Aragorn feared for the hobbit's safety. The Nazgûl would return, and having seen first-hand what this new creature was capable of...the way it had tossed that wraith as if it were a weightless rag doll. The way it had marched between them without hesitation. Suffice to say, he didn't feel safe either. Such strength, it was as if one of the many statues surrounding the tower had come alive! That's why he had a sword pointed at the warrior's back. "What in Arda are you?" He demanded menacingly, almost at a whisper.
"STRIDER!" Sam screamed suddenly at him. Frodo was badly hurt. It was clear to Chief that this man, the child's apparent protector, would want to help him. This was the leverage he needed to get out of this standoff peacefully.
"My name does not matter..." He began to explain. "But I am human, just like you. I mean no harm, I only meant to help the children. I suggest you move the blade away and let me stand."
Aragorn was stunned. This thing claimed to be human! Why should he trust him? It was interesting. Now that the being had spoken in that calm and gritty voice, it no longer seemed possible that he was a servant of darkness. Was this just a trick however? As another cry of pain escaped the young hobbit, his humanity got the better of him. If this warrior were a servant of Sauron, he would have known the difference between a hobbit and a human. Or, was this just another trick? Aragorn winced in defeat, he had to help Frodo.
"Anything at all, to give me reason why I should not trust you. And I will kill you." He told him. Chief did not respond at first. Not a flinch, nothing. The calmness of the warrior told Aragorn that it did not fear him at all. Something that didn't bode well for him and the others. The more he assessed the Spartan's power, the more he began to realise he stood no chance.
John understood the hostility. And knew the fear Spartan's could inspire. He could see that same look in the man's eyes, a look he'd seen in so many eyes during his time. It was not something he wanted to. He needed to inspire trust right now. This individual was only protecting his own. "I understand" Chief replied. "The ones behind you are in good hands." He said, acknowledging the hobbits with a nod.
And with that, Aragorn seemed to be satisfied.
He slowly moved the blade away. Chief rose as he did, matching the speed of the strangers' sword arm. Fully stood, John turned to face Aragorn. And the ranger's jaw clenched as he stared into the faceless death-mask of the warrior before him. A towering beast of a man. Broad shouldered, and rising a full head above the already very tall ranger. And his remarkable armour...more like the hide of some scaly ocean predator than something forged by a blacksmith. So thick it would surely be immune to any mortal weapon. Yet at the same time, it was oddly familiar to him.
Had it not been for the warrior's size, he might have believed this being was an elf. For as remarkable as the suit was, it wasn't a million leagues away from high elf battle dress in appearance. Yet of all his attributes, it was the golden visor that Strider truly marvelled at. He'd never seen anything like it. Like the most polished gold, or the most flawless of stained glass. He felt awestruck. The giant was intimidating, yes, but Aragorn had to admit, he was more in wonder of him than he was fearful. Something about this being's nature emboldened doughtiness, not terror in his heart.
Finally sheathing his sword, he rushed over to Frodo. His instincts were telling him there was no danger in the being behind him. Chief also wanted to aid the wounded boy, but needed to gain this man's trust first. Trust was not something earned easily, but the fact that this warrior had sheathed his weapon was a good sign.
"What should I call you?" Chief asked, as the stranger examined the child's injuries. Aragorn didn't answer, he was examining the dagger that the Witch King had been holding. As he began to turn it over in examination, his face went deathly pale.
"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade." He said bitterly, just as the weapon began to disintegrate in his hands. It was a detail that Chef didn't fail to notice. "Strange!" the only blades he'd ever known behave like that were the crystal daggers unique to Kig-Yar pirates. Frodo began to cry out all the louder, his condition growing progressively worse. Chief knew the adrenaline circulating the kid's system was wearing off. With these pain numbing chemicals gone, he would start to feel the true agony of the wound.
"What's the lad's name?" He asked the stranger, who still hadn't given his. Aragorn ignored him once again. Dealing with the child he obviously had higher priorities then answering his questions.
