Again, many thanks to every one of you. Many hugs and much love!

Chapter Nine

At last, Legolas came lightly back down the steps. "Come," he said softly, "it is deserted, and I would have us above the streets, should someone chance to enter."

The others followed him silently, although Gimli winced with every step on the rickety stairs, breathing lightly as if fearing he would bring the entire structure tumbling down. Éowyn's step, too, was cautious, although Legolas ran as confidently up them as if they were made of good, strong stone. But then, he was an Elf, and even snow did not crumble under his feet.

When they at last stepped off the stairs with a sigh of relief, they found that the upper floor of the shabby building they were in much resembled the first. Dirt and dust coated the place freely, and the boards were obviously never designed to go together. They fit poorly and their grain ran in random directions about the room. The cloths hanging over the windows were ragged and much-patched, half-decayed with moth-bites and stains covering them. The meager room had been stripped of most of its furnishings—or perhaps it had few to begin with—for there was only one shabby chair in the corner and a chest with a broken latch. There was a pile of dusty cloth that looked as if it were once used as a bed or nest at the far side of the room. The door that led to the other, smaller upper room dangled on one broken hinge, and swung gently back and forth, scraping the floor. The side room resembled the larger one, save that the chair that sat in it was broken and the pile of bedding was instead one thin sheet. There was a fly-encrusted blob in the far corner, and it was impossible to tell if it was once a small biscuit or the leg of a bird. The dust on the floor was altogether undisturbed from the Elf's footfalls, and although the Dwarf and woman stirred it up, it was so thick that soon even their footsteps were mostly hidden by the coating of dirt.

Legolas looked embarrassed, as if ashamed at leading the lady Éowyn to such a place. He watched her anxiously, but she gave no sign of distaste at her poor surroundings—until she nudged the blankets with her booted foot and was rewarded by the sudden flutter of millions of tiny wings as an insect colony took flight. A shieldmaiden of Rohan, she let out no maidenly scream, but just grimaced solemnly and changed her mind about the suitability of the cloth for a seat.

She turned to the other two, a little chagrined, but they both studious ignored her. They also did their best to appear perfectly content to stand—indeed, the word "sit" seemed foreign to their minds—while they waited for the lady to use the chair. Éowyn rolled her eyes at them, but sat daintily in the chair—noting with some amusement that someone (otherwise known as Legolas) had gone to the trouble of wiping it free of what dirt he could in anticipation of its use. Fighting a smile, she looked up at her two friends, who were doing their best to look innocent of all machinations.

Now that she was seated, Gimli could safely take his own repose on the dusty floor without fear of her attempting to give him the chair. The dirt did not bother him; he had crawled through worse muck exploring caves. He would clean his corslet and armor later; they were still decorated with enough dried blood from the earlier battle that some dust would do no harm.

Legolas stood calmly, waiting for his friends to settle themselves. Éowyn could see that the Elf knew full-well their questions for him, and while he was not eager to go through the gauntlet of explanations, he would do as they wished.

But first, it appeared, he had yet another surprise for them. "I believe Aragorn will be in the city shortly after nightfall."

Éowyn and Gimli gaped at the Elf, mouths open in shock.

"King Aragorn?" the woman asked slowly.

"And Lord Elladan with him," Legolas replied calmly. "Or perhaps Lord Elrohir; it was quite a distance, and they look much alike, yet I would wager it was he I saw."

Gimli sputtered. "And you have said nothing of this, why?" he asked, incredulous.

Legolas looked back innocently. "They will not be here until nightfall," he said with a shrug. Did Éowyn imagine the mischievous twinkle in the Elf's eye? He could not really be deliberately baiting the Dwarf, could he?

"Ah, should we then thank you for informing us ere the sun set?" Gimli asked sarcastically. "Or did the thought simply flee from your flighty Elvish mind?" The Dwarf snorted. "There are no trees in this shabby, ill-built city, but I am sure that you could find plenty of things to distract your errant, so-called thoughts with." He scowled, but there seemed to be a smile tugging at his mouth—nay, she was imaging it.

Legolas's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Friend Gimli," he said innocuously, "what ever would you have done with the knowledge? For I know that Dwarves are not given to pondering, or even to thinking."

