Hello, people of Earth.
You have successfully reached Chapter 11, welcome to your demise.
...I'm just kidding :)
I feel like I apologize waaaay too much on here, but I must this time because it just feels like a thousand years since I've been on here. It's what we call "Hell Week" for our school musical and I've been working like crazy, which has ultimately prevented me from writing and even reading FanFiction. I was quite upset about that, actually.
Anyway, enjoy chapter 11! There may be some spelling or grammatical errors (I kinda just cranked this out the past two days) so just ignore them if you can.
And I need to give this lil chappie credit to Jo, who was the one that told me that it would be fantastically torturous if I split our beloved elves up and wrote from two different perspectives. So thank you, darling Joanna, for this small bump in the road for the few members left of the Fellowship.
Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR, I just love it too much to be healthy.
Stella felt like a tossed sack of potatoes.
Her bones ached, her head throbbed, and her tongue tasted like sandpaper. She wouldn't even try to open her eyes, for that would make the throbbing in her skull even worse. Her body felt like one giant bruise, and it didn't help that she was being shaken repeatedly.
"Miss Stella?" a voice whispered to her. Stella furrowed her brow at the voice. It sounded familiar, but her groggy brain couldn't seem to identify who it was. "Miss Stella? Please wake up Miss Stella!"
"Pippin?" the elleth muttered, straining her sore muscles to rub her eyes with her hands. But she soon found she wasn't able to, for her hands were bound tightly with frayed rope that scratched against her bony wrists.
Pippin watched his elven friend helplessly. "They've taken us, Miss Stella. The orcs that attacked us in the forest...they bound our hands and took us."
Stella's eyes widened and she craned her neck to see orcs swarmed around them, snarling at each other. The blonde hobbit looked fearfully at the elleth.
"They've been talking about eating us, Miss Stella," he said, his voice shaking.
"No one is going to eat you, Pippin," she reassured, giving him a small smile. The action hurt her cheeks and created more throbbing in her temples, but the small hobbit needed a comforting gesture. She was positive he hadn't ever experienced anything like this in the Shire before.
"They will if Merry doesn't wake up!" he whispered back.
"Merry's here too?" Stella asked, siting up quickly. She could barely see in the dark night, but it was quite easy to make out a tuft of blonde hair lying next to Pippin.
"Yes. One of the orcs said something about needing us for Saruman. They didn't say anything about you though," the hobbit said, eyes shifting to the unconscious Merry as he stirred.
Stella narrowed her eyes at the gruesome orcs, wriggling her hands that were tied in the knots. "They need food somehow, I suppose."
Pippin's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but Merry muttered next to him and the frightened hobbit attended to his friend. The orcs continued to bustle around, snarling and growling at each other. They were obviously in a very heated argument. Stella's ears twitched, desperately trying to listen in, but to no avail. Her senses hadn't quite gotten back to her yet from the blow she received earlier.
However, it didn't take much to hear the sudden squeals of surprise and the thuds of horses hooves.
Stella stopped squirming in her bonds and stared, expression frantic. Men on horses tore through the orcs, taking the creatures down with their swords. The orcs snarled and yelped as they went down, their weapons scattering on the grassy ground. With a skillful somersault on the ground and a few rubs against a fallen axe that was now beside her, Stella's painful bonds were broken.
Much to her dismay, Stella's bow and quiver were gone, scattered in the leaves of the forest she was knocked unconscious in. The elleth felt slightly empty without her usual weapons, but she pulled her sword from her sheath and crawled past the hooves of horses to assist her hobbit friends anyway. Pippin nearly got crushed by a horse while she was maneuvering across the grass to help Merry, but he rolled out of the way quickly. The two hobbits, now free of their own bonds, scrambled to their feet, taking off into the woods. Stella stumbled after them, an orc nearly taking off her head with his axe in the process.
The three escaped prisoners scurried over brush, leaves, and twigs, desperate to get away from their former kidnappers. Merry fell over his feet a few times, but Stella gripped his arm and tugged him along. The other blonde hobbit did not slow, but with good reason. They were being followed.
"We cannot run forever, Pippin," she said breathlessly, after Merry tripped for the fifth time in the past thirty minutes. Stella's hair clung to her sweaty neck as she stared at Pippin. He dropped his shoulders in defeat, coming to a stop in front of them.
"Yes, I know," he said, breathing hard and staring at a tree. Then, it was as if an imaginary light bulb went off in his head. He pointed to the trunk covered in dark, mossy bark in front of them. "Climb!"
"What?" Merry exclaimed. Stella however, hooked her hands and feet on the bark, maneuvering her way up the trunk without uttering a word. Pippin followed suit with the reluctant Merry after him. But the last hobbit didn't get very far, for his foot was snatched in the air and he let out a cry.
Stella glanced down to see Merry torn from the bark and thrown to the ground by a gruesome goblin-like creature that she immediately recognized as one of the orcs that was fighting with the others. The slimy creature wrestled Merry on the floor of the forest, baring sharp fangs in it's victim's face.
