Part Two

By Degrees

Voices permeated his sleepy consciousness as Aragorn rolled over, tugging the warm sheets back up around his shoulders. Intrusive midmorning sunlight kept trying to sneak under the covers and pry his eyelids open. Though pulling the blankets over his face effectively blocked out the sunlight, it could not block out the voices, one of which was steadily increasing in volume. Eventually realizing he would never get back to sleep now, the ranger tossed the bedclothes on the floor, dressed quickly and followed the noise to the chamber above.

Haldir looked as though he hadn't left the table since last night though he had changed his clothes. And had company.

"You're overreacting. Again," the captain was saying to a stranger dressed in a grey and black uniform very much like Haldir's though the newcomer's bore a band of black on either sleeve denoting his rank. He had the same jaw line as the captain with long golden hair bound back from a leaner face. His bright eyes bore a mixture of concern and outrage.

"I am not!" the strange elf said, hands akimbo, his gaze boring into the captain's as though to pin him there. "As your brother, isn't it my right to worry?"

"You have a brother, sir?" Aragorn couldn't prevent himself from blurting out in surprise from the doorway.

"Yes, Rúmil, what are you doing here?" Haldir raised an annoyed eyebrow, grateful for the interruption as he cast a sideways glance in Aragorn's direction.

Rúmil gave his elder brother a knifing look that stated in no uncertain terms he was going to get an earful. "After three nights, I finally inquired of a rather furious Colonel Laer if he had heard yet from the captain of the northern border on the missives from the Mirkwood scouts. And he had the courtesy to inform me that my 'insurgent' brother had gone to pursue the orcs that had attacked the fences the night before. With six only under his command. Six! Haldir, what were you thinking? Rameil had to reassure me you were still whole since you didn't have the courtesy to inform us when you returned."

Completely unrepentant, Haldir grinned. "The colonel always speaks so well of me, I'll have to return the compliment."

"Haldir."

"And it was seven. Gilas was our runner."

"Haldir-"

"Rúmil, we have a houseguest, did you notice? Be polite and introduce yourself."

For the first time Rúmil spied Aragorn and distractedly nodded to him. "Good day. Haldir, you cannot think that Orophin and I would just-" He broke off. Slowly, he returned his gaze to his brother's 'houseguest.'

Aragorn waved hesitantly.

Rúmil bent down, close to his brother's ear and whispered. "You do know he's human, right?"

"And I'm sure he knows it too with you to tell him," Haldir said in a normal tone.

"To his people, he's Estel. He knows our language, Rúmil. Speak no secrets."

Flushing slightly, Rúmil turned back to Aragorn and belatedly grasped his hand. "I apologize for my rudeness…I-I was surprised, it's not often that we-"

Aragorn spared the elf further embarrassment and smiled easily. "It's all right. I understand. You probably don't get very many visitors out here, much less human ones."

Rúmil nodded, grateful.

Haldir glanced between the two of them and abruptly stood. "Well, good. Nice to see you two are chatty."

"I'm not finished with you, Haldir!" Rúmil called after his brother's retreating back.

"When are you ever?" the afflicted muttered back, making it quite clear that he didn't want Rúmil to follow him.

He did. "You will come to dinner tonight, then?" he pressed as Haldir held the door pointedly open for him.

"Yes, yes."

"Oh, and Haldir, don't-" Rúmil turned back only to find the door shut in his face.

Aragorn grinned as Haldir rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Even younger brothers have their right to be protective."

The elf glanced at him as he started back down the corridor. "How did you know he was younger?"

"His eyes. And the way he looks at you. I hero-worshipped my brothers when I was younger," the ranger's smile widened at the thought. "I still do, in fact."

Haldir burst into cynical laughter. "I hardly think Rúmil regards me with 'hero-worship' as you put it. His anxiety would put a mother hen to shame." He paused so suddenly Aragorn nearly walked into his back. "Do you want to come?"

"What?" Aragorn was too busy trying to regain his balance to understand the question at first.

"To dinner. Tonight. Do you want to come?"

