Chapter Two - New Threat

On the outskirts of the township of Wickerwood, a middling populated spot far south in Gondor, Aragorn and company waited for the last of the scouts to return.

The scouts were bringing news of the goings on in this region of his Kingdom. "His" kingdom for the simple fact that Gondor formed part of The Reunited Kingdom that was founded after the War of the Ring. Aragorn, the heir of Isildur, had taken his rightful place as King of the West after this war, and was now known as King Elessar to his people.

But many just knew him as Strider, his name of old, or as Aragorn. He was not a character that stood on too much formality, being raised in Rivendell unawares of his true bloodline. Humble in nature, Aragorn only learned of his true bloodline and the responsibility that went with that after his formulative teenage years. When he grew old enough, his true identity as heir of Isildur was revealed to him by his guardian Elrond. Even then, Aragorn had refused to seek out the unoccupied thrown in Minas Tirith, preferring to travel the land, often alone, learning of other kingdoms and fighting many battles under the leaderships of those kings who ruled there.

A humble man was Aragorn, yet fair-minded and wise as well; he was a man who held his kingship seemingly lightly, yet in actual fact with deadly seriousness. And indeed Gondor prospered under his balanced approach, something he wanted to remain that way. Just because he now had a Thrown and a wife, that of Arwen the Lorien elleth, did not mean he did not still stride out personally to inspect and protect his own land. It was something he preferred to do from time to time, in order to clear his mind of the stuffy business of King that often came his way these days. There was much of the rapscallion left in Aragorn, much of the Strider still in him yet, though since becoming King, he had learned to be more responsible and did do quite okay for himself in that area.

Now he waited for his good friend Legolas to return from his scouting exercise and bring news, hopefully, that all was peaceful in the land. Such news would finish their month long survey of this area.

Most of the other scouts had brought back nothing but positive news. The settlements they had encountered were civilised, and even better they contained none of the Wild Men, the ones who had mischievously fought for Sauron. This was a relief. Either these men had all been driven far beyond the boundaries of Gondor, or they had decided to take on new ways. Most probably the former was true. In any case, only true settlements had been uncovered so far, and Aragorn could breath a lot easier now that he knew the truth of this situation.

With another sigh, because Legolas was half a day late already, Aragorn at last spied Arod approaching along the main road to Wickerwood.

Aragorn's band of men had set up a camp on the road outside of the township rather than staying in the township proper. It was simply easier to do things this way. Aragorn would hate to have to wait on pomp and ceremony if any in the town recognised their King. He was probably being neurotic on that count, since with long practise, he was a master at blending and appearing invisible in crowded streets or bars. Who would pay any attention to the ill-kept man with the intense stare and dirty travelling cloak? Who would approach him to speak when his grey eyes turned on any nearby with such penetrating depth? Probably none. But he would really hate it if a marshal, captain or even a town soldier recognised him and alerted all the folk. That would just slow him down and disrupt everything. Slipping in and out of places quietly, unnoticed, was his style. This was strange behaviour perhaps for a King, but not so for the Strider of old.

As Legolas came nearer, Aragorn thought his eyes were deceiving him at first. There appeared to be another rider on the back of his mount. Aragorn squinted further and took a few strides forward, shading his face with his hand. Who did Legolas know in this god-forsaken wilderness to be offering a ride to? Then he let out a low whistle, and his weathered face crinkled into a knowing smile.

Arod's whinnies could be heard as the horse approached and slowed to a walk. A rather attractive, if not nervous, female sat behind Legolas, and at Aragorn's knowing look and wink, Legolas rolled his eyes and determined himself not to fall prey to too many of his friend's familiar jibes.

"Well met, my friend," called Aragorn, as Legolas slid down to the ground. They clasped hands in a greeting, then Aragorn turned his attention to Annabelle, still sitting waiting for a hand down.

"And who might you be?" asked Aragorn in a magnanimous way, reaching up to aid her off, just a split second before Legolas could do the same.

"Thank you, sir," responded Annabelle, with genuine warmth, her feet now touching the firm ground. She found herself looking to Legolas for a cue. She had no idea really to whom she was speaking, but at least he got her Tongue right.

