I'm finally back! Much rejoicing! Details will follow the story, but I won't get in the way of that anymore now. So, ewok dance of joy for all, and enjoy!

Chapter Eight

Elladan leaped to his feet suddenly, staring at the city in shock. Behind him, he heard Aragorn doing likewise, but the Elf ignored the king, squinting into the distance. His face was slack with surprise and confusion. Someone shaking his shoulder finally roused him, and he glanced at Aragorn.

"What is it?" the man asked anxiously. Elladan turned back to the distance before he answered.

"Horses. Riderless." His voice was as blank as his face as he told what he saw. "They speed from the city, and there is commotion on the walls above. Beyond that, I cannot tell; all is far and the sunlight catches on the grass."

Aragorn drew in a breath with a hiss. "Can you see nothing more?"

Elladan shook his head, frustrated. Even the farsight of Elves has limits, and though his eyes were clear and could see for great distances, he could not see everything. The sharpest-eyed hawk would envy the Elf his vision, but it was not infinite. Usually he could see better than he needed, but now the distance and the sun defeated him. Elladan tried to center himself and let go his frustration, knowing that his temper all too often got in the way of things—as his father had told him many, many times. Elladan had lived many lives of Men, but he was not old in the way of the Eldar, and occasionally acted out of anger rather than thought.

Even if I could see the horses clearly I would know little more, he told himself. He could not see through walls, even those as thin as the wood that surrounded Ostad. All he knew was that the horses were galloping fast and bore no one on their backs. Where those riders had gone, he could not tell. If he were patient a moment, though, he would know the answer to the question clamoring loudest in his mind—and, he was sure, in Aragorn's as well. The horses were running more or less in their direction, and when they got close enough he would be able to tell—

There was no blood on their backs. While that did not mean that their riders were unharmed, it at least showed that they had not been dragged bleeding from their mounts. It was something. It was not enough, but it was something.

Elladan looked at the Man he called brother. They did not need to speak aloud. Aragorn nodded, and Elladan turned to the horses. He waited for them to come close enough that he could call for them. Then he noticed that they were not running together. The saddled mount, golden sun glimmering on its white flanks, had turned to the West, while the barebacked one rode Eastwards. He looked at Aragorn again, but the man was as confused as he was. Why would they not have gone together? Horses were herd animals, and there should have been no reason for them to separate. Aragorn sighed and shook his head. Elladan shrugged and turned back to the steed riding towards them; he agreed that it would be too risky to go after the other horse.

A soft Elvish voice seemed to whisper through the air, and Holdwyn paused. He slowed a bit and turned his gallop towards the call. Elladan murmured soothing words as he caught the horse's nose in his hands and led the animal with his voice rather than the rough halter around its nose towards the lee in the ground where the other four horses were concealed. Aragorn took over in settling the feisty creature, and Elladan turned his gaze once more towards the city. He could feel Aragorn's attention on him even as the king spoke softly to the horse.

Elladan shook his head in silence; strain though he would, he could not see what was happening within the distant city.

…………

The city walls felt like they were closing in on him. It was not that Legolas was claustrophobic—he had spent far too much of his life within the darker, denser parts of Mirkwood before it had been cleansed for that—but there were certain enclosed spaces that got to him. Caves, for one, as Gimli was never slow to point out. Elves had a natural aversion to being cut off from the sky and stars, and the dead interiors of the earth were not their favorite places to spend time. Occasionally even the winding paths of Minas Tirith would start to choke him, but there were enough patches of green in the city to soothe him, and he was never prevented from seeking the sky.

Here, although the buildings were much shorter than those of the White City, Legolas still felt hemmed in, a feeling he usually associated with caves. The ramshackle buildings were tightly spaced and looked as if they might come tumbling down at any moment. The thin ribbon of sky over his head looked sickly from the dust that floated through the small streets.

He knew that he was pushing Gimli's and Éowyn's patience to its limits dragging them along without a word of explanation, but he could not risk it. It was not that he thought anyone would overhear his soft whisper, but he knew that there would be a discussion of his plans afterwards—and that would not be so quiet. He could already hear Gimli's bellow of incredulity, and he had a feeling that Éowyn would have a few choice words to say as well. There was not time for a long debate in any case, even if it were possible to keep the volume of it low enough to escape detection by the populace.

