Apologies for the LONG delay- work and RL I'm afraid. Just all very busy.

Summary: Aragorn asked Elrohir to find the Lost Stone of Amon Sul which he believes is still somewhere in Amon Sul. This is to fulfil a prophesy about reuniting the Kingdom of Arnor with Gondor and he thinks he needs this to give him legitimacy. Elrohir meets up with a Ranger, the son of Halbarad who is called Baranor, and they find it in a hidden chamber beneath the ruined tower.

Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli had a message from Sam that Merry was missing and embark upon a journey to help find him. They travel through the Andreth and emerge on the high moor. Legolas goes missing- he finds himself standing on the edge of a stone circle surrounding a great barrow; this is the barrow of the Last Prince of Cardolan. Meanwhile, Aragorn and Gimli have met up with an Elf who calls himself Vanwë. Interestingly, this is the same Elf who found Merry and nursed him back to health. He is, of course, Maglor.

Meanwhile the Hobbits have set off to investigate the strange happenings on the Barrow Downs; there are bonfires, and sightings of strangers, riders on the Barrow Downs. The Hobbits have met up with Baranor and now Elrohir. They have said they will help the hobbits investigate this.

Historical reminders:

Arnor was split into three realms: Arthedain, Rhudaur and Cardolan. Rhudaur sided with Angmar, the Witch-King in the Angmar Wars and the King of Arthedain (Arveleg) promised the Palantir to Cardolan if they fought with him (my verse). However, Angmar attacked before this promise could be kept and Angmar killed both Arveleg and the Prince.

Malbeth was a seer who predicted that Aragorn would walk the Paths of the Dead (remember them?) He also made other prophesies regarding the Kings of Arnor including one about the reunification of the Kingdom of Arnor.

Over the Sea there lies a long shadow/ Ancient ghosts enslaved by the Dark. /The ruined Tower trembles, / For what is beneath the earth, devours bones; /That which was lost must be found, / For the hour will have come for the Faithful

And Sam remembers this from when they stayed with Tom Bombadil during the FOTR:

'Who shall sound the horn in the hills, ringing? /Who shall call them back to the grey twilight, those Kings of Old? Shall he free the faithful and restore the lost Kingdom? Not once shall he pass the Door to the Dead, / Not alone shall he pass but alone he will return.'

Aglâb-Mahal: ley lines.

Felagamîl- the ability to find the way, out of a mine usually, but also by hearing the Song of Mahal in the earth (ley lines, magnetic fields, whatever you think it is. That power in the earth.)

*this incident is at the end of 'More Dangerous, Less Wise'. Chapter: Amon Sûl

OK. Phew. Right, on with the story. NEXT chapter will be out soon- already written and beta'd.

Beta: Anarithilien- thank you for your ENDLESS patience

Chapter 17: MAGLOR

There was no trace of Legolas anywhere near the Ranger's hut, although they called him and searched for him with increasing fear.

'He has been taken by the Úmaiar, that Men called the Barrow Wights,' said Vanwë quietly. 'We will not find him here. He has been taken to one of the barrows, but I do not know which one. Maybe the Iaun-Gynd itself.' He looked about himself, at the still grey fog that seemed to wait, watching silently. 'There is a Way, marked with stones, the Annan-mên, the Long Path. It leads to the Rhûd-Calan where the great barrows are.' He looked about himself and sighed. 'But in this fog, I am not certain I can find the way. Almost it seeks to hide him from us.'

Aragorn glanced at Gimli, for Vanwë had said that the Úmaiar harvested the souls of Men but that he did not know what they might do with an Elf. It had frightened them to hear this and with this fog, how were they to find him? With Merry already missing, (for Aragorn did not know that Merry had been found and indeed, the Hobbits were not far away in Bree,) Aragorn began to feel that for some reason, members of the Fellowship were being stalked.

Vanwë climbed up the slope towards the Ranger's hut, and as he did, the fog seemed to part for him as if it feared to touch him. Aragorn did not think that the Elf's name was really Vanwë. Vanwë of where? Of what House? He felt he had seen his face before, or perhaps it was that the features were familiar in another face? But he could not quite place them. Vanwë's was the stance and carriage of a warrior accustomed to command. His stride was long and athletic, his back very straight. Inevitably, he had the elegance of all elves, but something else too; he moved as if he heard music, an unconscious rhythm in all his movements.

What was true, he knew intuitively, instantly, was that Vanwë was very ancient, and very powerful. Aragorn had learned to recognise that strange otherworldly light in the eyes of Elves who had come from Aman, that legend told had seen the Light of the Trees, although Elrond was dismissive of such stories. Myths and superstition, he called them. Whatever it was, Vanwë had that strange light in his eyes, but he was haunted too, Aragorn could see, but so many of the ancient elves had the same despair and Aragorn knew his history well enough.