"Merry!" Pippin exclaimed, shifting his feet to start back down to the ground. Stella did as well, but the two didn't get as far as they would have liked. Half way down the trunk, the pair discovered a slight problem: the tree was moving.
Stella yelped, gripping the bark with her fingers as the branches creaked under her. Merry was tossed up from the grass and into the long fingers of the tree. The elleth and the other hobbit held onto the bark of the trunk for dear life, but they too were swept up into the spindly finger-like branches. The orc was not as lucky as they were, however. It's dying squeal as it was squashed from the tree creature rang in Stella's ears and her eyes widened. She stared at the tree and it blinked back at her.
"Little orcs!" a large voice spat out. Pippin, who was squished up next to her, stopped squirming. The tree's eyes narrowed and it was then that they realized it was the one talking.
"Merry," Pippin whimpered, his eyes bulging from it's sockets. "Merry, the tree's talking..."
The talking tree stopped all it's movement and glared at the two hobbits and the elf. "Tree? I am no tree, I am an Ent, you little orcs!"
"He's a Treeherder, Pip!" Merry exclaimed, staring up at the Ent as if the talking tree possessed the world's greatest secrets. "A shepard of the forest."
"Don't encourage it, Merry," Pippin said, wriggling around and jabbing his elbow into Stella's sharp hipbone.
"Don't move, Pippin," Stella hissed under her breath.
"What, ah, what side are you on?" Pippin inquired, ceasing his squirming, much to Stella's relief. The Ent looked offended.
"Side? I am not on any side, little orc," the tree cried, his grip on them tightening. Stella's ribs felt as though they would snap and she sucked in a sharp breath.
"Orcs? We're not orcs!" Merry said. "We're hobbits! And Miss Stella is an elf!"
"The burn, they tear, they cut, and they destroy. Curse them. Curse the orcs!" the Ent replied, clearly not listening to their protests.
"We are not orcs!" Stella shouted, interrupting the tree's rant. It abruptly halted it's speech and blinked at her. The elleth gritted her teeth at her compressed ribs. "These are halflings and I am an elf! We don't tear or cut or destroy...we were trying to escape!"
The Ent was silent for a few seconds, as if considering her words, before replying. "The White Wizard will know. I will let him decide."
"The White Wizard?" Pippin asked from beside her, wrinkling his brow. Then a sudden realization must have dawned on him, for his eyes widened. "Saruman?"
The Ent did not respond, instead, it dropped them on the leafy ground. Stella's hand slipped down to her belt where her sword rested, but she as the hobbits made no movement to get up. They did, however, incline their heads up to see a figure dressed all in white with a withered face and a winding walking staff.
Stella's jaw dropped at the sight. This wasn't Saruman. This White Wizard was supposed to be dead.
Legolas was itching to shoot the horse master right between the eyes.
The Riders of Rohan were not very welcoming, but he expected that, so it did not bother him in the least. No, he was bothered because the loud, boisterous dwarf was just threatened to be decapitated by a human.
Legolas knew that he could be speared by the men surrounding him and face a grisly death if he let his temper get the best of him, but that did not stop him from raising the already notched bow. His patience was already quite thin and he did not want to see another member of their company take their last dying breath while he could help it. It wasn't because Legolas liked the dwarf; he simply felt an obligation to threaten those who threatened the Fellowship. It would be the very same for any one of the hobbits, or Aragorn, or Stella...
Stella. His heart constricted at her name and he pursed his lips, running his fingers on the corner of her bow that was slung across his shoulders. He had found her elven carved weapon buried in the brush on the ground, but no Stella. Legolas tried not to dwell on the lost elleth and hobbits, for the idea of them being in possession of the orcs left a foul taste in his mouth. Instead, he tried to focus on the conversation being held between Aragorn and a horse master with long blonde hair.
Currently, the man from Rohan was pulling his helmet from his head and gesturing to the rest of his men to lower their weapons. His face was stoic as he dismounted from his horse.
"I am Èomer of Rohan," he introduced himself, nodding his head stiffly at them.
Aragorn returned the gesture lightly and respectfully. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Glòin, and Legolas of Mirkwood. We are friends of Thèoden, your king."
Èomer narrowed his eyes at the elf prince, who simply held the man's gaze, unblinkingly. Eventually, the horse master looked away and carried on with the conversation, but not without one more pointed glance in Legolas' direction.
"Thèoden does not recognize friend from foe. He does not even know his own kin," the horse master said, a pained tone buried in his tone. "Sauron's reign of darkness is to great and the White Wizard's control is too widely spread. They have gained possession over King Thèoden and this land. The company you see are the one's who are loyal to Rohan, and for that, we are banished. It has not been easy, for the White Wizard is cunning, and his spies roam everywhere, slipping past our nets."
He cast another pointed look at Legolas and the elven prince resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Aragorn hastily replied to ease his friend's annoyance.
"I can assure you that we are not spies of Sauron. We are tracking a pack of Uruk-hai. They have taken three of our friends, two hobbits and an elleth," the Ranger informed Èomer. "Have you seen them?"
