Daniel ducked as the sword came whirring for his head, parrying with a stiff handed stab to the ribs with one of his long knives. His opponent danced backwards, but too soon he was moving forward again. This time when the sword slashed towards his ribs he was ready. Catching the long blade on one of his knives, he slashed upwards with the other, prepared to injure his opponents sword arm.
The action did not have the desired result.
The man spun nimbly to one side, the blade of his sword coming to rest on the back of Daniel's neck.
"Good." Aragorn sheathed his sword with a metallic hiss. The archeologist had seen the ranger cut through the limbs of orcs and uruk'hai alike, and the memory of that cold steel against his neck gave him an involuntary shiver. "You're remembering you have two blades instead of one. But-"
"I know, I know," Daniel muttered as he slid his own blades into their leather scabbards. "Move my feet more."
Aragorn nodded. " A man's best weapon can sometimes be his agility. Still, you learn faster now than you did before, Daniel. Soon you'll be better than Jack."
The archeologist turned and looked further into the practice yard, where Jack and Legolas were sparring. More accurately, Jack was trying to keep his skin in once piece while the elf seemed intent on taking it off in small sections. Still the colonel was holding his own, barely, even though he was sweating and red-faced. Sam and Merry were being taught the dirtier aspects of fighting like a dwarf, which included a lot of shots below the belt. Daniel winced as she repeated a move with a pair of short handled axes that was meant to unman her opponent. Teal'c was kneeling in the room the men shared, catching up on what had to be weeks worth of kel-no-reem after warming up with them a few hours ago.
The impromptu session had begun shortly after Gandalf and Pippin rode to Minas Tirith. After last night, despite pounding heads and stiff muscles, all agreed that they needed to catch up on sorely needed training, and to blow off some of the steam that had been collecting since Pip's early morning look into the palantir. After the initial fear wore off, and Gandalf assured everyone that Pip was none the worse for wear, Daniel was certain that all of their small company were about to form a line to throttle the hobbit.
He could have sworn he saw Gandalf and Jack drawing straws to see who would go first.
"How long will it take them to reach Minas Tirith?"
The ranger tilted his head. "Perhaps three days, if they ride hard. I wouldn't be surprised if Gandalf made it in two."
Daniel didn't understand it. Gandalf was taking Pip to the white city, practically on Sauron's doorstep, if any of the maps he'd seen were any indication. He supposed better to be somewhere other than where the enemy was looking for you, even if it meant being under his nose.
"The closer you are to danger, the further you are from harm." That's what Pip said had convinced Treebeard to disobey Gandalf and take them to Isengard, a fact the hobbit was inordinately proud of. Daniel still couldn't fathom that Pip actually believed that. Then again, it probably explained a lot of the things Pip did.
"Green as new grass, they are."
Legolas raised a brow at the dwarf's assessment of their friends. Perhaps not so raw as that, but enough. He supposed that they fought very well with the weapons of their own world. All except Daniel showed promise with fighting hand-to-hand, but that wouldn't be enough to help them when the final battle came. And there was little doubt in his mind that it was coming, sooner than anyone wanted.
"They will have to do," Aragorn's quiet voice carried over the din of the evening meal. The four in question were in a far corner, regaling a group of children with tales of their adventures. "They've survived so far."
Legolas nodded in agreement. They had, better than he would have thought possible. Perhaps Daniel was slightly clumsy, Jack older than anyone wanted, and Sam weaker than most men, but those things couldn't be changed. The three worked well and adjusted to their surroundings swiftly and with ease. That had saved more lives than simple fighting knowledge alone ever had.
"The beacon remains unlit. Gandalf has been in Minas Tirith a day at least." The elf looked to the east. "The eye has settled firmly east of us. The White City is the only place he could be focused on."
"And the last real reserve of men," Aragorn said faintly, turning looking into the setting sun. No doubt he was dwelling on memories of Minas Tirith, seen more than two decades ago. "She will fall if there is no aid."
Gimli placed a steady hand on his friend's arm. "Gandalf will think of something, Aragorn. That old wizard is yet full of surprises."
Legolas smiled. Despite Gimli's gruff exterior, he found himself liking the dwarf more and more. A fact he would never have even considered possible a year ago. Battle made strange bed fellows, of that he had always known, but how much stranger than a king of men, an elvish prince, and a dwarvish lord?
"So, how's your head this day, Legolas?"
The elf lifted one blond brow at the dwarf's question. "Far better than yours, I would imagine, friend Gimli. I understand you nearly beheaded Joram for waking you this morn."
