amount of blood that stained his trouser leg and boot was dripping onto the ground. Taking a quick but thorough look around, Aragorn shifted nearer to Halbarad's right leg. There was no doubt in his mind that this trap had been laid by the assassin; there were no settlements this far south from the road and hunters never came here for there was no game. No, this trap had been set up to stop them.

Licking his dry lips, Aragorn eyed the trap. It had snapped shut around the leg in the middle of the calf; the teeth of the trap had entered the flesh, making gruesome wounds that bled freely, while only the bone had been able to stop them. Had a smaller animal or even a younger man than Halbarad stepped into his trap, the trap would have severed the leg from the body.

Valiantly trying to block out Halbarad's pants of pain and the slight rocking motion he had started to deal with it, Aragorn unsheathed a dagger from his boot. "Hal, I need to open the trap."

"I know." Halbarad ground out between clenched teeth. Sweat stood on his brow and his breathing had sped up to the point of it becoming dangerous.

"Take deep and slow breaths, Hal. I will tell you when I start." Aragorn kept his voice calm, despite the urgency he felt. The trap looked anything but new; rust and mud and Valar knew what caked the metal, and here and there Aragorn meant to see dried blood that did not belong to Halbarad.

With the weak light of the moon, Aragorn ran his fingers over the underside of the trap, searching for the mechanism that wound open it. When he found it, he cursed inwardly. He should have known that the assassin would destroy the opening mechanism!

Schooling his features, so that Halbarad would not see his concern, he began to search for signs of weakness in the metal, but to his dismay he found none. With red blood covering his hands, he gripped the hilt of his dagger tighter.

"Hal, I need to pry the jaws open. It will hurt a lot."

"Go…ahead. Nothing I have not been through…b-before." Halbarad gave Aragorn a weak grin that did nothing to assure Aragorn, before he took a deep, shuddering breath and fisted his hands into his cloak, so that he would not lash out at Aragorn once he began to work on the trap.

With a last, worried look at his friend, Aragorn scooted closer to the jaws of the trap. With all the blood covering the iron, he could barely make out where the leg ended and the trap began, but after a moment Aragorn set to work.

The dagger slid easily between the jaws of the trap, close to the base where Halbarad's boot had hindered the trap from snapping shut very tightly. Moving the dagger upwards and turning the blade from left to right, Aragorn slowly pried the jaws open, if only marginally.

Gripping the jaws with his free hand, Aragorn tried to open them further. The blood made the metal slippery, causing him to cut himself on his own dagger. He ignored the pain that lanced through his left palm and instead tightened his grip on the jaw. By now, the teeth were halfway out of Halbarad's leg; if he lost his hold on the trap and let it fall shut again, the bone would probably not stop the teeth this time.

When the trap was coming open, Aragorn cast his dagger to the ground, using both hands now. Halbarad was gasping from the pain, having clenched is eyes tightly shut. His dark hair was soaked with sweat and clung to his face, while his skin was so pale it shone white in the moonlight.

Slowly, Aragorn rose on his knees, using all his strength to open the trap completely. To his surprise, the mechanism of the device did not allow the trap to be opened easily once it had been first opened. Instead, it became even more difficult to pry the jaws apart now that the trap was not shut anymore.

A shuddering breath left Aragorn's lips. The exhaustion of the last days and his own injuries made themselves known now that the first excitement was over, and Aragorn felt the muscles in his arms begin to tremble. Sweat appeared on his brow and the cough that he had tried to suppress all day itched in his throat. If he coughed now, he would surely lose his hold on the trap!

"Hal, you must help me. Can you move your leg?" Aragorn brought out, while trying to hold the trap open.

A moan reached Aragorn's ears, but a moment later Halbarad lifted his head. "C-can't. Hurts too…much."

"You must, Hal. I can't hold the trap open much longer." The trembling in Aragorn's arms had reached his hands, and before his very eyes the jaws of the trap began to close again.

