The War of Light and Shadow
By Freddie23
OIOIOIOI
Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.
A/N: Thanks so much for all your lovely reviews. Keep 'em coming for this new chapter. Enjoy.
OIOIOIOIOIOI
Chapter 32 – The Rohirrim
OIOI
Before Legolas could put his theory that there was no hope left in this battle to the test, the creature coming at him yelped in stunned pain then fell with a loud thud, dead, just inches from Legolas' feet. Astonished, the Elf looked about himself in pure confusion, unused knives still raised before his body in defence. From the darkness of the Plains, a huge stallion charged abruptly into the battle, leaving Legolas to jump back out of its way or get trampled by wide pounding hooves. This one horse was followed closely by yet more others. All were ridden by ragged but proud-looking Men bearing spears and bows. A terrible screeching sounded as the Men pierced the remaining beasts with their spears and shot at the surprised Orcs with long, well-crafted arrows. Clearly they had done this before. They were practiced in the art of slaughtering the Enemy upon the wide open plains.
Not one of the Rangers was hit in the assault, although like Legolas, they were forced to scramble out of the way of the hooves of the great war horses as they charged blinding through.
It seemed that within seconds the Orcs and the savage beasts they rode were all slaughtered and the chaos of battle diminished if not to quiet then at least to some semblance of order. The men on horseback took the time to check that all the Orcs and their beasts were truly dead, blatantly ignoring the Rangers who remained on the side-lines, nervous of these newcomers.
Once certain that all the allies of Sauron were dead, one of the horsemen dismounted, throwing the reins up to one of his other men to take so that the skittish mount didn't bolt, then turned to the men stood around.
"What business do you have in the Mark?" a strong, deep voice demanded to the Men in general, uncertain who their leader was as of yet. He did not seem pleased by the presence of the strangers on the plains, however, his bearded chin set in defiance as he peered at them through the darkness.
After sharing an uncertain glance with Janor, Kinnale hesitantly stepped forward; he had to speak for his people, after all.
"I am Kinnale, sir, of the Rangers of the North, hailing from the township of Bree." He paused then, waiting for any sign of recognition or perhaps a similar introduction from the other. Neither was forthcoming, however, so he prompted politely, "And who am I addressing, sir?"
The tall man looked Kinnale up and down with open suspicion bordering on contempt, deciding whether or not to answer with a name. Apparently, he decided against an introduction in the end in spite of Kinnale's politeness in answering his own demand, saying instead, "We do not abide outsiders in our lands. Spies of the Enemy are all about us."
"We are no spies," Kinnale stated coldly, surprised by the allegation. As he continued, he stood taller, refusing to be intimidated. "We are Rangers, servants of the Light. And I ask again: who are you, sir?"
The man stared at him distrustfully for a long moment, glanced back at the others in his group as if silently asking their opinions even though none of them spoke in response. All looked similarly uncertain. Much as the Rangers had done when they discovered Legolas and Aragorn upon Weathertop, it was not expected to meet strangers in this day and age. The unknown must be treated with extreme caution, always.
When he turned his eyes back to Kinnale, he seemed to take the time to weigh up his options, carefully considering the consequences of trusting these so called 'Rangers of the North'. Clearly, he had never heard of the roaming Human protectors so was naturally distrustful of them.
As the horseman was considering all he had been told, Legolas moved quietly around the skittish war horses the Men of the Mark rode. He had spotted Aragorn standing amongst the Rangers and he wanted to be sure that the man was unhurt after the battle. When he reached the young man, who was so busy staring in wonder and astonishment at the Men and their steeds that he hadn't even noticed Legolas' quiet approach, the Elf laid his hand on the man's shoulder. Aragorn startled at the unexpected touch and turned abruptly but relaxed when he realised it was simply his guardian.
"Are you alright?" Legolas asked his ward in a whisper so he didn't disturb the contemplative silence.
"Fine. You?" Legolas just nodded in response and looked back to the horsemen. Following his example, Aragorn asked in a whisper, "Who are they?"
"Well, I'm just guessing but I think it's a fair bet that they're the Rohirrim we have been searching for."
Aragorn nodded in agreement; he too had made that same supposition. It was indeed a safe bet that they had found the objects of their searching.