"If it's a family occasion I really don't want to intrude-"

"Nonsense. I drag Rameil all the time," Haldir waved that barrier away with a flick of his hand. "You will have to suffer my brother's wife's cooking but at least you don't have to hunt- or eat the slops in the barracks room for that matter."

There was only one answer Aragorn could give to that.

"All right."

The nights were definitely growing cooler. Late autumn had already sprung into the trees, shifting them from their summer-green. The little pale niphredil and elanor were popping up too, nestling close against the roots of the mellyrn for protection from the wind. Dark locks drifted slightly as a biting draft swept through them. The sycamores and birches would already be browning and falling at home, Aragorn thought wistfully. He shrugged his collar higher up on his neck. An unusually wintry chill stained the air for still so early in autumn.

The restlessness that had plagued him the night before drove him to take a long walk along the river despite the cold this afternoon so he could gather his thoughts. A small frown creased his face. On the one hand, he wanted to be home- more than fortnight ago that's exactly where he should have been. He missed his father more than he had thought he would and his brothers-even though he had told Haldir how annoying their protectiveness was-he couldn't help missing their jokes and stories. Nevertheless it was hard to tear himself away from the beauty here; the land itself reminded him of long-forgotten tales as it folded into deep glens and wooded hillsides, the river no more than a vibrating trickle of dusky ink under a deepening evening sky, the sun a crimson flush on the gold leaves.

"Beautiful."

The softly spoken word made Aragorn turn though not start. Haldir stood almost beside him, arms folded more in contemplation than cold. His silver eyes swept with a mixture of pride and wistfulness over the vastness of the autumnal forest he protected.

"It's magnificent," Estel agreed, smiling as a light kindled in the other's eyes.

"Have you been waiting long?"

"No, not too," he fell into step beside the elf as Haldir led him off the little hilllside in the opposite direction of the barracks and deeper into the Naith of Lórien towards the more residential area outside Caras Galadhon.

"Not many live outside the city these days," Haldir remarked to mute the deep twilit silence. "Unless they're soldiers."

"Are there many soldiers out here, sir?" Aragorn asked, ducking a low branch. Despite the growing familiarity between them, he still felt it proper to address the elf respectfully until he could test the waters a little bit more.

Unseen in the gathering darkness, Haldir rolled his eyes. "I've told you before and I will tell you again-you are neither my ranker nor on my payroll. Stop calling me 'sir.' I'm old enough as it is."

Aragorn laughed. "I'll do my best. To be fair, you don't look it."

"Thank you." The momentary levity in the conversation slid away as Haldir answered his previous question. "Our numbers are unfortunately compromised of late. The Anduin is our greater concern with the darkness growing in Mirkwood…I had a missive from King Thranduil's captain only a few weeks ago about the spiders encroaching outside their hunting grounds and the possibility of orcs crossing the River."

"Even Lothlórien is touched by the growing Shadow then," many times Aragorn had been warned about the dangers of the world now and the part he would have yet to play in it.

"Even so."

"What did you do today?" the ranger asked, both to break the dark turn of the conversation and genuinely curious about what being a captain of the Lothlórien guard might mean on a day-to-day basis.

But the answer was not what he expected. Haldir glanced at him strangely, his face only half-seen in the dimming light. "I do not expect anything from you, ranger."

Aragorn looked at him and offered a small smile. "You can call me Estel, you know. I promise I'll stop calling you 'sir.'"

"Fine, Estel, then."

"What do you mean you don't 'expect' anything from me?"

"This…gratitude…this interest in my life…No human addresses an elf with such deference as you have shown me."

Aragorn slowed, momentarily taken aback. He had known elves all his life; it had become second nature to him to treat those around him with respect. But he had forgotten Haldir didn't know that. "Surely you don't think all humans uncouth and belligerent?"

The elf raised an eyebrow at him that had Aragorn echoing him with equal incredulity.

Haldir relented first. "You, at least, are less belligerent though only slightly less uncouth."

"Hey!"

"Definitely not cleaner though."

"Hey!" Laughter definitely tinged the young man's indignation though he still had half a mind to cuff the elf. He settled for muttering sullenly. "I resent that."

"I notice you don't deny it."