"Let me introduce you," said Legolas, taking her meaning. "This is…this is my friend Aragorn of Gondor." He decided not to mention the word king, even though he doubted she would understand anyway. Then turning to Aragorn he announced hesitantly, "And this here is Miss Aniel…of…of…" It wasn't often that Legolas stumbled over the names of places, but when they were in an unfamiliar tongue, it could happen.

"Goldacres," finished Annabelle, a little breathlessly. She didn't know what she had expected to find when they arrived to meet the men, and was a little surprised that it all seemed so normal and friendly.

"Goldacres," echoed Aragorn as he scratched his head. "Another one to place on our new map then Legolas. I told you this would not be a waste of time, at least not a complete one anyway."

"About that…" began the elf, trying to turn his friend away from the girl.

"Ah, not so fast mellon." Aragorn cast a wolfish grin towards Annabelle. "Who is she then? It seems you can't be left alone for a moment without a new female turning up by your side. Really Legolas, in the city that is okay, but out here…." He trailed off, and his serious tone collapsed into laughter. Aragorn punched Legolas lightly in his arm then, and roared with laughter. "You know what they say don't you? For every man there is but a handful of damsels, but for every "Prince" there is a damsel around every corner and at least six in every town. Never were truer words spoken when it comes to you." Whilst Aragorn appreciated his own wit, Legolas cringed.

"Don't call me that," he said quickly and quietly, glancing at Annabelle.

"Call you what? Oh, prince you mean?" Aragorn accentuated the word prince loudly, causing Legolas to groan.

"You are doing this deliberately to taunt me, something you have grown very good at over the years," Legolas conceded. "Now come, don't we have more important things to discuss. The other scouts….?"

"Not so fast, smooth one. Come on, out with it. I want the full story. I haven't had anything to laugh about in days. The reporting can wait a bit longer." Legolas merely cast a baleful eye to the heavens and began recounting the story to his overly curious friend.

Meanwhile, to this animated exchange in elvish, Annabelle had watched with wide eyes, noticing the discomfiture of the lordly elf and the jesting of the man. Very interesting, she reflected. This was all getting more interesting by the second. She wondered why Legolas groaned so, and why such a pained expression was forming on his face, also to be expressed in every inch of his body language. What kind of torture was he being put through by Aragorn? She hoped very much it had nothing to do with her.

"Unbelievable," said Aragorn, at the conclusion of an abbreviated version of the tale. "Well at least it wasn't orcs either of you encountered, and I say that for my sake. The last thing this land needs is stray bands of orcs, or whole infestations of them, still haunting and a-looting. Trolls I can at least live with, for now," he growled.

Placing an arm over Legolas' shoulders, Aragorn began walking him back to the camp proper. Annabelle stood there speechless as they began to leave. Then they stopped and Aragorn called over his shoulder to her.

"Are you coming, Lady? You are most welcome in my camp for the night, or other arrangements will be made."

"Thank you," she stammered, somewhat relieved.

As Arod, Legolas' ever-obedient horse, and her followed the two into the camp, she wondered if that was it now, she was relegated to the company of animals.

The camp was very much one of males. In fact, Annabelle could not see another female anywhere in sight. At least when she had been travelling with her original party, there were other women. She shrugged internally to herself and knew it would just be for the one night. Though surely someone could take her to Wickerwood today. They were close enough to see smoke curling from the settlement only a few leagues away; she really did think that she had been forgotten. And she did not relish standing up for herself right now in a way that would draw anyone's attention. Rather, she just wanted to take in where she was and what was going on. It was new and curious to her. She no longer felt afraid in the company she was keeping. If nothing else, she was feeling afraid to leave it again, for Legolas had become familiar and travelling home again without him seemed somehow hollow and dreadful. Though it would have to be done. But maybe tomorrow, and that was fine by her.

