Chapter 2

The bright light of a campfire could easily be seen through the trees in the dead forest, and the hideous sound of orc laughter could easily be heard on the wind.

Legolas sat tensed and still up in the boughs of one of the massive oak trees that ringed the clearing the orcs had chosen to set up their camp. Truthfully, their numbers weren't that bad. There were 18 fast asleep on the ground, and two more that sat by the fire, on watch duty. To the side of the clearing were the orc's prisoners, all tied together on the ground, and wearing cloths over their mouth and nose, just like himself, but again, that wasn't what the elf was concerned about. Sitting not too far away from the prisoners were several packs. All of which bulged in some way to indicate that they contained previsions.

Legolas smiled, and climbed down silently from the tree to begin the task of getting a hold of the packs.

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Aragorn sat quietly as to not alert the orcs that were on guard, and carefully tried to maneuver into a position where he could reach the orc dagger that had been carelessly left on the ground. He had just gotten to the point where he could touch the handle with his boot, when he got an unexpected kick form Boromir.

"Don't," Boromir hissed. "You'll alert the guards."

Calmly, Aragorn looked over at his friend. "What choice do we have? They are bound to kill us anyway, but we just might a chance of getting away from here with our lives if we at least try to save ourselves," he said, as he turned his attention back on trying to reach the dagger.

"I've got to agree with Aragorn on this one. We can take 'em," Gimli said from his spot a few feet away. Boromir winced at the volume of the dwarf's voice.

"Keep it down master dwarf, or we won't have any chance at all," Aragorn whispered, as he just managed to grab the blade with his feet and slide it towards himself. Just as he was reaching to grab the dagger with his bound hands, a tall, lithe figure dropped down from the trees right on top of one of the guards. The foul creature didn't even have a chance to scream before the figure drew a gleaming blade across the orc's throat. The figure leaped back gracefully as the body fell, and gave a mocking bow to the other stunned orc on duty. With a musical ringing laugh that effectively woke all the sleeping orcs, the figure turned tail and fled into forest, with all the enraged orcs following.

There was a moment of silence were all the prisoners all looked at each other in dumbfound shock.

"What was that?" Gimli exclaimed, as he stared off in the direction that the figure and orcs disappeared in.

"Well I certainly won't waist a priceless opportunity like this," Aragorn said, and he proceeded to saw at his bindings.

However, before he could get too far into his cutting, the figure returned, with only five of the original 20 orcs following. With unfathomable speed and agility, the figure scaled one of the trees.

"Get that damned tree rat!" One of the orcs screamed, as they ran up to the tree and proceeded to try and knock it down. Then, almost too fast for the eye to see, two arrows shot down from the tree in rapid succession, instantly killing two of the orcs. Before the remaining three orcs could even process what happened, the figure sprang from the limb, right on top of the orc furthest from the tree. The creature screamed and stumbled back from the assault. The figure simply stabbed down into the orc's nonexistent brain, before once again springing away from the corps.

The last two orcs seemed to gain some sense, and were hesitant upon approaching the lethal figure. Calmly, the figure simply drew a second long knife that matched the first, and got into a fighter's stance. With quick, sharp movements, the figure attacked the remaining two foes. It didn't even take five minutes before the both of them were down, and the figure was peacefully cleaning the gore from the long knives.

Once the blades were clean, the figure gave them a quick examination, before sheathing them once more. With a satisfied nod at the deceased orcs, the figure trotted happily over to the packs, and proceeded to rummage through them.

"Hey! Get away from there, that's privet," Gimli protested, as the figure started to look inside his pack.

Their mysterious savoir didn't even look up at the shouting, instead the figure started to pull things out of the pack and toss the nonessentials away, before sitting back triumphantly with Gimli's water skin in hand. The stranger quickly packed it way into his own small pack, before moving on to the pack next to Gimli's.

By this time, Aragorn had just managed to cut his bindings, and slowly began to approach their thieving, savior.

However, before he could get to close, the figure's head whipped around to face him. Striking, blue eyes widened in surprise, and just like that, the figure took off for the woods.

"Wait!" Aragorn called after the figure, and started to chase after him. "Wait, the orc's had set up hunting-" Before he could even finish his sentence, there was a loud clanking sound, of metal grinding against metal, quickly followed by a startled yet pained yelp.

"Traps," he finished lamely. With a sigh, he continued to jog in the direction the figure took off in, until he finally came up upon the sight of the figure sitting in the ground, desperately trying to pry apart the jaws of a cruel looking bear trap that had snapped around his left leg.

Upon seeing Aragorn, the figure scrambled back, and began to savagely claw away at the trap, which did nothing except hurt the figure's hands, causing blood to spill over the trap, making it difficult to get a secure grip.

"Peace, my friend. You are only hurting yourself," Aragorn soothed, as he held up his hands to show that he held no weapon.

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Legolas stared up at the dark haired, silver eyed man, from his vulnerable position on the ground.

He could vaguely recall the common language of man, but it had been such a long time since he had heard it, and was having a very difficult time translating it into Sindarin.

Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps; Legolas peered around the man's shoulder to see the rest of the prisoners approaching the two of them.

"(Stay away from me!)" he shouted at the approaching strangers, as he tried to back away from them. He came to an abrupt stop, once the chain reached its end, and he could retreat no farther.