Gimli scowled darkly. "And yet we can keep our minds on one matter, while Elves are ever flitting from one thing to the next, accomplishing little."

Legolas shook his head mournfully. "It is a sad thing that Dwarves cannot think of more than one simple task at a time, but I assure you, Gimli, it does not mean that I think any less of you. I know that you cannot help what you are born."

The Dwarf glared and began angrily, "and I know that you cannot help being a brainless, ninny Elvish princeling, which is all that spares your head from my axe at your foolish words, for I know that Elves cannot understand things of true wisdom—"

Legolas looked surprised. "Dwarves know of wisdom? I have never heard of such a thing! Imagine! A Dwarf knowing that wisdom exists in the world!" He shook his head in wonderment. "But come," he said before Gimli could frame a coherent reply, "I expect that there are many things that you desire to know relating to our journey here, and what must follow. I am eager to talk at last."

Éowyn felt the same, although it eased her heart to know that no matter what situation they found themselves in, her friends' humor would never falter. It made it easier to smile behind her shield.

………

Secure in the knowledge that he and his companions were as silent as mortally possible—and one of them quite a bit more so—the gray-cloaked king sidled along the wall. The night was already thick and deep; as soon as blackness had fallen they had set off for the city's walls, but it had been a slow journey; attempting, as they were, to avoid all detection.

Elladan abruptly signaled for his three trails to stop. Aragorn's hand stole to the hilt of Andúril, but when the Elf turned and indicated the wall, the Ranger relaxed. It was not danger; they had merely arrived at their destination. The Elf pointed to a half-rotten board at the bottom of the rough wooden wall. How his eyes had spied it in the dark and from the distance at which he had searched for it, Aragorn would never know. He was merely thankful that the Elf was with him this night.

Communicating his intentions with hand-signals perfected over decades of working with the Dúnedain during the last Age, the Elf indicated that he would go over the wall to remove the boards from the inside, allowing the three men to squeeze through. Aragorn nodded, and Elladan launched himself into the air. He lightly caught the rough wooden boards and scrambled up them, graceful and noiseless in the weak moonlight. He glanced at the men a moment to indicate all was well, then vanished over the wall.

No noise showed that he had landed, but a moment later there was a slight scratching as the boards were pried up. One gone, laid carefully aside; Aragorn could faintly make out the Elf's hands working the next one through the gap in the wall. He looked around, wary of discovery at this tenuous stage where their small company was divided. Suddenly, there was a faint hiss from the other side of the wall, and Elladan vanished from sight.

Aragorn's hand curled tightly around Andúril's hilt, loosening the sword in its sheath. He felt more than heard Mallor and Rhìmbron copying his actions behind him. Unable to guess what was going on from the silence, Aragorn stared hard at the dark—empty—gap in the wall…

………

Elladan was listening carefully for any approaching sounds. He knew that his sharp ears would hear anyone long before they came within sight of him, but this part of the city, at least, was silent. Then he stiffened and looked up. A curse slipped from his lips, and he dove away from the wall, pulling his sword silently from his sheath as he rolled. Moving on soundless feet, the Elf flitted like a faint shadow invisible to mortal eyes in the thick darkness.

He paused, barely breathing, at the corner of an alley. His sharp ears listened closely as he tracked his quarry without sight. The man's footfalls were loud to the Elf, and he restrained himself patiently to wait for him to draw near. As the guard turned the corner, he brushed so close that Elladan could have reached out and touched him. Secure in the knowledge that the city was safe and his patrol pointless for anything larger than a stray child, he did not even look up as he passed the Elf, but walked in distant complacency.

Then he looked at the wall. Elladan tensed, and the guard did likewise. He had seen the gap in the wall. Curious, he walked towards it. The Elf moved silently behind him, swiftly clamping a hand over the man's mouth before he knew he was in danger, and moved his sword. The man jerked sharply in Elladan's grasp. The Elf dropped the body to the ground and wiped the blood from his blade. Eyeing the body with distaste, he returned to his work, prying the boards up angrily.

Aragorn shot through as soon as the third one was gone, scraping his cloak—fortunately it was good Lórien weave, and did not catch on the splinter—and his right hand, which was not so fortunate, and soon had bleeding knuckles. He glanced around anxiously, hands on Andúril's hilt, looking for danger. His gaze caught the corpse where the Elf had left it, then met Elladan's. The Elf shrugged, not wanting to spend time explaining right now. Waving to the man to keep watch, he pulled out a fourth thin board to allow Mallor and Rhìmbron to crawl through without as much difficulty as their anxious king had suffered.