A sword hung in a plain sheath at Vanwë's side and Aragorn could see Gimli straining his neck to look at it. There was a glimmer of chainmail beneath the rough tunic and long boots. As they climbed the slope towards the hut, Vanwë scooped up a pack that he must have flung down when he fought with Aragorn and slung it over his back. A helm was tied carefully beneath it. The long cheekpieces would clasp the warrior's face like cupped hands, thought Aragorn, recognising the design as from the Beleriand Noldor. Vanwë's clothes and cloak were worn, well repaired and patched. Itinerant then, Aragorn thought. But not one of the wandering Companies such as Gildor Inglorion led. Certainly not Silvan, he decided as he followed the elf. At first, he had thought Vanwë as he called himself, was from Mithlond. But he was all Noldor and carried himself with an unconscious grace that was more defined, more cultured than most elves.

A refugee from Ost-in-Edhil? And earlier, from Beleriand?

Mist swirled about the Rangers' hut where the horses waited anxiously, heads thrown up and ears pricked. When they saw the men, they gave soft huffs of welcome and Roheryn dipped his head towards the stranger to snuffle at his hands. But Arod did not, he remained alert and standing with his head high and nostrils flared, searching the air for Legolas. Careless of Roheryn, he swung his hind quarters round, backing into the other horse and shifting anxiously. Suddenly he whinnied, a loud tremulous call. If he were honest, Aragorn felt like doing the same, shouting as loudly as he could into the mist for Legolas.

Gimli gave a quiet exclamation and went over to Arod, speaking softly. For a moment, Arod lowered his head to Gimli as if seeking reassurance but then he was circling restlessly in the pen once more.

'He's looking for Legolas,' Gimli said and Vanwë nodded agreement.

'He is not here.' Shoving his cloak over his shoulder, Vanwë rested his hand upon the pommel of his sword. 'I cannot hear him. His Song is very distinct,' he added, and then turned to Gimli. 'I told you, we must go the Iaun-Gynd to begin. Can you find it? It is built upon the …' He seemed to grapple for the right word. 'Ayglab-Mahal? You will use…. ah, what is the word?' Vanwë looked down exasperated with himself for a moment. Then he looked up. 'Felagamil? Felagumul?'

'You seem to know much of my People,' Gimli said caustically for the Dwarves kept their language secret, known only to themselves. So it was said and repeated frequently by Gimli himself. 'And your pronunciation is dreadful.' Then, unable to help himself, he said slowly, 'Aglâb-Mahal. And it is Felagamîl.'

'Aglâb, of course.' Vanwë shook his head at himself as if he should have known better. Then he gave a strange forlorn smile. 'My brother would be horrified at my error. He was close to an ancient Uzbad, and he learned much. They were our allies… and my brother's friends.'

'Well they should have known better to keep their mouths shut and not share our ancient secrets,' Gimli snapped.

Uzbad? Aragorn frowned; he had never heard that word for Dwarf before in Imladris or Lothlorien and the words for Dwarf in Mirkwood were much less polite and certainly no secret. It must be specific, meaning Firebeards, or Longbeards perhaps? Who was Vanwë's brother that was ally and friend of dwarves? Celebrimbor was the best known Dwarf-friend of Narvi, but he had no brothers.

'It was not a secret back then,' Vanwë's mouth tugged at the corners. 'Many things were spoken of freely, but it was before Doriath and …the sundering of the Elves of Doriath and Dwarves.'

Gimli sighed and relented. Then more kindly, he said, 'Another time I would be interested to hear about your brother and his friendship with my ancient kin, but now, yes. I can use…' He hesitated, then sighed and shrugged, 'Felagamîl,' he conceded. 'I need to feel the earth beneath my feet to hear to the Aglâb-Mahal that Mahal inscribed in the earth.' He stood for a moment and let the earth steady him. The he stamped his feet rhythmically as if he were hearing a song. 'There is much Power in this land,' he said gravely. 'Ah, good rocks and bones of this land. Here.' He tapped a foot gently. 'Here it is.' He hummed in satisfaction. Then stamped again for emphasis and rocked back on his feet and Aragorn knew he would be feeling the pull on his blood and earth-sense and orientating himself, finding the place the sun rose and behind him, where it set, letting the pull of magnetic energy find him and only then did he look up.

Gimli slowly turned; his eyes half closed as if listening in the way that Legolas did to the Song. He tilted his head to one side and then slowly opened his earth-brown eyes. 'It's that way,' he said.