"I respect you, Haldir," Aragorn told him honestly, bringing their talk back around again. "I came to Lothlórien to see and learn from the Galadhrim. And I have been fortunate enough to add a friend into the bargain as well."

Haldir stopped. "Friends? That is what we are?"

Aragorn's face fell slightly, thinking he'd presumed too much as he halted a few paces beyond the elf. "I was hoping so."

"You do not know me."

Aragorn shrugged. "That's kind of the purpose isn't it? Befriending someone means wanting to learn more about them?"

"Perhaps some things are better off not being learned," Haldir murmured in a voice too low for Aragorn to hear. Abruptly, he resumed walking. "How's your shoulder?"

The change of subject did not go unnoticed with the ranger but he let it slide as he fingered the light bandage beneath his tunic. "It's healing well. The healer finally let me take the sling off today."

"Good."

A slightly strained silence fell between them as they turned down a path that bore signs of more recent use. Haldir seemed lost in thought and Aragorn, not wanting to interrupt him, watched the trees glide past. Were they friends? The elf hadn't exactly answered his question. He hadn't said yes which was a little discouraging but he hadn't said no either. In fact, he seemed mostly…confused. But about what Aragorn wasn't sure. With an uncomfortable, icy squeeze in his stomach, he suddenly remembered something one of the other guards had snarled under his breath when his captain had insisted on bringing the wounded man back with them to Lórien:

"You would think if you were tortured by men you would not let them dangle at your tail."

Haldir had been tortured by men. The very word, as unfamiliar to him as the act it represented, sent a shudder of cold horror groping down the young man's spine. He couldn't even begin to fathom it. Why would anyone- how could anyone-?

"What has lost you so deep in thought?" The dryly amused tone brought Aragorn sharply out of his dark contemplations. He glanced sheepishly at his companion, suddenly unsure of what to say and wondering if behind those inscrutable silver eyes Haldir was as conscious of his humanity as he suddenly was.

"I-uh, nothing. Nothing," Aragorn dismissed it with a last firm shake. He wasn't going to think about it anymore. Clearly, if Haldir had a problem with him he wouldn't have invited him to dinner. "How far is it to your brother's?"

"Not far now." Haldir said, pointing ahead towards where the mellyrn thickened. "He lives just-" He halted, his head twisting sharply away from the path, back in the direction they'd come.

Instantly Aragorn was on the alert. Dropping a hand to the sword girded at his hip, he hissed. "What did you hear?"

"I'm not sure," the elf whispered back, his eyes still ceaselessly scanning the silver trunks whose unfortunately still-thick collection of leaves shrouded the ground in impenetrable shadows. "Stay here."

But Aragorn had no intention whatsoever of doing that. The tension rolling off the elven captain was nearly palpable. Something was wrong. He could almost feel it. No birds sang, no insects chattered in the grasses. Autumn nights were not this quiet. Something was up and the trees knew it too. Even the leaves were still.

Aragorn automatically slipped into stalking mode as he plunged into the dark after the elf. The woods were pitch black and more than once he narrowly avoided tripping over hidden roots. But his straining ears had finally caught what must have alerted the elf. The dog's barking echoed through the silence, unmistakably close now.

He nearly stumbled over Haldir crouched at the base of a mallorn root a few hundred yards on. He had pulled up his cowl so his golden hair was completely obscured. The warrior turned sharply at the sound of his approach, a hand straying to the hilt of his sword. He straightened when he recognized who it was.

"I told you to wait by the path."

"You said so yourself you're not my captain," Aragorn retorted smartly, ignoring the furious stare trying to burn a hole through his face. "I don't want you to get into any trouble."

Only the strength of his renowned self-discipline prevented Haldir from seizing the ranger by the shoulder and thrusting him back towards the road. "It may be nothing."

"And it may not be," Aragorn argued, his dark eyes earnest. "We might as well find out together."

Haldir's spare smile was lost in leafy umbrage. "That is what friends do I suppose?"

Long patterns of light and shadow rippled across the branches. A few yards beyond, the Celebrant flowed furtive and silent under a half-shrouded moon. Its reed-lined bank quivered and rustled in a northerly wind. The faint starlight sending down searching fingers glinted briefly on something like metal, hidden in the dark.