The dwarf smiled wryly, but said nothing. Truth be told, Legolas had learned the hard way that human brews, while some were not nearly as potent as those he'd grown up with, could still lead to the same ridiculous behavior.
For example, his handling of Samantha.
At any other time he would have gone to her father and apologized, profusely, for taking advantage of his daughter. While more than a little drunk, no less. With her father unavailable he would have gone to the person directly responsible for her, Jack. While he doubted his offence was serious enough to cause a breach in their friendship, he was fully prepared to accept the reprimand he would get for his actions.
There were only a few problems with this course of action. The first being that, once Samantha found out what he had done, she would no doubt be willing, and able, to bloody him for taking such steps to appease her honor. From what he had heard over the course of their journey such things were frowned upon in their own world, something about being able to fight one's own battles. The second being that she would more than likely not speak with him for some time if he did. And the third being that Jack would probably give him advice on how to succeed where the elf had failed, if he admitted to it.
The fourth, and most damning in the elf's opinion, was that he didn't truly feel that he had done anything wrong. True, the two of them had consumed more liquor than was intelligent. True, he had allowed himself to get carried away with the moon and starlight shining down on Samantha, giving her a glow that could rival that of any elvish maid. But none of these things compared to the rightness of her in his arms. It was that feeling of rightness that staid his hand. The slightest bit of guilt would have sent him to the colonel and Samantha's friends in a heart beat, but when he searched his mind he found none.
"You're blushing, my friend."
The light words from his friend brought Legolas out of his musings, and he blushed all the harder once he realized that he was doing so. Both Aragorn and Gimli were watching him with unveiled interest. Aragorn, he knew, would not dare risk asking what brought that blush to his face. Of Gimli he was not so sure, and any questions would raise even more potentially embarrassing ones before the two would be satisfied.
"I need to check the armory," Legolas said, whirling away from his friends and walking out of the long hall. "The fletcher should have finished the order by now."
Jack stood on the watchtower at the back of Edoras, alternately looking down the sheer drop which had to be more than one hundred feet, and up at the night sky. Carefully, he charted distances and directions of the most visible stars in relation to earth, making careful note of those stars and constellations that should have been faint but weren't, and vice versa. After careful consideration it was decided that, since astronomy was his hobby, he should be the one to take care of charting their present position.
In truth, the colonel wouldn't have minded very much. Ever since returning from Abydos the first time astronomy had been his passion, something to take up those nights that seemed empty after his wife left. Sitting on the roof of his house, with his state of the art telescope with GPS positioning and several different star charts had been a great way to pass the time.
Sitting on a wooden tower hanging above a hundred foot drop, a quill in one hand and a large piece of parchment in the other, with only a long piece of wood as a ruler and freezing his ass off, was another thing entirely. And according to the people at Edoras, spring was nearly there. Someone must have forgot to let winter know it was time to pack it in.
"At least the moon still follows the normal path," he muttered to himself as he made yet another notation on a star that shouldn't have been visible in the northern hemisphere, but was there nonetheless. It was confusing, trying to find his bearings in such an alien sky. That there were recognizable constellations made it all the more difficult.
"How have you fared, Jack?"
Despite himself the colonel gave the slightest jerk, barely any movement at all. He remembered all too well how loud the wooden ladder creaked when he climbed up it hours before. Knew damn well that the twelfth rung would nearly fall out from under you unless you kept your feet to the sides because the center of it was nearly rotted through. That Aragorn managed to not only climb it silently, and ghost across the equally creaky tower on which he was seated, pissed him off to no end.
"Other than needing to unthaw my ass, all right." The colonel finished measuring the distance between two stars and stared at nearly five hours of work. Unless you knew how to read a star chart, it was just a scrap of skin with a grid and little dots and squiggles drawn on it. "We're definitely not in Kansas anymore."
"Kansas?"
Jack fought the urge to sigh. What he wouldn't give to be in a place where more that three other people got his movie references. "Wizard of Oz, one of those moving picture shows. In a nutshell, it means we're somewhere very different from home." But at the same time we are home, the colonel thought, glaring hard at his chart. I'll wash George's underwear for a month if that isn't Cassiopeia.
Aragorn sat down next to the colonel, swinging his legs over the edge of the platform. "What do you plan on doing after reaching Minas Morgul, Jack? I have heard Samantha say that this is your world, only another shade of it. Where then can the portal take you?"
Jack shrugged. "Sam will figure something out, I hope." He looked down at his hands. "She always has before."
"And if she cannot?"