She followed the two to their end of the camp, which was a busy affair of men, horses, fires, bags and implements. Keeping out of their way, she sat where she could watch them, surreptitiously, with their backs to her. Aragorn had looked around once to see where she was and if she was safe, then had turned back to the busy conversation he and Legolas shared. But she wasn't really watching Aragorn as much as she was the blonde with him. Oh Aragorn was a great curiosity to her, but it was Legolas that drew her gaze and consideration.

How oddly he had acted when they arrived, and how different was his behaviour. Whilst with her he had been all kindness and gallantry, almost, if that was what it was. But around Aragorn he lost those aspects and was more normal, more vulnerable actually. More human, if you could call an elf that. It was merely an aspect of him that she hadn't been able to guess earlier. Just intriguing, nothing more than that she told herself. Elves weren't perfect, untouchable beings after all, they were just people, people with differences, but still underneath, just folk like everyone else. That thought settled her a bit more than she cared to analyse.

Aragorn and Legolas meanwhile swapped reports of what they had found on their wanderings, and surmised what it meant.

Since Legolas was the last to return to the camp, Aragorn filled him in on what the other scouts and found. Most of it was normal. There was the report of the occasional abandoned township that had been destroyed by orcs during the War, the people either all murdered or moved on to a newer location. The land was still in tact though, woods had not been felled or burned, rivers had not been poisoned, and life still graced every inch of it, a good sign that evil was no longer abroad, at least not the old evil that they knew so well.

There had been one worrying report though, just the one. It was more of a mystery really, and this report is where the two now turned their attention, lowering their voices instinctively, an instinct learned during the War and that lingered yet.

"Attackers you say?" asked the elf in shock, when Aragorn began to tell him of the strange occurrence. "Was anyone hurt or lost?"

"That is the thing," said Aragorn, "they were not, but it was a close thing. Arrows were fired at Arndurad, just missing him by bare inches, and when he tried to find who had fired those arrows, they were gone. The confusing thing is that there were no traces of anyone to be found at all. No tracks."

The two exchanged significant glances. After both of them had spent years tracking lowlife creatures, they knew how unusual it was for an assailant to leave behind no clues, none at all. All of the men partaking on the survey were chosen for their tracking skills, obviously. Legolas' brows furrowed as he considered.

"Did Arndurad retrieve the arrows?" he asked at last.

"Yes, I have them." Aragorn reached down and took a carefully wrapped package from a bag and placed it before Legolas. He warned, "You will not like this, I fear. It brings much disquiet to me to show you."

Hesitating only a moment, Legolas reached forward and unfolded the flap of material to peer at the offending implements. A quick intake of breath was all he could give at that moment. Then he suddenly jerked and looked forcefully at Aragorn.

"Surely this is some kind of jest," he hissed. "This," he indicated the arrows disgustedly, "this simply cannot be!"

Aragorn bowed his head in bitter disappointment.

"I was afraid that would be your reaction. I could not be sure myself. I knew it must be confirmed by an elven…" and he trailed of heavily, sparing a compassionate glance at his friend. "This will mean trouble for all of us." But he could not bring himself to approach or voice his fears, so onerous was it, so bitter this finding. The two merely looked at each other as if they could somehow make it go away again, as though their combined boding could extinguish the evidence and remove the truth of what it appeared to show. Hopelessly they looked at each other, and then away again.

"We must hasten straight to Rivendell," said Legolas softly. "This must be confirmed by Elrond. He must know. And my home in Mirkwood, and Lorien too…" A ghastly look twisted his fine features as he tried to imagine passing this news on, in lands so fair. How could it be tolerated? In a mood, Legolas suddenly stood up. He wished to be alone, he needed it.

Aragorn nodded his assent to him. Going to Rivendell was tantamount. He would journey there too. They would leave in the morning, riding fast and hard.

As Legolas turned on his heal to leave, Aragorn fancied he noticed him shaking, probably with rage or shock. Legolas went to seek out the nearest stand of trees, where he felt most at home with nature, walking shakily away, eyes glazed over. Aragorn could do nothing but watch him go; no comfort could he offer. Dejectedly, he rewrapped the arrows once more and stowed them away. Then he lost himself in his own thoughts, thinking of Arwen also, and that gave him great comfort.