He suddenly stopped and ducked back around the corner of a rough wooden wall. He motioned for the other two to come closer but stay silent. Questions flared in their eyes, but he had to ignore them for now. He leaned in close and whispered just loudly enough for their less acute ears to understand him. "This is the point where it becomes difficult." Gimli's eyebrows shot up in an obvious query, but Legolas pretended not to see it. He knew he wasn't fooling the Dwarf, but they did not have time right now, and Gimli would get that message just as clearly.

Legolas peeked around the corner again. He dared not risk the life of the Lady Éowyn…but if he did not risk this now, they might as well have stayed with their captors. Shaking off his doubts, the Elf motioned them forward…

…………

The shabby buildings of wood and canvass were so close to the old wall that some of them used it as part of their construction, building three walls out from it rather than bothering to erect a fourth and make a path. Some had obviously started as tents that had eventually become permanent, with walls and additions spreading out from their humble beginnings—although everything was still humble in the outer ring of the city.

Ostad was an interesting combination of two distinct parts. There was the Old City, built mostly of stone and strong wood, erected long ago. Parts of it were run-down and crumbing, but for the most part it was reasonably well-maintained—at least when compared to the other half of the city. It had grown up around the rest of the city, starting as tents leaning against the strong wall. They were portable and rough, because there was no protection outside the wall from roving bandits or orcs. Eventually, though, the tent city had expanded, becoming so large that a wooden wall was built around it for protection. The tents had become rough buildings, but the New City had never been able to compete with its predecessor. As soon as anyone could afford it, they moved into Old City, often leaving their old homes without a backward glance. The abandoned buildings simply grew shabbier and dustier, sometimes gaining new owners, sometimes just sitting empty, although it was hard to tell which were inhabited and which were derelict, they were all so ragged and tattered.

This meant that it was also a hopeless maze, often even so for those that inhabited it, for buildings were ever changing—tents would suddenly appear, or a wall would be knocked out, or another would be put up, sometimes overnight. It also meant that with some skill and luck, an appropriately empty building could be found for hunted strangers to hide out in.

"Here," Legolas whispered quietly, moving a ragged curtain aside. "I hear no sounds nearby; this building is empty."

Gimli eyed the ramshackle walls with a distrustful eye. Legolas could tell that the Dwarf was restraining himself—barely—from saying something disparaging. Such as, 'this flimsy structure of ill-building men looks ready to tumble down at the slightest breath.' But the Elf fixed a harsh glare on his friend, and with a sigh, Gimli moved inside, axe held at the ready. He needn't have worried, though, for the room was truly empty. It was not that he did not trust his friend; he had just been in too many dangerous spots to discard his instincts about entering a strange room with his weapon at the ready. He knew Legolas was not insulted, just as he knew that despite his confidence in the desertion of the building, the Elf would at least have a hand on his white knife, if not actually have his bow out and an arrow notched.

Éowyn followed him in, with the Elf scanning the street one last time with his piercing gaze before letting the curtain fall shut behind them. The two friends inspected the room carefully, moving in concert to all the corners and edges, always keeping their eyes on each other's backs as well. They had done this so many times it was an old habit, and Éowyn stood still by the door, ready to help with her sword out should they encounter trouble, but out of their way. At last satisfied that this room, at least, was safe, Legolas beckoned the woman away from the ragged curtain.

"Wait here, mellyn nin," he whispered to them, and moved to go.

Gimli caught his arm, looking at the Elf in confusion. Had he just said "mellyn?" Gimli did not speak Sindarin, but he knew a few words, and he certainly knew how to say friend—and friends. The Dwarf gave the Elf a quizzical look, wondering what crazy thoughts were going through his mind now. The Elf-prince knew better than to explore the strange building alone! They always worked them in cautious pairs.

But Legolas's eyes darted to Éowyn, who was grimly studying the rough room, and Gimli suddenly understood. The Elf did not want the woman left alone, but he also did not want her to accompany him while he searched for unheard occupants. Gimli's eyebrows raised in a question, and Legolas smiled wryly. He would be a good Elf, and be sure to cry out or come for aid if he found anyone. And besides, he was certain he would have heard them—this visual check was just for safety's sake.