"Halbarad, you must lift your leg and pull it out of the trap."

Another groan left Halbarad's lips, and with a grimace of pain he tried to lift his leg off the ground. Almost immediately a cry of agony resounded across the plain and Halbarad fell back, panting.

"Can't. I can't."

Feeling his throat itch more and more, Aragorn said as sternly as he could, given the circumstances, "I won't say it again, Captain. Move!"

Moaning, Halbarad gripped his right leg just above the knee and slowly, very slowly lifted his foot off the ground. With a grunt of pain he lifted his leg further and then out of the trap. The leg had just left the confines of the trap when Aragorn's strength gave out and the jaws snapped shut with a sickening sound.

For a second both rangers sat on the ground, panting, before Aragorn wiped a hand across his sweat covered brow. Scooting closer to Halbarad, he quickly took Halbarad's hands in his own and pressed them against the puncture wounds, while he began to cut stripes of cloth from his own cloak.

"Keep your hands pressed on the wounds, Hal. We need to stop the bleeding."

Still panting to channel the pain, Halbarad opened one of his eyes and glared up at Aragorn, "Sometimes I hate you, you know that." His voice sounded only partly angry, and Aragorn knew that Halbarad was not truly serious.

Ripping a long strip of cloth from his cloak, he answered, "I know, Captain. I know."

For the next half hour Aragorn kept Halbarad's leg elevated, so as to give the wounds I chance to stop bleeding. He wrapped the wounds with the bandages he had made, but he had neither water to clean them, nor herbs to counteract any poisons that might have been covering the trap's teeth.

Sitting back and gently lowering Halbarad's leg back on the ground, Aragorn sighed wearily. "The bleeding has stopped. The bandages will have to do for now, Halbarad. When the sun has risen and I have more light to see by, I shall take a closer look at the wounds and see if there are any objects in them, like stones or grass."

"Great. Something to look forward to." Halbarad said sarcastically, but his words lacked his usual strength. The exhaustion of the days past and the blood loss had sapped his strength.

"Can't you give me something for the pain? I mean, there are so many grasses around us, and some bushes. Surely some of them have healing powers."

"I wish I could, Halbarad." Aragorn rubbed his broken ribs ruefully. "Nothing that could help us grows here."

Sighing in frustration, Halbarad said sarcastically, "And here I thought travelling with one of the best healers West of the Misty Mountains would help keep me alive."

"Even I cannot produce healing herbs out of thin air, Halbarad."

"Ah, aye. Remember me to ask Gandalf how to do it next time we meet him." Halbarad wiped a hand across his eyes and sighed wearily. "My leg hurts."

Snorting, Aragorn patted his friend's good leg. "At least you still have your leg and the bone is not broken. You were lucky Halbarad. This trap could have crippled you for the rest of your life."

A grimace flittered across Halbarad's face. "With this injury, our lives will not be that long anyway. We will not be able to escape the assassin and reach the ford."

Coughing, Aragorn only shook his head. When the coughing fit eased, he commented. "Then, perhaps, it is time to change our tactic."

Frowning, Halbarad asked, "What do you mean, Strider?"

"Well, up until now we played by his rules. Perhaps it is time to change that. From the beginning this assassin has been one step ahead of us. Literally." Aragorn grimaced in dismay, but quickly went on, "You are right. With you injured thus and me…well, not up to my usual self, we will not reach help in time. No one will be looking for us for the next few days at least; we are on our own. So, I say we stop being the mice and become the cat."

"And how are you planning on doing that? We have no means to set up traps of our own."

A small smile flittered across Aragorn's tired face. "But what better traps than ourselves?"

And while Aragorn helped Halbarad into a standing position and then across the plain into the direction the rock formation that they had been heading in, he began to explain the half formed plan he had in his mind.

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With Halbarad's injury, Aragorn supported most of his weight during their march to the rock formation, which had caused his own injuries to flare to new levels of pain. The slight fever rose during the night and the cough worsened as well. But, given Halbarad's own pain and exhaustion, he had not bothered to comment on it. As it was, there was nothing that could be done, anyways.