From where Annabelle sat resting, she noticed movement in the camp. Where all had been fairly sedate and quiet, she noticed men rushing to and fro. There was chatter amongst them, and worried glances too, and a strange atmosphere settled upon the campsite. At length, Aragorn wandered over to the lost maiden. "Aniel," he said, "how goes you?"

"Why do you call me that? Aniel?" she asked. "You are not an elf." She was merely curious about him.

"Do you not like the name?" he pondered. "An elven name is a very special thing to have. I was raised amongst the elves, in Rivendell. It is an honour if they bestow on you a term like this, it means that they consider you a friend."

"Oh." She was quiet for a moment. "In that case, I would feel like I was insulting Legolas if you did not use that name. I have been growing used to it and quite like it." She looked around the camp. "Speaking of Legolas, where has he got to? Is everything all right?" She gestured to the disquiet in the camp, which was now beginning to settle a bit though the atmosphere was still thick.

"It depends what you mean by 'all right'" said Aragorn honestly. At her look he continued, "No, it is nothing that you have done. We simply have a sudden change of plans that will take effect immediately in the morning. We ride to Rivendell, north of here, and we are in great haste. I think we must find a guide for you to return you to your home."

"Yes, thank you."

Annabelle couldn't quite keep the disappointment out of her voice. These people seemed to lead such exciting lives, and she felt like she was looking in through a window to witness an event that was probably commonplace for them, but which stirred her in ways that she did not yet recognise. North. The idea of travelling north sounded irresistible to her, if only to forestall her return to a life of doing and thinking not much at all.

Being perceptive as Aragorn was, he noticed the little hesitations around Annabelle, though did not know how to read them. He said, "We had better take a trip, you and I, over yonder to Wickerwood, and I will personally make sure you are safe and taken care of. There will not be time in the morning." She nodded. "Are you all set to go?" he asked.

"Erm, I suppose I am," she responded. She would have liked to at least say goodbye to the one who had courageously saved her and had taken care of her for the past four days, but still she could see Legolas nowhere in sight. She swallowed. "Thank you for your kindness," she said as she got up after Aragorn to follow him to the horses. He merely waved dismissively.

"Think naught of it," he said airily.

Hoisting her onto the back of his steed behind him, he offered by way of explanation, "Legolas is….indisposed…at the moment, or I am sure he would take you himself. I hope you do not mind Lady. I will pass him a message for you if you would like." Without waiting for a reply, he nudged his horse forward and they took the road to Wickerwood at a steady pace.

When they reached the township, Annabelle was amazed at how busy it was, at how wide the main thoroughfare was, and at the amount of stalls at the market they passed. They were selling fruit and meat and bread, but also there were stalls selling jewellery and crafts and other things that were pure luxury to a girl like her. The dust of her travels seemed suddenly forgotten as she gazed around her in appreciation. (In truth, Wickerwood was a small, dusty, provincial town, but to Annabelle, who came from a farm near a hamlet, it was like opening the page to a wider world.)

Aragorn haltered his horse Roheryn outside a public drinking tavern, and after tying him to a post, both he and Annabelle entered.

Several men in the bar looked at him, paying no heed at all to Annabelle. Aragorn had the sort of aura that people noticed (when he wasn't sneaking around being Strider the Ranger). He could command attention and had a quiet feeling of power around him. Of course no one recognised him, and so he began a conversation with the bar keeper asking about trade to a place called Goldacres.

Scratching his dishevelled head, he said to Annabelle, "There are no wagons going in that direction for several weeks. I suppose that is not unusual. I will try to do a bit better for you, but I cannot promise you anything. While I ask around here, why don't you wait for me outside in the fresh air? But don't," he added sternly, "get into any trouble, okay?"

"Yes, lovely idea. And I will stay out of trouble." She turned and walked back out into the sunshine, looking both ways down the street for something to watch while she waited there. A few men walked past and commented on her to each other, but she didn't catch what they said. She kept her eyes downcast until they had passed. Then she noticed some children playing, and with a smile forming on her lips, she began watching them, until their mother eventually caught up with them and moved them along with her down the street. So she stood and looked at nothing in particular, wondering what was taking that Aragorn so long.