"His name is Frodo." Aragorn finally replied. "But he is no child, he is of a race called hobbits. He is an adult, just like the others...you may call me Strider." Chief knew it wasn't his real name. Then again, how often did he give his own?
"Hobbits? Interesting. You can call me Master Chief." Aragorn gave him a quizzical look, but he brushed the strangeness of the answer off. He hadn't given 'Chief' his real name after all.
Sam was concerned with Frodo, but Merry and Pippin couldn't bring their eyes away from the colossal being standing before them. "What are you?" asked Merry. "Where did you come from?" as did Pippin. Chief was working on something to say, or on whether to say anything at all in reply. It was then that Cortana piped up.
"Their friend is in a bad way and needs help ASAP. No point answering Chief. I doubt they'd understand the answers." She was right. Frodo came first.
"Such things can wait. We need to get Frodo away from this place. Somewhere safe-" "-Why Should we trust you?!" Sam bellowed, turning on the Chief. Red faced and desperate with worry. He wanted to protect his friend.
This one would be hard to earn the trust of. John knew how to resolve that quickly, but he wasn't keen. He was sure it would stop any further questions, and prove where his loyalties lay. Just this once. He shocked everyone with his next move, even Cortana. John did something that he just never did. He took his helmet off.
Frodo was in too much pain to notice, but everyone else, Sam, Merry, Pip, even Aragorn stared at him with surprise. He was indeed human! With piercing blue eyes, a strong brow line, and unearthly pale skin. As if his flesh hadn't seen the light of the sun for many, many years. He commanded such majesty, and there was something of an angelic quality about him. Was he a Miar, one of the Valar? They all recalled the falling star. But the appearance of the two were coincidence, right?
This reaction was one of the many reasons why John never took his helmet off. His point made, he quickly replaced his headgear, the gentle hiss of his armour seal re-forming reassuring him greatly. But the silence continued. The only thing breaking it being the cool night air as it breathed leisurely above.
Aragorn was the first to respond. "Master Chief is right, danger has not yet flown from here, we need to get Frodo away from here." He had no choice but to trust him. He needed every help he could get at this moment, and questions could wait. "This wound goes beyond my skill to heal, I cannot stop the blades' poison." He announced, worrying the hobbits further. And the Chief to.
The blade was poisoned? That was a major complication. Chief didn't know how to stop it either, but they also needed to stop the bleeding. This was straightforward, but he had a dilemma. Bio foam would suffice, but Frodo wasn't human. He didn't know how the chemicals would react with his biology. He wouldn't risk it, he needed an alternative. A low tech solution would suffice.
"I know how to seal the wound. Give me a moment." He sprant down to where their camp had been. He then took one of the Hobbits blankets. He could tell they were of suitable material, strong and watertight. He rushed back up to treat Frodo. Hoping that the cloth was clean enough, he started to rip a section off. Using strong but dexterous hands, quickly improvising a makeshift compress and external bandages. Aragorn watched the Spartan work with much interest.
In under a minute, his hands trained by hundreds of hours of practice, John had completely covered up the wound at the abdomen with an ideal quantity of well fitted dressing. "Well, that was pretty fast!" Pippin remarked, feeling a little more relieved by this act of charity. It was clear in his mind that this warrior was on their side.
Aragorn went to pick him up, but Chief stopped him. Putting a hand on his shoulder. Aragorn flinched at his touch. How could he not? "I can carry him, if you would let me." The warrior announced. Aragorn still wasn't sure if he trusted him. But with his size and his build, and being able to wear that armour of his, the man would certainly have an easier job of it.
"Thank you. Take care with him! I swore by my life I would see him safe." It was a supreme risk to place such trust in someone he knew not. The hobbits weren't too keen about the idea either, but bit their tongues, too scared to challenge him. As a Spartan, John's duty was to humanity. These, hobbits, were human in his eyes. They needed his help, and he would not leave them.
"I will do what I can for Frodo. And I will get you all to safety." He replied. Everyone was in awe of his selflessness, and grateful for his aid. With that, the group climbed down the steps of Amon Sul, and went off through the undergrowth. The hobbits had themselves a powerful new ally...