They quickly replaced the boards as Elladan carefully eyed the city. Now that they were in, the simple part of their plan was over. Dangerous it had been, and risky, yes, but simple in execution. Sneak into the city without being seen. That was all. But now, they had to somehow find Legolas, Éowyn, and Gimli, get at least the lady out and home safe, and then find and rescue Faramir and his men—all without being taken captive themselves. And, of course, they had absolutely no idea how they were going to find any of them—especially with how carefully Legolas and Gimli were bound to have Éowyn hidden away.

The fact that not a single one of them knew this maze of a city would not be helpful. Elladan was not used to feeling out of his depth, but he suddenly had a feeling that was vaguely similar to that. He sighed, and turned to look at Aragorn. The man seemed to be thinking along much the same lines, and his face was grim. Summoning up a smile, Elladan clasped his foster-brother's shoulder.

"Come, Estel," he said with as much good humor as he could manage, "we ought to hide ourselves away for the night. Assuredly we will have better luck seeking for our friends in the morning."

Aragorn brightened considerably. "You are right, mellon nin. Thank you." He turned to the Rangers to organize their silent journey, but Elladan was not listening. He was glad that he had raised Aragorn's confidence, but what of his own? The Elf shook his head; he would think on it in the morning. There was no good in dwelling on dark thoughts in the depth of night. Things would look fairer with the rising of the sun.

………

Gimli groaned and tried to burrow further into his bedroll. Something was lightly shaking his arm, and he had no desire to wake and see what it was. Something about that thought struck the veteran warrior as odd, and his half-sleeping mind slowly turned to puzzle it out. Why should not wishing to wake when he was tired be strange to him? Ah yes, the Dwarf remembered slowly, they were in a dangerous situation again. But he was not worried, because it was Legolas that stood over him, not an enemy; even in his sleep-addled state the Dwarf could recognize his friend by his proximity. There was nothing strange in Legolas being awake (he sometimes thought that Elves were really nothing more than insomniacs in denial), but as Gimli detected no worry from his friend, he saw no reason why he could not continue sleeping.

A reason presented itself in a moment, however, as the Dwarf felt a light touch on his chest. Before he could react, the Elf had deftly twitched his blankets off. Gimli felt rather proud of himself as he sat up quickly; he had actually felt the edge of Legolas's soft boot with his fingertips as he had grabbed for his friend's ankle in retaliation. Someday, he would catch hold of the flighty princeling, and then they would see who was more unhappy about the morning ritual of waking the Dwarf from slumber.

Legolas muffled his tinkling laugh with a silken sleeve; he did not desire to wake Éowyn yet—only Gimli. While when danger threatened the Dwarf could rise from full slumber to instant battle-alertness, when there was no threat hanging over his head Gimli could take a very long time to rouse to suitable alertness. And, of course, it would never do for his friend to wake naturally when Legolas was there to shake him from his slumbers. He had almost waited too long; the Dwarf was already half-awake. Indeed, he was alert enough already that today was the closest Gimli had ever gotten to catching a hold of his nimble friend in the morning. Legolas grinned as the Dwarf heaved himself to his feet, carefully restraining his mutterings so as not to disturb the woman who slumbered peacefully nearby.

Turning aside innocently, Legolas smoothly rolled up the blankets in his hands and innocently handed them to Gimli. He ignored the glare the Dwarf sent his direction as he moved off to prepare a morning repast—which was, he was sure, doomed to be woefully inadequate in Gimli's mind. The Dwarf had spent far too much time around hobbits, Legolas decided somewhat wistfully. He missed the dear little creatures. Perhaps, if nothing dire looked like it was going to come up in the near future, he and Gimli could make at least a brief journey to the Shire. They had, after all, never been there, and the Elf was sure that there were now at least a few little hobbit-lads and lasses running around (a Gamgee or three, at the minimum) who would be delighted to meet two of the beings they would doubtless be told numerous—and exaggerated—tales of by their parents and uncles. Or fifth-cousins twice-removed. Or third-uncles on their mother's side. Or seventh something-else's on their fathers. However the little ones would end up being related to their sire's friends. Legolas had learned in his time with the Fellowship that every hobbit in the Shire was somehow related to all the others, usually in numerous ways.