Suddenly, she sensed a presence beside her, and with a start, glanced up quickly to see someone standing in front of her, cast in shadow by the sun placed directly behind him. It was a very tall, lithe person, covered from head to toe in a travel cloak that was drawn about his body. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed a black and red trim around the cloak, a rather ornate piece of work. She craned her head to look at his face.

When she did, she gasped. Before her stood an elf. Another one! The shock of that alone momentarily knocked the breath out of her. She put her hand up to shade her face to cover what she was feeling, peering at him from the shade it offered. "May I help you?" she stammered.

"I could not help notice you enter that bar a moment before with Aragorn Elessar," he said, using the King's name.

"The Ranger?" she asked. "Well, yes I did."

At her words, his face twisted into a slight smile and his eyes held amusement, dancing with something she could not read. His lips almost curled into something unpleasant. He spoke.

"I have a message I would like you to give him when he emerges, if you could be so kind." The elf's voice was smooth and quiet, like a pond that has not been stirred for days. It was a little chilly to hear him speak.

"Oh, no," said Annabelle, nervous of getting the message right. "He is right in there, why don't you just…" She went to gesture through the doorway, but the elf reached out and grabbed her forearm to stop her. He was strong, very strong, and at his tight grasp, she felt herself involuntarily shudder. He remained holding onto her, looking straight into her eyes. As she stood frozen, his hand grasped even harder, if that was possible, and Annabelle felt the need to protest.

"Sir, would you please…"

"Listen to me!" the elf said quickly, moving closer to her. He cut off all attempts at protest, and still he did not release her arm. "The message will not be difficult. It is just this!" His eyes went completely cold and he bent down and kissed her full on the mouth, yanking her to him with his hold on her and not letting her move or struggle whilst he casually mauled her.

The kiss was unpleasant and certainly uncalled for. She tried to pull apart several times but could not remove herself from between him and the tavern wall. When he did pull back again, his eyes merely stared right through her, and his lips were moist from where he had touched her.

"Humans," he said, "Gwaur! Fuia!" (Dirty, disgusting) Then with a flounce of his cloak, he had turned and retreated at surprising speed. She watched his back as he left, stunned, observing his long, black hair that did not look particularly elven and clean. Annabelle was left standing there, shaken as though she had just been assaulted with a weapon and physically injured.

It was at that moment that Aragorn emerged from the dark doorway, saying when he saw her, "No luck, but we can still….Aniel? What is wrong?"

Trembling uncontrollably, she put her face in her hands and sobbed once or twice. She felt used. It was an awful feeling. Aragorn, the town, her need to get home, all of this was forgotten as she withdrew into herself, physically and mentally, then looked at Aragorn wide-eyed, completely unable to speak.

"Child, what is it?" he asked. "It looks like you have just seen a wraith!"

"I…I…think I did. My God, why?"

Aragorn came and stood directly in front of her, where the elf had stood just moments before. He placed a hand firmly on each of her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes to try to guess what had happened. Instead of feeling extreme cold as she had with the elf, she felt warmth radiate from his concern, and some small amount of strength seeped into her from his touch.

"Someone hurt me," she whispered to him. "It was a…. another…it was like…" Then the light came into her eyes as she remembered what it had said to her. "He knew you, he said your name!"

Aragorn quickly raised his head from just inches above her, and swept the street both ways with his gaze, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. "Who, child? Who knew me?"

"The elven. The awful elf!"

"What?" exclaimed Aragorn softly, clearly perplexed. "Quickly now. Come inside for a bit, out of this sun, and gather yourself." He went to grab her arm to guide her but she snatched it away quickly.

"He hurt my arm, don't you believe me?" Annabelle pulled up her sleeve, and sure enough, a large bruise was beginning to form there, grey and mottled.

Aragorn's eyes narrowed when he saw it. It was fresh and brutal looking. "Come inside just the same," he said with more concern now. "I believe you Aniel. But you must calm down a bit to tell me what happened. All of it."