A little while later, Cortana was speaking privately with Chief. And it was obvious that she was struggling with this strange new environment. "So, that's what they call those creatures here. Wraiths...wraiths, hobbits, and if I heard Strider correctly, elves will be next! What will it be after that? Dwarfs? Wizards? Demons and Dark Lords?" She said blustering, filled with anger about the whole horrid situation. It was totally absurd!
Chief shared the sentiment. There were three little men scurrying after him, and that was the least of it. Something was really off about this world, he could feel it. He'd fought, killed and driven off shadow-men with swords. Swords of all things! And tools with no obvious qualities that set them apart from the ones of history passed. He'd immediately assumed there were something else to them. Perhaps mono-edged weapons at least? Never underestimate an adversary! Even with Strider he'd taken no chances. But he wouldn't wonder about it right now. Getting these people to safety, who he could still only describe as refugees, was his primary concern.
Strider was by Chief's side, leading the way. John had not met many people like this man. He could tell that from the off. He was strong, brave and selfless. He had great dignity and calm, and was more stoic than some ODST's he had encountered. But more than that, he commanded an aura of great wisdom about him. Something noble.
"I don't understand you Chief!" He spoke suddenly, breaking the silence. "Very few men wish to remain by someone's side after encountering the Nazgûl. How is it that you stand so unflinchingly into the face of doom, with no other reasons than those of charity?"
Perhaps he was Valar! Aragorn knew something was happening here that he didn't understand. Was this truly who had emerged from the casket that had fallen from above? He dared to even think about it. For now he was content with this stranger's aid. He needed to get the hobbits, and their package, to Rivendell. But why was the Chief helping them? For Aragorn, the reasons for his selflessness were unfathomable. But from Chief's perspective, it was very straightforward. "It is my duty to protect humanity. Whatever the cost. I have been trained to do this for nearly all my life."
Aragorn had never heard such things from anyone. Who on Arda was this man? He was fascinating! "Where do you come from? Who taught you to be the man you are?" He asked.
John was unsure about that question. "I am...not from around here." He began to say, but Cortana quickly interrupted him once more. "Chief it might be a good idea to start thinking of some white lies to tell them. Don't bombard them with answers that they will not understand!" Chief took the advice, performing an early conversational U-Turn.
"I represent an elite fighting force within my people, a land of...United Nations. We call ourselves Spartans. We are given the best training and equipment that humanity can provide." This puzzled Strider a little. Least of all that there were human kingdoms he hadn't heard of before.
"So, you are a leader of one of these unified realms?"
"No." Chief replied. "Master Chief is not a political title. Its a military one. To show that I am authorised to lead soldiers into battle." Aragorn frowned. This answer only added to his confusions.
"And a powerful soldier you are." Which was understating it to be sure. "But tell me. I can see easily how your armour and your might is so remarkable. But what of weapons? You are armed with no more than a large knife and a few stones!" Cortana couldn't help but giggle at his greenness.
"I imagine that my knife is a lot stronger than anything you're used to Strider. It's made from steel, and another metal called titanium. It's stronger and lighter than anything made from iron alone." Strider had never heard of titanium. Was this what the warrior called mithril? Or some other undiscovered metal? He said he came from an elite band of warriors. Were there more of these Spartans? Were they like him?
"Also" Chief continued, "The 'stones' you see are not crude projectiles. They are filled with an...unstable chemical mix, that detonates at the pull of a lever. When they detonate they send out shards of razor sharp metal, hundreds of such fragments at great speed across a wide area. They are thrown into the centre of enemy formations, sending them sprawling for cover. For enemies who don't know about the weapons power, the results can be very...gory."
Aragorn stared curiously at the small metal orbs around Chief's waist. Could something so small really cause so much destruction? The principle behind the weapon seemed sound, but that was as far as his knowledge went.
"Are there more people like you? Other Spartans?" The smallest of the hobbits asked John innocently, and very nervously for that matter. "There used to be." He said quietly. "Most of them are dead...what is your name?" He asked, moving off a difficult topic.
