All of my chapters have been a tad on the shorter side, haven't they? To be completely honest, I didn't give a lot of thought to chapter breaks when I wrote the first 30 pages or so of this, and so I'm sort of slicing and dicing as I post. Really I sort of lumped the whole chunk together as one chapter in my mind...but that would hardly do for you lovely readers. Fanfiction is not the place for 30 page chapters. So we'll stick to 2-pagers.
Enjoy!
The sky was glowing a light, dawn grey by the time Legolas finally stopped his heavy pacing. For hours he had worked off his fury just outside the door of their temporary room, and finally he sank, exhausted, against the thin outer wall. A skin walker! He thought to himself, incredulous. Since childhood he had been regaled with tales of the ancient race, blessed with a second, animal form. He could even now recall the mixed respect and loathing in his father's voice as Thranduil recounted stories from memory.
As a boy, Legolas had loved to hear of the skin walkers' valiant, inner struggles—how half of them had sided so many years ago with Sauron and decimated both human and elven forces; how the rest of them came together and rose up against their kin to battle alongside men and elves. Admirable, he had found it, that they put aside their friendships and even blood ties to defend the good.
And yet…his father's warning echoed in his mind, long forgotten: Theirs was a race even more ambiguous than the race of men, and they cannot be trusted. It's a good thing the world is rid of them, my son, his father had assured him. For the young princeling had been devastated to learn that the race was decimated in the last stand against Sauron.
Not decimated, Legolas corrected himself, head leaning against the outer windowsill of the room. For one still survives. A strained noise, somewhere between a groan and a growl, escaped from the back of the elf's throat as he recalled his sharp words to Aragorn when he'd been told of Blaine's identity. He'd suspected, of course, since the moment he caught a glimpse of the tiny feathers at her temples. Yet the shock of proof spurred him into superstition, and he regretted his negative response.
"Do not get involved in this, Aragorn," Legolas had hissed in his friend's ear. "Skin walkers are not worth the trouble they bring." At the memory, Legolas smacked the back of his head against the wood with a dull thud. He had even stormed out of the room, not even waiting to hear the boy, Liam's, proposition.
"…I would not ask this of you if there were any other way…" the boy's voice floated through the window's thin glass as though conjured by Legolas' self-frustration. He suspected that, in his regret, he had subconsciously tuned in with his superior elven ears. For a moment, the elf's curiosity and pride were at war. After all, it was against his princely code to eavesdrop. And yet, he was originally meant to be part of the conversation…
Eventually, his desire to hear Liam's plea won out over his proper upbringing, and he angled his head slightly, twisted to lean on one wrist, to better catch the words from inside.
"I've told you that Breag is the key to all of this—it is within her power to release Blaine. Of course, she will never do this willingly. That's where you come in."
"You want us to force a witch?" Gimli's voice was thick with doubt. "I'm afraid that's beyond our means, laddie. If Gandlaf were here, perhaps…"
"But he isn't." Aragorn's reply was sharp, and Legolas could not stifle the pang of grief that accompanied the wizard's name. Gandalf's fall in the mountains had taken its toll on all of them, and none had fully healed from his loss.
"Don't worry—you won't have to face the mage," Liam assured them hastily. Legolas could imagine the lanky boy, blue eyes wide and hands upheld in enthusiasm. This skin walker can't have it that bad, Legolas found himself thinking. She has a true and earnest friend in this Liam.
"Then how do we convince her to release Blaine?"
"All you have to do is claim that Blaine is somehow linked to you." Liam's voice was nearly overflowing with hope. "It'd be best if we could somehow put her in your debt. There are laws about debts, and it's possible that the chief would release her into your custody until the debt has been fulfilled…"
"But not likely," Aragorn spoke the words like a question, and Legolas heard a deflated sigh from Liam.
"Unfortunately. If it were a blood debt, then maybe…but unless Blaine is seriously injured, the claim will be too weak." Legolas' left hand was starting to grow numb from supporting his body weight. He didn't know how much longer he dared listen, but the silence had grown thick with thought and he couldn't move for fear of the motion drawing attention to his incriminating position. (An elf eavesdropping? He would never hear the end of it.)
"So we'll need to injure her," Gimli said. His voice was disturbingly cheerful, given the words, and Legolas could imagine him brandishing his axe.
"…possibly," Liam admitted. "Even better for her to injure you, though. If she's in your debt, there's hardly any way they can say no. And of course, once she leaves the forest her freedom will be secure." And with that, Legolas could practically hear the optimism in the room. They've all gone mad! He thought with genuine worry. For Aragorn and Gimli to seriously be considering such a farce…
Legolas stood abruptly from his crouched and slightly twisted position. He could stand no more of their talk, and embarrassment aside, he had to talk sense into his friends. With a deep breath to regain his composure—though his expression had, in true elf form, never so much as twitched—he swung the door open. All at once, Aragorn, Gimli and Liam turned to regard him carefully. Another reminder of the elf's brash exit hours before.