She swallowed and let him lead her into the dark tavern to a table away from prying eyes. He went to the bar and got her a stiff drink and brought it back again.

"Have a few sips, it will give you some strength and fire."

Doing as he asked she sipped, then winced. But it did as he had hoped and calmed her down a bit.

"Now tell me about this elven," he implored.

Gulping, fidgeting with a napkin, she said, "He just appeared before me. I must have been daydreaming, and he was there suddenly. He was friendly at first. No, actually, he was kind of….neutral. He said your name, Aragorn Elessar is what he said," she paused for a moment, considering. "Isn't that the name of the King? Elessar! Why, if I am not mistaken, yes it is. King of the West, Lord of the Dunedain….."she trailed off, looking at Aragorn, imploring him to say something that would make it all make sense.

He glanced down at the table, then admitted self-consciously, "I am King Elessar, Lord of the West."

A hand quickly went to the girl's mouth, her hand. A few heavy breaths make her chest heave as she took in what he was saying. "Oh Lord," she mumbled, reaching to her drink and taking a swig. "What have I got myself into?" she said to no one in particular.

"It is okay." Once again Aragorn reached over to her shoulder and squeezed. "Really."

"I'm not so sure. The elven…it got worse."

"Tell me." His eyes urged her for the rest.

"He said he had a message I was to give you. I tried to tell him you were inside the tavern, then he grabbed my arm, so tight, and I could not free it. Then his manner changed immediately, and he did not hide his vileness." She gingerly rubbed her bruised arm. She did not want to finish the story, or recall any of it. It was incredibly undignified, if nothing else.

"Tell me the message."

"Ugh…"

"It is okay."

She sighed. "He kissed me." She winced. "In a not very nice way!"

"And that was the message?"

"Yes."

"All of it?"

"Yes," she said nodding. "Then he was away again and disappeared quickly down the street." She paused and remembered. "He was wearing a travel cloak that had a foreign trim on it, an elvish design I suppose. It caught my attention."

"What did it look like, and what colours….?"

"It was writing I think, but I know not for sure. It was black and red."

"Valar," swore the king softly. He shook his head. "This gets worse by the minute."

"What does it mean?" Annabelle felt she had a right to know, after all, she had been the victim in this.

"Ahh. It means we are going to need you, I think. You were right when you said you were caught up in this. You are involved now, I am sorry."

Annabelle didn't have an immediate answer to this. They sat there in silence each lost in their own thoughts.

Annabelle's mind was churning, so she finished her drink off, glad for the fire it gave to her cold, lurching stomach.

At great length, Aragorn said, almost unwilling to break the silence, "Would you be willing to travel with us to Rivendell? I can only ask you and hope that you can understand how important it is you come. This is of great importance," he stressed. "We will reward you for your time if you could do this."

This was a surprise. "Travel with you and Legolas, you mean?"

"Yes. Will you?"

"Oh. My gosh. But why?"

"Because of your encounter. Because…" he tried to find words for the growing fear he was experiencing. "The one you have seen, no other has seen. It is a threat. The message was certainly a threat, one that has arrived a bolt out of the blue. Do you see, you have information and people are going to need to talk to you, to look into your mind. Please."

"Aragorn, you do not have to beg. I will do it. I will ride with you and…Legolas, wherever you need me to. Of course, that is provided I get home safely in the end," she added smiling, not really realising what she was agreeing to.

"Thank you." His shoulders moved with slight relief. "Let's get moving now. I do not feel safe in this tavern."

"Yes, my King."

Aragorn stopped midway out of his seat, and it was funny to see his reaction. Turning just a slight shade of pink, he implored, "Please, Aniel, you do not need to refer to my…title. I would prefer it if you did not. Aragorn would suffice. Could you do that?"

"If that is what you would prefer, then yes…Aragorn."

"Thank you," he said gravely. He led her out of the tavern, and they self-consciously mounted Roheryn, knowing they were probably being watched. Then they rode for their camp outside of Wickerwood, vastly glad to leave the town behind and all who were in it.

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