Instead of heeding his words like he wished them to do, the strangers only gave him blank and confused looks as they continued to draw near, until they all stood in a line before him.

Only then did he realize that he was speaking in his native Sivian dialect rather than Westron, the common language.

The shortest of their party, an auburn haired fellow with an impressive beard, started to yell angrily at the elf, at the same time marching up to the trapped being.

Seeing this, Legolas tried to stand, in an attempt to intimidate the approaching stranger.

He may not have cared about the race of men, but that didn't mean that he sought them harm.

His attempts only served to cause him further pain, as the snare shifted to dig further into the elf's flesh.

He gave a pained gasp, before sitting back down on the parched earth in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure on his leg. At the same time, the silver eyed man pulled back his shorter companion.

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"Leave him be Gimli. He means no harm," Aragorn said, as he pulled the cursing dwarf back and away from the skittish being.

"In case you've forgotten, Aragorn, he's stolen my water skin!" He ragged, as he pointed an accusatory finger at the cloaked figure.

"Peace, my friend. He's only thirsty, and hungry I'd wager. He's made no movements against us, so we shall make no moves against him. After all, he did help us, even if it was for his own gain," he chastised, in a deceitfully calm voice, as he looked down upon the dwarf. "We are not far from refuge. You need not worry about water." With that he turned his attention back to the thieving stranger.

"Be at ease my friend. I mean only to release you from that cruel contraption," he said, while he carefully knelt down before the prone figure. Despite his gentle voice and movements, the stranger still backed away nervously from Aragorn.

"Alright, I'll give you your space. I'm not going to hurt you. Understand me?" He asked. The stranger only continued to watch him skeptically. "Perhaps I could bribe you?" He asked as turned to the side with his back to the stranger, as he fished around in his own pack, which Boromir had brought over. Pulling out his water skin, he made sure to keep his back to the stranger as he discreetly slipped a sleeping draught into it.

With a calming smile he presented the skin to the stranger and gave it a shake, to both mix in the drugs and let the stranger hear the water slosh around in its container.

"Surely, you must be thirsty. It's harmless I assure you," He said, as he pressed the container to his own lips and pretended to take a sip. "See? It's safe to drink. I just want to help you, but you won't let me approach," He continued in a soothing voice as he held out the skin for the stranger to take.

After a moment's hesitation, the stranger carefully scooted forwards and gingerly took the proffered drink from the ranger, before scooting back again. Once the stranger had assured himself that he was a safe distance away again, he threw back his head and started to chug down the water with happy moans as the cool liquid soothed his parched throat. Aragorn smiled as he sat back patiently, waiting for the drugs to take effect, so that he could approach the figure and actually offer some help.

Only after the stranger drained all the water did he start to suspect something. He looked back at Aragorn, and dropped the now empty skin out of shock, as he started to feel the effects of the drug.

"Easy, easy. It's all right. I'm just trying to help you," Aragorn soothed as he watched the stranger fighting for consciousness. "Gimli, Boromir, I will need the help of both of you to pry open this trap," he said, as he motioned them to approach, now that the stranger was hardly aware of the world around him anymore. The three of them carefully encircled the stranger, trying not to crowd him, but needing to get close in order to help. Gently, Aragorn pressed the stranger's shoulder down so that he was lying flat on his back, so that he couldn't fall when he did fall asleep.

With careful fingers, Aragorn felt around the trap for a release. Finding none he gave a slightly irritated sigh.

"There is no release, so we'll need to pry it off of him ourselves. Wrap some cloth around your hands so that you don't cut yourselves," He advised, as he proceeded to do what he just said. With that done the three of them then wedged their hands between the teeth of the trap in preparation to pull.

"Ready? On three. One...Two…Three." The three of them strained with the effort of opening the trap enough to pull the stranger's leg loose, but finally, they opened it just enough for Aragorn to let go with one hand and carefully maneuver the stranger's foot free.

"Let go carefully. We don't want anyone to lose a finger," He said as they all gingerly released the trap to snap shut on open air.

With the hard part over, Aragorn leaned over the stranger and wrapped a bandage firmly around the injured leg.

"What do we do with him now?" Boromir asked, as he looked down upon the sleeping figure.

"We take him with us, at least until he wakes up. It's too dangerous to leave him alone in a position where he can't defend himself," Aragorn declared, as he situated himself into a position where he could gently swing the stranger over his shoulder.

"You mean to take him with us to the Shire?" Boromir asked, as he stared incredulously at the silver eyed ranger.

"I have to agree with Boromir laddie. We know nothing about him. What if he tries to hurt somebody?"Gimli said. With a distrusting glare at the stranger that now rode on Aragorn's shoulder.

"He won't master dwarf. He had opportunity enough to hurt any of us, yet he held himself in check. But if it will put your mind at ease, we will remove him of his weapons before we enter the Shire. Does that suit you?" He asked, not really waiting for an answer as he lifted both his pack and the limp form up to rest securely across his shoulder. Once he was up onto his feet Aragorn set off once again in the direction of their refuge.

Gimli and Boromir looked at each other, before Boromir gave a shrug and trotted after the ranger after grabbing his own pack. With a dejected sigh, the dwarf forced himself to his own feet to follow after the two men.

TBC

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