"Legolas," Aragorn greeted him. It was clear in the man's expression that he knew his friend would disapprove of his plan. Gimli, however, seemed to relish his discomfort, and launched straight into a summary of the conversation Legolas had just overheard.
"I'm sorry," Legolas directed to Liam before turning to his friends, "but I must advise against this."
"It is not so great a feat, Legolas," Aragorn intoned softly.
"We cannot leave the lass bound to these people for another thousand years or more!" Gimli slammed his hand on the table. It was evident that he had taken a romantic liking to the idea of rescuing Blaine and thought the whole thing rather noble. After all, Liam had gone about his request in a most earnest fashion, and even Legolas had to admit the girl's position was less than enviable. Nevertheless…
"In case you've forgotten, our purpose is of importance and utmost urgency," Legolas reminded them. His voice was soft, cool, but his eyes were stony, brow lightly furrowed. "We simply don't have the time to spare on a skin changer's problems."
"But she could prove valuable if you take her with you!" Liam piped up. "Blaine's a great scout, and really good with a knife or sword. I guarantee she would be an asset."
"And why are you so eager to bid farewell to a friend?" Legolas demanded gently. "Blaine's life can't be so awful with you as her companion?" Liam's face flushed, but he looked down into his lap.
"I can't do anything for her," he muttered. "I can't risk getting her in more trouble by open friendliness…and you wouldn't be so reluctant if you'd seen what the soothsayer and the chief do to her."
"Besides ordering her out on ridiculous missions?" Gimli scoffed in an attempt to lighten the suddenly dark mood.
"That isn't the half of it," Liam shook his head. "Breag periodically bleeds her for spells. And every other night, the chief sends her on a long mission—anything from stealing a troll's treasure to flying aimlessly around the forest—just to test her limits and keep her weak."
"They're afraid of her," Aragorn nodded in understanding. Legolas saw resolution enter his gaze, and stepped forward.
"Aragorn, please," Legolas implored. "You cannot risk the outcome of our quest—the lives of the hobbits—for one girl."
"I couldn't agree more." Everyone in the room lurched to their feet, spun toward the door. Blaine smiled at them, leaned heavily on the doorframe. "You're almost out of time."
ڿ
Blaine glared around the room, despite her hazy vision, and remained leaning in the doorway as the travelers (with the exception of Legolas) glanced guiltily toward Liam. She attempted to affect a casual stance, one hand on her hip, ankles crossed, body angled against the door. Unfortunately, Liam knew her far too well. He crossed the room in seconds and looped her arm over his shoulders despite her protests. Blaine soon found herself lowered into a chair, with the group circled around her. Even Legolas couldn't hold his frown at the sight of her stained, bedraggled clothes and unusual pallor.
"I'm fine," she huffed at Liam, but he simply scowled at her.
"What happened?" he demanded. She shot him a look and gestured to the group.
"I could ask you the same. What are you doing here?"
"Don't avoid the question, Blaine." Liam met her gaze, dulled to a light goldenrod with tiredness and pain, and at last Blaine sighed in defeat.
"Well, I meant to report, anyway," she mumbled before looking to Aragorn. "I found your hobbits." She said first with a light smile of triumph. The travelers didn't make a sound, but their excitement was palpable, evident in the way they each shifted closer to Blain, faces open and eyes alight. "They're alive, held captive by the Orcs."
"Where?" Gimli asked eagerly.
"About a day's ride from here," Blaine informed him. "En route to Isengard it sounded like." Blaine had to pause as a dry wheeze escaped her throat, and Liam gingerly began to rub her back. "I was able to listen in for a while. The head of the group—he was massive. I don't even think he was an Orc…"
"Probably an Uruk-hai," Gimli muttered.
"He said something about an elven weapon. They think the hobbits have it, and they're being taken to the white wizard." The change in atmosphere was instantaneous. The travelers seemed to freeze, faces mixed guilt and terror. Blaine scrutinized their faces. "Do you know what he might have meant?" she asked carefully. Aragorn's gaze snapped to meet hers, and he nodded slowly.
"Unfortunately, they don't have it."
"As soon as the Uruk-hai find out…" Legolas trailed off, fearfully met Aragorn's gaze.
"Oh my god, Blaine!" Liam suddenly exclaimed, holding out a hand covered in blood. Blaine glared at him—in her haste to give Aragorn her report, she'd forgotten that he was rubbing her back, and would discover her injury.