"I'm Pippin" He answered, then pushed the tallest of the hobbits. "This is my best friend, Merry!" Who then nodded at Chief, then quickly averted his gaze. "The last two are Samwise Gamgee..."
"...hello Mr Chief!" Sam greeted, his formality making the others smile. "And my poor friend on your shoulders is called-" "-Frodo" Chief finished.
The ranger nodded solemnly. "Yes. Frodo Baggins. And we need to get him to the elves as soon as possible."
There were a few tears in the eyes of Sam, who seemed to be hurt the most at the suffering of his friend. "But its six days from Rivendell on foot Strider. Poor Frodo will never make it!"
Frodo suddenly came round a little, shouting out deliriously. "Ga-gandalf!"
"Come on Frodo! Don't give in! Fight it!" Aragorn said encouragingly.
"GANDALF!" He wailed again. Chief was sure the delirious hobbit couldn't hear anyone. He was too far gone.
"Strider, he's going to die in the next few hours if we can't help him right now. The poison, is there anything we can do to stop its spread?"
Cortana was listening to all of this. Powerless to help, her heart was heavy. "If only I had access to a UNSC medical." Her voice was low and drawn, she was feeling badly for him. Empathy! Pure empathy.
Aragorn knew too that Frodo didn't have long. "Chief! Can you let Frodo down? Rest him down somewhere in this clearing, somewhere safe." Chief did as he was told. Strider had an aura of leadership about him, he could sense it. Decades of experience was telling Chief that he could trust the man's judgement. He placed Frodo down in a pile of ferns, and sat next to him.
Frodo was now in the safest place possible. Under the protection of a Spartan. As he guarded the clearing, Chief began to analyse his surroundings. There were strange statues all around them, three of them. They weren't based on humans, and they reminded Chief a little of brutes. "Look Mr Frodo! Its Bilbo's trolls!" Sam said eagerly as he recognised the statues. Trying to lift his friend's spirits.
"Trolls?!" Cortana groaned. "Oh I give up!"
Frodo started to groan again. His voice was strained and sounded almost unearthly. His stifled cries were discomforting, and seemed to be affecting Sam the most out of all of them. "Mr Frodo? Strider he's going cold!" The ranger came rushing over, opening Frodo's eyes and placing a hand on his forehead. His eyes were white and milky, and the deep brown irises that had once been were gone completely. This was bad!
"The poison is taking hold. It won't be long until he passes into the netherworld, becoming a wraith like them." This was a shocking revelation. Chief was stunned, could a simple toxin cause someone to turn into one of those...things? This was like nothing he'd ever heard of. Was Strider bullshitting them? Some kind of sick joke? The most disturbing thing was though, that there had been no hint of lie in his eyes when he had said it.
A high pitched shriek shot through the quiet night air. Long and piercing. A sound everyone had heard before. Accompanied by a sensation of unnatural dread they were learning to hate. The Nazgûl were back. "That call can't have been more than two kilometres away." Cortana updated, "They're searching for us!" The others also knew how close they were.
"Strider. How do we stop the poison?" There was urgency in Chief's voice. It would take a while, but their position would eventually be discovered. They needed to act right now. Aragorn had one idea. He didn't know how to stop the poison completely. But perhaps...
"Sam. Quick! Do you know about the Athelas plant?" Sam didn't know.
"Athelas?" He replied, obviously confused. Aragorn rolled his eyes. Athelas was its elvish name!
"Kingsfoil Sam." Sam nodded, "Aye Strider, it's a weed!"
"Good!" The ranger thought to himself. He wasn't completely clueless. "It may help to slow the spread of the poison, come with me." The two took off into the woods to find some, leaving Chief alone with his thoughts, and the remaining hobbits.
The clearing was silent.
As Merry and Pippin began to stare at him, Chief wasn't sure who the most uncomfortable man in the clearing was. Frodo, critically wounded, fighting a losing battle against a horrible poison. The other two, terrified about Spartans and Wraiths. Or himself. Because of all things, he had almost always removed himself from social situations.