Aragorn shivered and curled his overcoat closer around his body, thinking longingly of the warm talan they had so very nearly reached. Though his fingers were fast numbing he did not release his grip on his sword hilt. He had almost left it behind with his cloak. Now he was glad he had not. Crouched in the brush within sight of the river, he breathed quietly through his nostrils to keep the white plumes of his breath from giving his position away.

Haldir, in the tree above him, perched as still as a statue, his eyes searching the dark like a cat's. But his mind churned within. Reports of poachers had come by runner that very afternoon. He hadn't wanted Aragorn to know for obvious reasons. If the men threatened their borders, they would have to be dealt with and the sooner the better.

The marchwarden stiffened and rose a little from his curled position. An unsteady ripple marred the running surface of the Celebrant. A flash and then gone. Whether a trick of moonlight or something actually was there, too much foliage got in the way to be sure. Haldir settled back on his bough, the grip on his saber tightening imperceptibly. The humans would have to be stopped…they couldn't penetrate the Naith…the humans….

Taking his eyes off the now-still and empty riverbank, Haldir glanced down through the withering leaves at the dark head barely separate from the brush. He had never thought after all these years that he could stand being in one of their company. The word respect had confused him. Haldir's frown, unseen in the darkness, mirrored his battling emotions.

What on earth had possessed the ranger to say something like that?

Friend.

Now that was an interesting word. One Haldir had not heard from the lips of a human for a very, very long time. A feeling pierced his heart as keen and shrill as the northern wind. It took him a few precious seconds before he realized what it was.

Guilt.

A very young man about Aragorn's age, now very much dead, had rescued him from torment and probable death at the warring hands of the Gondorians' all those years ago. He rubbed his shoulder absently. One of the warriors had been exceptionally cruel and the marks had not faded from the elven body for many weeks afterwards. Only the young man had saved him. But-what was his name? He'd almost forgotten; he hadn't thought about it in so long. Tergon…Tergon had saved him. And in the end had died for it.

Two thousand years had not banished that grief, that guilt.

"Haldir?"

The elf started at the whisper of his own name, more mouthed than spoken. Clearly, he had been lost in thought longer than he realized and inwardly chided himself for the lapse. A soldier thinking about anything other than the peril at hand was a dead soldier. His former commander would have boxed his ears.

Aragorn though was looking up, trying to locate him in the shadows. Obligingly Haldir dropped silently down beside him.

Putting his lips very close to the ranger's ear so his words would not carry, he whispered. "The riverbank. If nothing is there, we'll go."

Aragorn nodded grimly and tightened his hold on his weapon.

A tingle like a sixth sense raced up Haldir's spine as they brushed through high bracken. Knowing the feeling too well to put it off, the elf proceeded cautiously, Aragorn right at his side matching him step for step. Their footsteps made no sound on the earthy floor as their legs whispered aside the ferns. Quiet breaths speared the air like specters. Ahead of them, the Celebrant rippled like quicksilver under the dimming moon.

He didn't know who set it off in the dark. But he heard the snick. Too late. Something whistled through the air and Haldir thinking fast shoved Aragorn onto his face. White-hot agony lanced through his arm up his shoulder and the marchwarden reeled, collapsing against a mallorn with a surprised cry.

Staggering upright with bits of leaves in his hair, Aragorn took an automatic step forward trying to locate the danger. A hunter's trip wire lashed instantly around his ankle, tightening painfully as he tried to pull away. Aragorn tried digging his fingernails under it to pull it free but the barbs cut his fingertips. As Aragorn grappled futilely to free his leg a ringing pierced the silence like an alarm: a bell attached to the snare to alert the hunters of their trapped quarry.

They had not long to wait.

"Well, well, look what we got here," a voice as slick as oil slid out of the shadows as one by one shapes appeared out of the brush or rose from the sandy riverbank. The moonlight glanced off the lethal tip of a loaded crossbow.

More shapes emerged from the shadows around them, all armed, all with weapons trained directly at the two.

Aragorn narrowed his eyes at the speaker, trying not to wince as pain throbbed up his ankle. The realization of their situation crashed heavily down on him as he briefly met Haldir's wide gaze.

They were trapped.