Gimli frowned, but shrugged and released his friend's arm. He had a point. He scowled then, his gaze fastening fiercely on the smooth face in front of him. Legolas had better not do anything stupid, or Gimli would have a lovely Elf-hide with which to make a new belt. Legolas laughed silently, and nodded. He would not; he had given his word. Sighing, the Dwarf shook his head and waved his friend away. The Elf bowed slightly, and then was silently gone up the flimsy, untrustworthy-looking stairs at the back of the small room.

Gimli stationed himself, feet planted and axe held tightly in his gloved hands, at the foot of the stairs. He heard Éowyn come to stand beside him. He was going to tell her she might as well sit down, then thought better of it. The woman would never listen to him; there was no point in receiving one of her fierce glares by offering the suggestion when it would not be taken. Adjusting his grasp on the axe, Gimli settled down to wait for his friend's return—and woe befall that flighty Elf if he got himself into any trouble.

…………

Although Aragorn had commanded Mallor and Rhíbron, the two Dúnedain Rangers who rode with him, to spend the remainder of the day in what sleep they could find, he did not take his own counsel. At first he had thought to do so, lying down next to the two slumbering forms, but after a short time spent tossing and turning hopelessly, he had given up and wordlessly joined Elladan in his silent vigil of the city, despite the fact that it lay beyond his sight.

Dusk's shadows had only just begun to coat the plains when even the patience of the Elf-raised King Elessar reached its end. Filled with worry for his friends, he could tarry no longer. Rising swiftly, wincing at the kinks in his knees, he had found the two Rangers awake as well. In moments the Men were prepared, but Elladan had not moved. Knowing what was coming, Aragorn sighed and turned to the Elf. He waited for Elladan to speak; it did not take long.

"Night has not yet come," the Elf pointed out calmly. "A sharp-eyed watcher will spot us easily."

"Elladan—" Aragorn began, but the son of Elrond had not yet finished.

"They are none of them defenseless," he pointed out, then smiled slightly. Here it comes…Aragorn thought as the Elf continued. "Tell me, Estel, would it not be better to wait a few moments more and enter the city undetected than risk everything coming to naught through rash action?"

Aragorn sighed. There it was, the "Estel" comment. Whenever Elladan—and for that matter, his brother as well, although to a lesser degree—thought that the man wasn't thinking things through, they reminded him more-or-less subtly that they had known him since he was an infant and that he was, to them, still quite a youngling. He should trust their greater wisdom and experience. He glared at Elladan, who fought down a smile. He was wearing a very familiar "innocent" expression that Aragorn had seen many times before—usually in front of Elrond.

However, Aragorn also knew that Elladan was right. That was another reason he had wished for him to come along. He knew that he could always trust the Elf to make sure he did not act rashly, as he occasionally found himself wishing to, now that he was king. Aragorn took his responsibilities seriously, but ruling Gondor was very different from being the Chieftain of the Dúnedain. He was still getting used to it, and found that he chaffed a little at the restrictions it carried with it, and he had to be careful that he did not swing the opposite direction in rebellion. Arwen and her brothers had been invaluable in helping him to adjust to it by keeping his bouts of impatience in check with their calm Elven sensibilities.

Sighing, Aragorn offered his friend a wry smile, which the Elf accepted with a light chuckle. Nodding to the Rangers behind him, he sat back down, ready now to wait a little longer, however little he liked doing so when people he cared for were in jeopardy.

I just want to thank however many of you hung around through that awful hiatus and apologize for it ever occurring. I would also like to throw in a Han Solo Clause and say "it's not my fault!"

Reviewer Responses:

Deana – Why thank you my dear! Now, as long as someone gives Gimli some heads to bash soon, all will be right with the world. ;)

Laiquendi – Dun dun DUN! Heh. My favorite serious of musical notes. ;) So glad the fight worked for you, especially the aftermath. And dark and sinister oh yes. Bwahahaha! But—I've updated! So you can just go fetch that nutella and drag it back out of Mount Doom right now! What sort of Poet and Scholar can sacrifice nutella? tsk!