"We did come across some Uruk-hai late yesterday evening," the horse master said, although he hesitated and shifted his glance around his circle of men before slowly continuing. "But we left none alive."
The elf prince's stomach dropped. Legolas stood very still as his fingers dug into his palms slowly. If Stella, Merry, and Pippin were not killed by the Uruks, then they certainly died at the hands of these men from Rohan.
"We burned the carcasses," Èomer continued after a moment of heavy silence. He pointed his index finger to the thinning black smoke swirling through the blue sky. Legolas swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to stare at the rising black cloud.
"They are dead?" Gimli questioned softly, Èomer's words not quite sinking in yet.
The horse master bowed his head sadly. "I am very sorry. We did not know."
Legolas rested one hand on the shoulder of Gimli and ran his fingers on the corner of Stella's bow with the other. Èomer let out a loud whistle through his teeth.
"Take Hasufel and Arod," he said, handing the reins of the two horses to Aragorn. "They will take you to where you so desire. May you fare better than their former riders."
"Thank you," Aragorn said, passing Arod's reins into Legolas' open hands. Èomer nodded and mounted his horse.
"You may look for your friends, but do not have too much hope. The Uruks are not known to be merciful," the horse master stated as his steed shifted it's hooves from under him. "Farewell."
With one last glance at the company, Èomer lead his men off through the grassy fields. Aragorn's eyes followed the pack of men and horses, but soon mounted Hasufel. Legolas followed his example and, after a short pause, reluctantly extended his hand to Gimli. The dwarf grumbled as he ascended onto Arod, but didn't say anything after he was settled. With a snap of the reins and squeals of the horses, the Ranger, the elven prince, and the dwarf were off, riding to the smoke vibrant against the cloudless sky.
As the three companions rode on to the dark forest, the smell seemed considerably fouler. The sight was even worse. Legolas wrinkled his nose in disgust as Arod and Hasufel neared the outskirts of the woods, where the smoke has been swirling into the sky. The piles of Uruk-hai, burned and battered on the charred ground, was a grisly view, and one that the elven prince hoped he did not see often. Dismounting from Arod and helping Gimli down, he glanced around to better take in his surroundings. Legolas' quiet footsteps brushed the grass as he peered cautiously over the mound of dead orcs. He pleaded to the Valar that he did not see the faces of their lost companions among the masses of dead bodies.
He kept circling around, searching for the sight of Stella's ruddy-brown hair and small face. When he did not see her, relief washed down his spine. However, it was short lived. From one of the mounds of dead Uruks, Gimli pulled a leather dagger belt and held it up with a horrified look plastered on his face.
"It is one of their little belts," the dwarf muttered, shock and sadness evident in his voice. Legolas' blood turned to ice water and Aragorn stood stock still a few feet away.
Then, with an anguished cry, the Ranger kicked a stray helmet near his foot and sunk to his knees, shoulders sagging. It was as if he held the weight of the entire world. Legolas ducked his head in sorrow. He did not lift it until he heard Aragorn shuffle to his feet and speak aloud.
"They laid here. Two hobbits, and an elf on the far side. They were tied up," he said, pointing to the indents in the burned ground. He slowly stepped forward to where an axe was abandoned on the ground and pulled up a frayed rope that was buried in the grassy brush. "They crawled and cut their bonds, before..."
Aragorn trailed off, his gaze settling on the forest in front of them. Legolas knit his brow, directing his vision at the dark woods as well. Gimli cleared his throat.
"Before...? Before what?" he asked the Ranger. Aragorn tore his sight from the forest and looked at Gimli.
"Before they ran into the forest of Fanghorn," the Ranger replied. The dwarf's eyes widened.
"Fanghorn? What devilry possessed them to go there?" he inquired, thoroughly appalled.
Legolas, who had come to stand next to Aragorn, knelt at the tracks in the ground. "They were chased by a member of the Uruk-hai."
"If the Uruk did not find them," Aragorn said, his lips pursed. "Then whatever is in that forest would have."
Legolas ran his ring finger over Stella's bow and stared into the dark pits of the forest, silently praying that whatever found the elleth and the two hobbits, it was no match for them. All he really wanted was for them to come back alive.
"Then we must follow," Legolas said, after a deafening silence hushed the three companions. Gimli and Aragorn looked at him with surprise at first, but then their expressions turned grave.
"As much as I would like to disagree," Gimli said darkly. "The elf is right."
Aragorn peered into the Fanghorn forest. "Then so we shall."
And, without another word from any of them, the remaining members of the Fellowship trekked off into the dark woods, their safety even more uncertain than before.
Whoops, I accidentally sent them to their doom.
Well...sort of.
This was interesting to write because I've come so accustomed to writing about Stella's life that this was completely new to me. At some points, I even had to ask Joanna if Legolas sounded too much like Stella. Overall, this was a nice new development.
Thank you so much for reading!Please R&R!
Catch you later! :)
-Halesie