Yes, it would be good to see the little hobbits again and learn how they were faring. Aragorn, while unable to leave Gondor for that length of time so early in his reign, would be delighted with all the news he and Gimli would bring back about their friends. It was now determined; they would journey to Eriador at the earliest possible opportunity. All that remained was to find such a time, and to tell Gimli—but unlike explorations of forests, Legolas thought that his Dwarven friend would require no persuasion or threats to convince him that a visit to Hobbiton was in order.

Now, though, they had other things to deal with. The Elf's sharp gaze flashed to the slumbering woman. Her rest had been fitful, although only mildly so, and Legolas was worried about her. He could find no sign of injury upon her person—the bruise on her face had all but faded completely—but his suspicions led him to be perhaps overly cautious. He knew not how to help the woman with her current situation, should it be what he guessed, and so he could do nothing but fret uselessly. Legolas did not like being either ignorant or helpless, and when he was both at the same time it sat ill with the prince.

He sighed and turned away. He would put it as far from his thoughts as he could, and do his best not to dwell on it. For now, he would simply see that she had a proper breakfast in her for the busy day this was bound to turn into. While the Elf regretted that he must interrupt the rest that had at last settled over her a few short hours ago, he knew it was necessary. Aragorn and Elladan must have entered the city sometime in the night, and they needed to figure out a way of getting in touch with them before they did something rash or foolish—somehow, wherever they were hiding…

Shaking his head grimly, the Elf summoned a welcoming expression on to his fair face and moved forward to gently stir the Lady Éowyn from her slumbers…

………

The four hooded figures were hardly noticeable in the ragged crowd that filled the streets of the outer city. With light had come chaos, and all manner of people had poured out of their rough homes to talk, trade, beguile, barter, shout, seduce, threaten, or otherwise fill the hours of the day spent scraping out a meager existence—or relieving others of their own scrapings.

The four travelers, in their plain cloaks and well-worn clothes, lightly stained with dirt and now a thin sheet of dust, were hardly spared more than a glance as they made their quiet way through the small and twisting streets. They paced themselves so as to not stand out, either: walking purposefully enough to not be idly stopped, yet taking care not to hurry conspicuously. Their low-pulled hoods were unsuspicious for the thick dust stirred up by many feet on unpaved roads led most to wrap their faces with scarves or pull hoods and hats down to shield their eyes.

They had been walking since dawn's faintest hint, and noon was now fading. All was going well—save that they had yet to find a clue of their companions—until Rhìmbron started coughing. The man had been unlucky enough to pass a doorway as a wrinkled woman roughly shook the ragged "door" of cloth to clean it. The effort did little to help improve the appearance of the shabby rag, but it created quite a cloud to fill the Ranger's lungs. His three companions stopped breathing as well. But their luck held, or the Valar were watching them, for no ill came of it beyond a hoarse, dry throat. Breathing a sigh of relief, they moved on—

And someone jostled Elladan.

The Elf nimbly kept his feet, but those around him went still nonetheless. The sudden stillness spread through the street and slowly became filled with whispers and muttering. Aragorn's eyes were wide as he stared as his foster-brother. Elladan's momentary confusion swiftly twisted into a mirror of the man's shock as he realized what had happened: his hood had fallen back.

The slim face, with its moonlight-brushed skin under the sun beneath dark silken hair parted by sharp, pointed ears, was alien to the people of Ostad. Alien, but instantly recognizable for what it was: the face of an Elf.

Elladan quickly flipped his hood back up, but the damage had been done. The humming commotion would soon reach the ears of a guard, and they would know that no Elf had entered the city—not through the gate, at any rate. Taking advantage of the surprise that was still gripping the people around them, the four interlopers shoved through the unresisting crowd with haste. Beneath their cloaks, each one had a hand on his sword hilt.