"It's nothing, Liam," she snapped pointedly, but Liam merely shoved his hand in her face.
"This is not nothing!" He declared angrily. Blaine sighed and closed her eyes with a scowl.
"The Uruk-hai caught my scent," she spat peevishly. "I don't know how he figured out who I was, but he had his damn Orc firing squad loose a volley at me." Liam sighed roughly.
"Well, at least let me bind it for you," he tutted and turned into the room to search for bandages to use. As he passed, however, Aragorn laid a hand on his shoulder.
"She's injured," he whispered. Liam scowled.
"Yes, though she would die before admitting it. Honestly, of all the stubborn—"
"But she's injured, lad," Gimli picked up the cue. "On our behalf!" Realization dawned on Liam's face, and he cast an awe-struck glance back to where Blaine was dozing in her chair.
"Oh…" he breathed, met Aragorn's gaze. "A debt."
ڿ
When Blaine woke from her unintended slumber, she instantly leapt to her feet in panic, only to wince at the flash of pain in her shoulder. She paused, hand flying to the injury, to survey her disorienting surroundings. She was still in the travelers' quarters, having slept on the floor of their entry room; no doubt it was Liam who had gathered spare linen and layered it to create the nest at her feet. Pest, Blaine thought fondly as her fingers traced the bandages over her left shoulder—another example of the boy's handiwork.
"Sleep well?" a tired voice sounded from behind her. Blaine turned to regard Liam, who had evidently fallen asleep in a chair with his head on the table. Blaine clicked her tongue at him.
"Better than I should have," Blaine smiled. "It feels like I slept for days."
"You didn't," Liam laughed. "But you probably should—you're still exhausted. I can see it all over your face." Blaine shook her head. She always forgot that Liam was considered a trained healer in the village.
"I don't deserve you, Liam."
"Sure you do!" He stood, stretched, and smiled at her. "You pay me back with sarcasm and empty threats." Blaine laughed, but the sound was cut off by pain. She glared toward her shoulder, and Liam caught the motion.
"Of all the times to get shot at," Blaine complained in explanation. Liam shook his head in sympathy.
"You're lucky, you know," he said. "The arrow just grazed you, so there wasn't anything to pull out. That should heal up nicely in a day or two. As long as you don't fly on it," he warned. Blaine smiled sheepishly.
"Even if I wanted to, you know the chief will never let me stay grounded for that long. Knowing him, I'll be up and out by midday." Liam gave her an odd look for a moment. Blaine shook her head, confused.
"Blaine, it is midday." It took a moment for his words to register, and when they did Blaine's yellow eyes stretched wide with horror.
"No…no, no…" she stuttered, moving toward the door. "I was supposed to report back! The chief is not going to be happy…" she made to leave, then froze and looked down at her clothes. They were the same ones from her journey. In fact, she had to admit that she probably looked terrible—clothes ragged, stained with mud and blood, hair and feathers sticking out all over the place. "Is it disrespectful not to change?" she asked herself, half turned back inside, then back to the door. "No…maybe he'd believe that I just got back? Oh, but the bandage!" Finally she just gave up and, with an angry huff and a grudging wave to Liam, she slammed the door behind her, roughly tearing off her bandage as she went. It wouldn't do for the chief to suspect she'd stopped to treat her injuries before seeing him.
"That was quite an exit," Gimli muttered humorously to Liam as he emerged from the next room. Liam chuckled, but his mirth was mingled with worry.
"She's like that a lot—really bird-brained," he joked, voice strained.
"Will she be punished?" Aragorn stepped out behind Gimli, read the worry in Liam's face. He nodded.
"It won't be that bad, since she's injured…" Liam trailed off, stared forlornly at the door, and Aragorn slapped a hand down on his shoulder.
"Don't worry. We have our debt, now. We'll get her out." Liam smiled up at him.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. "She's always wanted to see the world, you know."
Still sitting in the next room, deep in thought, Legolas wrestled with his desires. On the one hand, he stood by his argument: skin walkers were untrustworthy, and that aside, they could not spare time or energy to rescue this one. And yet…after she'd helped them, at risk to herself, and hearing of her treatment…at the very least, he understood Aragorn's wish to help her.
With an irritated sigh, the elf stood and walked into the next room.
"So when is this debt to be claimed?" he asked begrudgingly.
Alright-chapter 3 down, who knows how many to go. As you can see, this is getting a bit...primal for middle earth. But really, who's to say there weren't tree people with rituals and semi-barbaric tendencies? They would hardly have been involved in the events of the trilogy...until now! Haha.
Best,
Downs