The frequent breaks they took to rest gave Aragorn the opportunity to catch his breath and check on Halbarad's wounds, but every time they rose again to move on, he felt his head spin. His thirst worsened his sore throat, but by morning Aragorn no longer felt the pain. It was a bad sign, he knew, but he was too tired to really care. Still, both of them knew that should it not rain soon, they would die because of thirst long before the assassin killed them.

The walk towards the rock formation took them the whole night and most of the next morning. When they finally reached the rocks, they were so exhausted that they simply slumped to the ground, unheeding of the danger they probably were in, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Aragorn was the first to stir, only a few hours later. And, it was not by his own wishes that he woke, but because a dry coughing fit made his body tremble and the breath catch in his throat. Sitting up, he bent his head over his knees and tried to draw deep breaths into his lungs, but it did not work and the fit did not lose up.

For many minutes he coughed and coughed, unable to control his breathing, and when the coughing spell finally left him, his muscles felt shaky, his broken ribs send a fiery pain through his chest and his head pounded in the rhythm of his heartbeat. Sighing, Aragorn did not sit up but stayed slumped over his drawn up knees. When had his cough gotten so bad?

"Strider, are you alright?"

For a moment Aragorn considered not responding to that stupid question at all, but the concerned tone of Halbarad's voice made him lift his head. "I am sorry I woke you. Rest a bit more, Halbarad."

Snorting, Halbarad sat up with a grimace. "Na, I am not really tired anymore. Slept enough." The huge yawn that nearly split his face in two made Aragorn raise an eyebrow.

"No, really Strider. I am awake." Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and glancing around, Halbarad scratched his bearded chin. "So, how are you?"

Aragorn sighed briefly and resisted the urge to lift his hand and massage his pounding temples. "Worse, but not beaten yet."

Scooting a bit closer so that he could get a better look, Halbarad questioned, "Has your wound started to bleed again?" Halbarad might have been in too much pain the previous night and much of the morning, but now, after having rested, his head felt clearer and he knew that supporting his weight during their march might well have reopened the stab wound.

"Um, I don't know." Lifting his tunic and shirt, Aragorn ran a hand across the bloody bandage that covered his upper body, but when he removed his hand there was no fresh blood on it. "Apparently not. And by now the wound should have healed enough to not bleed again."

Halbarad gave him a brief smile, "Unless someone uses you as a punching bag."

"Aye. But lets hope it does not come to that. How do you feel?"

"Better, actually. Sleeping has helped." Halbarad gave their surroundings another long look. "What now?"

Aragorn let his eyes travel across the sunny plain. From their position, the Hoarwell River was only a shiny ribbon in the far, far away distance. The rock formation rose many feet into the sky, providing shelter for many birds and animals, but in this time of year most of the birds had left for warmer reaches and the mountain goats had moved off to the East, to find better feeding grounds.

When they followed the rock formation eastwards, they would have cover on one side for at least a whole day. After that, they would be out in the open plains again, with nothing but the high grasses and some trees for cover.

Suppressing another cough, Aragorn gestured at the river, "That is where we want to go. So, we will go there."

"Ah, yes." Halbarad shook his head. "Can you be a bit more specific, please?"

Raising an eyebrow, Aragorn tilted his head to the side, "What? I was not specific enough for you, Captain?" Humour glittered in his eyes despite his hunger and thirst.

"Did you command your armies like that while you were in Gondor? No wonder you had to leave there, surely they thought you to have lost it." Halbarad teased.

Something akin to hurt flickered through Aragorn's eyes and in the next second he turned his head away, gazing out at the plain. With a matter of fact voice he said, "We will stay close to these rocks, for shelter and protection. Once we reach the outcroppings in the east, we will wait for nightfall and then make our way across the plains and towards that cluster of trees you can see even from here. From there we will be able to reach the river in only a few hours. The steep banks of the Hoarwell will give us cover and enough water and food to sustain us until we locate the ford and therewith the ranger outpost.