Reviewer Responses:

AM – having twin brothers so much older than you has to have been annoying…

Deana – as always, I promise to do my best! And of course, thank you. :)

Susan W – Chuckle—and snicker—away, m'dear. But me, torture people? Gasp! Never! …well okay, maybe a leeeeetle bit… ;) Poor Gimli indeed. He still hasn't gotten any axe-bashing in. Legolas better be careful with that baiting or he might end up helping the Dwarf relieve his frustrations whether he wants to or not. As for Faramir…heh heh heh, once again. Nope! I'm not telling you—or poor resolute Éowyn—a thing! Yes, yes, I am indeed evil…thank you, thank you… And I really will update as fast as I can. And I'm sorry I can't do daily, that'd be awesome I quite agree!

Jebb – Don't I know it! I love my laptop but sometimes…jeez…! A patient Dwarf, an Elvish plan, one set of pointy ears, plus one very trigger-happy axe equals…bashed ears for Legolas! Hee. Thanks!

Star-Stallion – No trouble yet, unless you count Gimli's plotted revenge…which ought to be trouble enough for any one Elf to deal with… Hey, I don't always foreshadow cliff-hangers, you know. Just nine times out of ten. ;) Anyway thanks, glad you liked it! And again, so sorry I'm updating slowly.

Slayer3 – Eep! Wow. Hey, how does one do a "woo hoo" anyway? Is that some form of dance? ;P Glad you liked the trailer, I'm eager to see it…although there's a certain Part Three coming soon that must take precedence for me as far as excitement-allocation goes…lol

Laiquendi – Thanks for the welcome! And yes, if you ever want to see what it looks like when a Dwarf explodes, just tell Legolas to be secretive and infuriating—more than he usually is—for a few days. Tsk, yes, gotta watch out for that impulsive young Aragorn, never know what trouble the boy will get into next. lol. Do we have another dun dun DUN? Perhaps. ;) YAY! The nutella lives! Ha, take that Sauron! Chocolate is the true ultimate power in the universe! Oops, mixing realities again. Oh well, I have nutella! Whoo hoo! Ouch, hot! Hot hot hot! Eeep!

Avalon – Do I…? Oh yeah. I do. Heh, that's what happens when you aren't a beach person; you forget it's only twenty minutes away. But the river's nice! We had random fireworks last night for no reason that anyone could figure out. Strange but awesome. QUACK! ;) Yes, the chapter: Legoals certainly is keeping that in mind, isn't he? Poor out-of-his-depth Elf…especially once Gimli gets through with the infuriating little princeling! Heh. And cities, at least, don't have bugs. Unless you're in Savannah, in which case there are more bugs than I've seen anywhere other than the Chesapeake Bay at night in July. Ick. Oh, Aragorn wants to thank you for the hug and tell you to ignore Arwen and her rendition of her father's patented Death Glare. Yay for squeeglomps of doom! Consider it returned!

Aranna – Hope you're feeling better and midterms went well! And now help is lost with a mob on their heels…lol. Some rescue! Perhaps they'd like it back in their—er, wrong universe again, sorry! blushes! Yes, the horses…heh heh heh. And I'm glad you liked the city's visuals, I love things like that! Hope your imagination concocted a great one! And I wonder if Gimli gets hazard pay for Éowyn-sitting…? (I know Elladan does!) Surely it wouldn't be as bad as Aragorn-sitting but still, she is a rather stubborn little shieldmaiden…lol ;)Lil

Pippin Padfoot – No crying, no crying! Well…at least not yet. I am the Mistress of Evil, so if there are tears down the way, well, I can't really complain, can I? But I'm updating! No killy, no killy! Erk. Grounded, huh? Ouchness. I hope you don't get in any trouble for sneaking stories! And was that representing perhaps a hint? Nah, couldn't be…I'll just ignore it…

East Coastie – Don't fall off that seat yet! And don't worry, it won't be ending for quite a while. I'm not sure how long, but there's rather a bit to cover yet, never fear! It seems I either write one-shots or twenty-plus chapter pieces. Go figure. Ramble away, and good luck on that long hiatus:)

Again, people, thank you thank you thank you for sticking with the story and my deepest and most sincere apologies. I swear, I feel guilty enough I ought to be in an angst-piece right now… I hope there's at least enough story to make it sort of worth waiting. Anyway, I'm sorry and keep on enjoying! And reviewing, you really make my day. So many thanks again! Oh, yes—nutella, anyone? I'm afraid it's a little bit melty, but still good… Until our next meeting:)