'Come then,' said Vanwë, and he opened the gate of the enclosure and Gimli led Arod out of the enclosure, his hand on the horse's neck. Vanwë looked at Gimli, mild amusement on his face. 'No saddle? And clearly no bridle either. You just hang on tight?'

'I always hang on tight,' Gimli said uncompromisingly, and with a smile, Vanwë swung lightly over Arod and reached down for Gimli's hand, pulling him up easily and as familiarly as if he were Legolas himself.

Aragorn hurried to throw the saddle over Roheryn's broad back, puzzling over Vanwë's identity; ancient, First Age Noldor who must have come over the Sea with either Fëanor or the Ice with Fingolfin. Add to that a brother who was an ally and friend of the dwarves, enough that he knew ancient Khuzdul. Aragorn tightened the girth and Roheryn dipped his kindly head towards Aragorn for the bridle. Just because he is not known in Imladris, or Lothlorien, he may yet be known in Mithlond, Aragorn conceded.

He noted again the worn clothes but very fine armour and sword. In Imladris, there were whispered stories of a First Age warrior who sometimes appeared when elves were in great peril and beset. And at the start of the War, Glorfindel had led a troop of elves away from Imladris to distract the Nazgul from the Fellowship's departure. * It was Maglor himself, as Elrohir had told him, who had ridden to Glorfindel's aid and driven off the Nazgul.

Aragorn swung astride his dear, patient Roheryn and the horse turned his head to follow Arod. More flighty and skittish, Arod snorted and pulled, wanting to be off but at Gimli's cry of alarm, he became meek as a lamb. Vanwë turned his head to look over his shoulder at the dwarf clinging tightly to his waist, and Aragorn glimpsed the eight pointed star on the cuff of his sleeve, so faded as to be almost invisible.

0o0o

They had ridden for miles, Gimli sometimes sliding down and walking a way, feeling the earth as he said, and then pointing ahead through the fog. Aragorn strained his eyes searching for any sign of Legolas, but they could only see the ground immediately in front of them, for the fog hung silently watchful over and around them. It seemed unnatural, this fog though it cleared as Vanwë approached, as if it could not bear his touch.

Away to their left, a curlew cried its eerie haunting cry that sounded flat in the fog, but it was no more than that. There was no track but there was no need for it; they simply followed the way that Gimli set.

Aragorn followed Gimli carefully, inching forwards in single file, leading Roheryn. Although sure-footed for a Man, Aragorn knew he was still clumsier than a Dwarf or Elf and he stumbled at times or slipped on the small pebbles and stones they could not see beneath their feet. The horses too kicked a stone now and again or slipped. Ahead of him, he knew that Gimli listened to the land, the rock beneath his feet, hearing the chimes and creaks of the earth, knowing always, even at night, or lost in the mist, where was the Sun, the Moon, the magnetic pull of the Earth.

'Up here,' said Gimli, indicating a steep incline that disappeared into the fog. He shrugged. 'I can only say the path goes here.'

It was too steep to ride, and they dismounted and began to climb. The hillside was ridged, and Aragorn thought it must once have been a hillfort. Gimli had fallen behind and he could hear the Dwarf's heavy breaths behind him.

Vanwë looked back over his shoulder. 'I think this will take us onto the Barad-Arth. It was once a fortress, the highest on the Tyrn Gorthad.'

Aragorn believed him for they climbed a long way, and the sides were very steep, the horses' hooves slipped at times, and he could see Roheryn straining. But at last he saw that Vanwë and Arod had disappeared over the top ahead of him and knew that they must almost be there. He stopped for a moment to let Roheryn breathe and looked back down to where Gimli struggled tenaciously behind him. The Dwarf was red-faced and blowing with the effort, but he carried his axe and wore the mail shirt he always wore, and Aragorn could only admire his strength.

'Come,' Vanwë's head appeared over the ancient rampart. 'This is the top. But a little further and you will be here.' His voice was resonant and filled Aragorn with energy. It was a voice you wanted to hear, to listen to. He felt that he could sit at this man's feet and listen to him speak anything, just words. And that made him wonder whence came his Power? And what was that Power?

Up on the top of the ridge, the dense fog suddenly thinned to a fine mist that lay over the downs like a grey, undulating sea. Tall stones emerged from it like sentinels, and further away, he could see an avenue of menhirs, some leaning inwards or toppled, some standing erect like fingers pointing to the sky. But this ancient fortress where they stood had been razed completely by Angmar, every wall demolished, every stone scattered, every soul killed, and their bones scattered.