"We will travel during the nights and rest most of the days. I know that traversing these rock formations at night is suicidal, but the moon will provide us with enough light to see by. And I take the rocks any night over an assassin that is out to kill me."

Aragorn gave Halbarad a strange look. "Precise enough?"

"Strider, I did not mean to…I mean, I did not want to suggest that your leaving Gondor had anything to do with…"

Before he could finish his apology, Aragorn interrupted him, "No offence taken. Come, let us move on. It is only a few hours from dusk and we should search for some water before we head out tonight. Perhaps these rocks have held the water from the previous rainfalls better than the plains."

And with that, Aragorn got to his feet, using the wall in his back for support. He held out a hand for Halbarad, who took it gratefully, and soon they were on their way again. The stonewalls made for an excellent support for Halbarad, and so Aragorn was able to scout a bit, while Halbarad followed more slowly.

With one hand shadowing his eyes and the other supporting his weight against the wall to his left, Aragorn gazed out over the open plain. The sun would set soon, and so far they had found no water. There had been some very small puddles in the shadows of the rocks, but it had not even been enough to wet a handkerchief. If they did not find water soon, his plan to rest during the day and travel at night would not work out. They had gone a day without anything to drink, and soon they would feel the first true signs of the lack of water. Hallucinations among them.

When Aragorn saw nothing out of the ordinary, he turned his head and gazed back the way he had come. Halbarad was just making his way around a bend in the rock formation, braced against the stonewall and more hopping than actually walking. Dried blood covered most of his pant leg and boot, but the bandage was still relatively blood free, much to Aragorn's relief.

Turning, he slowly made his way further east. This scouting not only gave him the chance to dictate his own speed, but also gave him the opportunity to think about what had happened back at their resting place.

Why had he taken Halbarad's teasing words so to heart? Perhaps it was only because he was tired, hurt and hungry. That would make everyone's temper short. Sighing, Aragorn shook his head. No, that was not the reason he had practically insulted his friend. No. It was more the fact that Halbarad's words had reminded him of the fact that he had no home in Gondor any longer.

Once, when he had been Thorongil, Gondor had been his home. He had enjoyed his life in Minas Tirith for a long time and had had many good years in the White City. Until, well until he had become a bit too good, a tad too important to the Lord Steward. It had saddened his heart when he had left Minas Tirith and Gondor behind, and his return to the North had not truly helped to fill the gap that his leaving had left in his heart.

Given, living in Gondor had not been easier than being a ranger. He had had his share of fights and battles, bloodshed and misery. As a Captain, he had been responsible for his soldiers and he had seen many a honourable men die on the battlefield. But still, it had been different responsibilities than he had now.

Being responsible for soldiers who knew that they could die every day was something completely different than being Chieftain of the Dunedain. Rangers, women, children…

Aye, it was different. Perhaps even more difficult than leading a whole army.

But that was not the only reason he had been so short with Halbarad, and Aragorn knew it well. Being reminded of Gondor had only driven the point home, that he had no place to call home. Not in Imladris, not in the Dunedain villages, not in Rohan, or Gondor or anywhere. At least, these places no longer felt like home to him.

Aragorn sighed wearily and licked his dry lips. He would apologize to Halbarad, but he knew he would not be able to explain why he had acted as he had. That would simply take too long and Aragorn felt that he had neither the will nor the constitution to do so now. Maybe once they were back in the village…

Suddenly, Aragorn stumbled over a sharp rock and, being unable to catch his balance, he fell forwards on hands and knees, reopening the shallow cut on his left palm and scratching his fingers on the stones.

"Great. Simply wonderful." Grumbling under his breath, Aragorn moved to get back to his feet, when he suddenly stopped dead in his movements. He blinked in surprise. Then, a genuine smile lit up his face.

"Well now, that fall was a blessing in disguise."

To be continued…