Lil Pippin Padfoot – I did? No way! I'll go correct that right now, I'm so very sorry. I don't know how I did that! Um…however, about Faramir? Er…sorry, no can do… Don't kill me! If you kill me, I can never bring him back, and that would be a real tragedy now wouldn't it? Yep! See? Exactly!

flowerbee1 – Cue Dun dun DUN and evil laughter! Sorry it was so very, very much more than a week. :(

Susan W – You're welcome:) Now, you summon an awfully evil little cruel smile to your face first of all. Then you have to make your eyes gleam sinisterly. Sometimes it can help if you rub your hands together. Then you have your pick of the sneering "mwahahaha" the dark "bwahahaha" the cackling "nyah ha ha" or just a good chuckling "heh heh heh" style of laughter. There are other variations, of course, but those are the most common. Always good to start with the basics. Nope, no Faramir. And looks like nothing for Gimli this chapter, either. Man, I'm 0-for-2 this time, aren't I? Maybe next update! I'm really glad the fight and especially the aftermath worked for everyone though. Thanks for letting me know! However, as for cliffies…mwahahahahaha! Now now, that wasn't half bad for a beginning. Just keep practicing!

Avalon – Does Elrohir really get all the attention? Huh. I've never really noticed a split before, but that's probably just me. Strange. Oh well, glad I picked the right twin for this bit, I guess. Don't worry, Elrohir isn't gone from the story any more than Arwen is. But yes, we loves crafty Elveses we does, yes preciousss. Lots of crafty, crafty Elveses… I think it comes from hanging around too many Dwarves. They're a bad influence on innocent, sweet little Elves—axe down, Gimli! I promise you can whack something soon, okay? But hit me and next chapter I swear to Eru I'll have Legolas dangling you by your ankles! Yeah, walk away… And thank you, my dear typo-spotter. ;)

Jebb – Well, he's plenty grumpy now! And yes, there are these two little spots in the back of the Elf's tunic that are rather charred and smoky from Gimli's glower. Just don't suggest that again—Elladan and Gimli will take you up on it, and Legolas and Elrohir will kill you! Er, yes, problematical…that's a nice word for it. I was thinking pig-headed and stubbornly impossible, but that works…

East Coastie – Brilliant? Say that not again, of the pointy-eared princeling will never be able to fit his already swelled but empty head through the doorwa—GIMLI! Get off my computer right now! Sheesh. I'm beginning to agree with Legolas. Dwarves…sigh! Anyway, East Coastie, yes. If I can't give you sword swinging in Shadows I can at least give you a mini-brawl over in the dusty streets of Ostad! ;)

ForeverFaramir – Irish mutant butterflies? Shouldn't the Ninja Turtles be suing for copyright infringement right about now…? Up his sleeve—heh. That was good; and it so wasn't a knife. So yeah, I'll take more tea choking anytime! However…no Faramir. Sorry! And I only accept notes from his Lordship Elrond peredhel—and I have his kids with me and they'll spot any forgeries. So there!

Slayer3 – Happy snow dance for all! Yessss! I got to see snow, I'm happy! And now I'm in short sleeves and too hot…go figure…

Aranna – Indeed and indeed and indeed to all three, yes; you're right and so is Eowyn. Yay! That scene worked, everybody liked it! Happy ewok dance! And help is, at least, sitting and watching. Does that count? Ouch, sick before midterms? Very icky indeed. And I'm very sorry to hear that; after midterms, a break just seems that it should be mandatory. Surely it's necessary, we can all agree on that one! Thanks again.

All right, the story, for those of you that don't know, is as follows: I went home over spring break, took the laptop to work on things on the plane. I didn't actually open it up on the way there because I coincidentally happened to be sitting next to a friend from SCAD also flying my way. When I got home, I turned it on to show my brother something…and nothing happened. Well, that's not quite true. Actually, what happened was the driver whirred and lights blinked—and the screen stayed black. Somehow my LCD light blew. So, since I'd also killed Internet Explorer last semester, we decided to reload the computer and see if that would work. We hooked it up to another monitor and dragged the files onto my dad's office network so I didn't lose anything (well, not much and nothing of real import) and reloaded it. Internet Explorer now works, but the screen still didn't. So, we shipped the computer (luckily still warrenteed) back to Dell. However, by then my break was almost over, and they wouldn't send it to a different address than the one they picked it up from. Yeah, lovely. So when the finished, they sent it home. Then it had to be re-mailed to me here in Savannah. It finally showed up and I've been sorting through my files and getting everything back in order for the past couple weeks as well as trying to keep up with my new classes. Finally I got everything sorted and, voila, here we are with an update. Shadows Creeping was just updated, too. But anyway, yes, deepest apologies for the long hiatus and I want to thank everyone who hung around. It's very much appreciated and you all rock quite a lot. Once more, deepest apologies and I hope to be back with more of this soon.