Gimli came puffing over the brow of the ridge and joined them. The horses took advantage of the pause to graze and Vanwë pointed out a spring where the water was fresh and clean. They filled their water bottled and let the horses drink their fill. Where the spring bubbled up, some huge stones lay and Aragorn thought they must once have been part of a wall, and the spring must have once supplied the fortress. A sadness filled him for what had been lost; Cardolan was desolate, haunted, forlorn. Arnor torn apart and ruined.

'The fog has lifted,' Vanwë mused. 'I wonder why it has gone now.' He thought for a moment and drank from his newly filled water bottle. He wiped his mouth. 'Those stones mark the way. They were erected in times that were ancient even to the House of Hador when they wandered into these lands and then west, ever west to Beleriand.' His eyes were distant and dreaming. 'The Annan-mên, the Long Path, leads to the Rhûd-Calan. It is a very ancient sanctuary, the stones there stand very tall and link the sky with the earth, the stars with the sun, fire and earth. And at its heart is the great Iaun-Gynd, through which the sun passes on the Long Day.' He turned back to Aragorn and smiled slightly. 'So it is said.'

Aragorn had seen the stone circles himself, once, long ago. He and Halbarad had climbed the ancient ridge trail from Bree, moving along the stone-marked paths, gradually circling inwards in concentric circles like a labyrinth until they came to the Sanctuary; the high built barrows with their chalk faced walls that gleamed in the moonlight, the key stones with their strange, mystical carvings of spirals and swirls that nether Aragorn nor Halbarad knew. They had stood and stared, wondering about the silent lords and princes and warriors who lay beneath, careless that the barrows were haunted by the Wights, for they had not been seen nor heard of for long ages. It was only when Angmar had passed through at the beginning of the Quest that the Wights had been roused and stirred. He and Halbarad had wished to enter one of the barrows, thinking to look upon the bones of their ancestors but the great key stone was too large and lay over the entrance so they could not pass.

'I have been there once,' he said quietly. 'With my old friend, Halbarad of the Angle.'

'Halbarad?' Vanwë said enquiringly. 'That is a Cardolan name.' He smiled.

Aragorn was a little taken aback; he had not known that. But it was a thousand years ago and more that Cardolan was inhabited. He remembered now that Brianna, Halbarad's beloved wife, had claimed that she was descended from the Princes of Cardolan. He frowned for he had completely forgotten. Brianna had given that old horn of her mother's to their eldest boy, disappointed at the last that she had no girl to pass it on to. What was the boy's name? He could not remember and there was only a distant memory trembling at the edges of his consciousness. It could not be important, he decided and looked down at the ground, hoping for a sign from Legolas that he had passed this way.

But Vanwë put his head to one side and regarded Aragorn thoughtfully. 'You seek to reunite the Kingdom of Arnor.' It was not a question and Aragorn reeled back like he had been bitten. 'Do you seek that which was lost? You learned the verse of the Prophesies of Malbeth.' Now he stood very close to Aragorn and his eyes were dark and deep. His voice was low, soft and he asked, 'Is it you that will sound the horn? Will you be the one that goes into the dark?''

Aragorn could not look away, for Vanwë's eyes held him; he felt as he did when Galadriel searched his soul, stripped to the bone and laid bare all his motives and promises, all his dreams and fears. He wondered if Vanwë knew about the Lost Stone of Amon Sûl, if he knew if the story told in secret by the Dunédain was true and the stone was buried somewhere still on that abandoned hill. 'I do seek to bring peace to Eriador. And I do know the prophesy.' He paused and glanced at Vanwë and then decided he must know. 'The Lost Stone will lend me legitimacy amongst those Men who live in Arnor, of Enedwaith and Minhiriath, those Men who live in Harlindon and Forlindon. They only know of some distant King of Gondor and that is not enough. I need to bring peace to this troubled land,' he said and thought again of the ruins of Tharbad and the empty farmsteads and abandoned villages. 'I want to make it safe for people to live here. But to do that, I need them to believe in me the way the people of Gondor do.'

Vanwë smiled and looked away, releasing Aragorn from the search of his gaze. 'The Stone caused much bloodshed and mistrust. It would be right to heal those ancient wounds.'

'You have the look of him, you know …. Arveleg,' the elf said. 'I stood for a while beside him, while Angmar raised his army and Rhudaur argued and delayed and lied.' He tilted his head and looked again at Aragorn as if searching for something. 'I know what was in his heart.'

A strange prickling traced along Aragorn's skin. 'Who are you?' he asked at last.

Vanwë cocked his head, and his eyes were deep and sad. 'You know my name,' he said.

0o0o