"Well, we'll find a little corner of Middle Earth and settle down. Something with a nice lake, some ruins nearby, and a stretch of good soil. I spent time farming once. It's not bad." He leaned back, stretching out the muscles of his lower back before laying down and staring up at the stars. "Maybe somewhere near Rivendell, if they'll take us. Daniel's been dying to study the history of the elves and compare it to our fairytales." A shooting star flew overhead "I can say one thing for Middle Earth, no light pollution." No pollution at all. No smog, no industrial waste, no power plants. Paradise wrapped in a bottle.
When one discounted the evil being intent on taking over the planet and destroying humanity for who knew what reason.
Pippin stared at the ceiling, tracing the intricate design etched into the gray marble, his eyes constantly going to the window of their apartments. East of them, the green beacon still blazed, the tower of light disappearing into the heavy clouds that covered Mordor. The black lands were entirely too close for comfort, and left to his own devices he would have been on a stout mule heading back to the Shire.
But he couldn't.
In the green glow from the east the chain mail on his new armor gleamed like black water. The garb of a Gondorian soldier was laid out neatly on a chair in the corner, the silver tree and seven stars stitched on the breast facing him. A Took never ran from his responsibility. Shirked it certainly, side-stepped it when he could, but never ran from it when it stared him in the face. Tomorrow he was swearing fealty to Denethor, and might never see the Shire again. Even if he did, there was a nagging fear that he wouldn't see it with the same eyes.
Gandalf snorted in his sleep, then muttered something that could have been another language, or simple gibberish, hands laced over the palantir in it's leather case. The wizard had been doing that often since his return. Where before the tall human would settle down for the night and sleep like a stone. Now he tossed and turned, mumbled, even speaking in clear words to no one at all with eyes heavy lidded and open. Pippin managed to see all this because, since looking into the palantir, he hadn't been able to sleep.
On occasion, he'd been able to catch a few hours here or there, but never through the night. Several times he woke up screaming, trapped in a nightmare and seeing that terrible eye boring into him, trying to drag out his secrets. He remembered Sauron, the sense of something collected into one space, like a cloud in the shape of a man. He had been amused at first, asking if Saruman thought it funny to send a halfling in the wizard's place, and his name. When Pip hadn't answered the energy changed, creeping through him, searching for answers. Then the sensation of being pulled, yanked away from Sauron and into darkness. Then Gandalf's voice in that blackness, and waking to see everyone standing over him, concern written on their faces.
Pip sighed and rolled out of bed, wiggling his toes in the thick fur rug. Sleep was a long time in coming, and he doubted he would find it before the sky started to lighten. He walked over to the chair and picked up his sword. The metal made a sharp hiss as it left the scabbard the light making the blade a sickly green. Guardian of the Citadel. A citadel that was soon to be under attack, according to Gandalf, by all the forces that Sauron could bring together. Minas Tirith would be the first to fall.
As suddenly as the green beacon in the east lit, it was gone, leaving an inky blackness in it's wake. Even the sound of Mount Doom, the rumbling that was almost constant in the white city, was gone.
In the darkness, Pippin slid the blade back into its scabbard.
Thank you thank you thank you for reading this. Apologies for the distance inbetween postings. Special raspberry cheesecake thanks goes out to Panther28, gaul1, Weredude, Shorlixa Dragoness-Spirit, lamb chops, rolo-rooni, Kalina, chevron92004, Methrill, organized-chaos, Wolfca, Sorrow1, Elf Ranger, LOTRFAN, Popples, korrd, midnight-flurry, Misty, ork hunter, Gatokari, technetium, Technomage-Ranger, Wormhole Explorer, Ptath, Silver1, Istar, Chevron92004, Legato with vengeance, Vinny and Nex, Something Freakey, Cid Dante, Shanna, Raz 42492, CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur, Tabitha, Kits, Chibi Mo, Thranduril and last but never least Istar042000. THANK YOU so much for your support and your comments.
Some of the things in this chapter came from the book, so don't start throwing tomatoes at me just yet.
Now, to answer a few questions:
Will there be citrus in this story?
Yes, but it will be mild, and it will be posted on for those people who don't want to read it. I'll let everyone know when and where.
Will they ever find the stargate?
Yes, they will. Will it really be in Minas Morgul? Maybe
Will there be a sequel to this story?
Yes, there will. But when that comes out, I don't know. But I have been thinking about it.
What does Sauron think of SG1?
At the moment, he's very curious. Especially about Teal'c, but they arent his main concern.
Okay, that's it.
Writegirl.