Heaving a sigh, the tall horsemen finally reached up to remove his helmet, revealing a head of scruffy blonde hair beneath the dented helm. "I am Eomer, commander of the Rohirrim."
At long last, an introduction. Kinnale bit his tongue against that particular retort and instead nodded politely in greeting.
"We have cause to thank you, Commander Eomer. Had you not arrived when you did, I fear we would have lost this battle," Kinnale smiled, demeanour looser now that the immediate threat had passed.
Sternly, Eomer nodded and said without humour, "I think you would have too." Ignoring Kinnale's frown at the cold comment, Eomer turned to his men. "Burn the corpses."
"Commander, we have been searching for you," Kinnale told him before he could stride away in order to help his men with the grisly yet satisfying task.
"Why?" Eomer demanded suspiciously.
Noticing that the other Rohan men were watching them closely, the commander of the Rangers stepped closer to Eomer. "Could we speak in private?"
Eomer looked reluctant to speak with the Ranger alone but after staring for a long moment into Kinnale's eyes to check for sincerity, and perhaps weighing up whether he could win against him should it come down to a fight, he finally nodded in acceptance. Gesturing vaguely for his men to continue with the grim task of clearing the battlefield, he followed Kinnale away from the others.
Aragorn watched them go then turned to Legolas, unsure as to whether he, as their future king, should join the two commanders; the conversation was bound to turn to him at some point and he should like some say in it. Legolas shook his head softly though. This was a talk between two commanders and they should be left to it for the time being.
The Men of the Rohirrim cleaned up the mess of the battle efficiently, suggesting that this too was not an unfamiliar task to them. After a while of standing around in uncertain hesitation and feeling utterly useless, the Rangers went to help, taking the opportunity to assess their own losses to the Orcs. Mercifully, they had been relatively few. They had been prepared for the attack, thanks mostly to Legolas' early warning, or the aftermath could have been so much worse. The two sets of Men worked together in mutually suspicious silence, still uncertain whether they stood together as friends or potential enemies. Their respective commanders were still thrashing that subject out away from their ears.
Whilst Legolas watched the Men clean up the campsite with shrewd eyes, Aragorn stared over to where Kinnale was calmly explaining their situation to the dour blonde commander of the Rohirrim. And it didn't seem to be going particularly well for the Ranger. It wasn't long before Eomer grew angry at what was being said and began shouting his disapproval, although Aragorn was still too far away to hear exactly what he was yelling about. When Eomer sharply snapped his head to the side to look at him though, Aragorn knew that the horseman had just been told of his true identity and lineage in the race of Men. The blonde man did not seem pleased by the revelation, however, and promptly turned back to Kinnale and started shouting again, gesturing wildly with both hands in Aragorn's general direction. Embarrassed that he was the cause of this tension between the two commanders, Aragorn looked away from them just as Legolas went to step away from him.
"Where are you going?" Aragorn asked him urgently, not wanting to be left alone right then, not when there was such an air of hostility about the camp and when he was the object of said hostility.
"To see if I can recover any of my arrows. Stay here; I'll be back in a moment."
Left on his own now, Aragorn wrapped his arms around himself protectively and glanced back over at Kinnale and Eomer, still deep in conversation.
Meanwhile, Legolas stepped carefully over Orc carcasses to reach the huge wolves, hoping to find that some of his arrows had survived the attack and might be used again. As he yanked loose those shafts that had not been snapped or shattered upon impact, Legolas took a moment to examine the great beasts that the Orcs had ridden into battle on. They were like nothing he had ever seen before, not even in Mirkwood where left in the dark depths of the forest the wild wolves had grown to impressively large sizes. These animals were at least three times as big as anything he'd seen in the forest. With long, sharp claws and fangs that could effortlessly rip clean through even the toughest flesh, they were well-muscled, fast killing machines.
"They're called Wargs," a tentative voice came from Legolas' side and he looked up in surprise to find a young man with hair the colour of straw had paused in clearing the Orc filth away and was watching him.
"Wargs?" Legolas repeated the unfamiliar name softly to himself. He prided himself on having a fair knowledge of the beasts of the wilds but he had never heard of anything called a Warg before. "I have never heard of such a creature," he told the man bluntly.
"Just because you haven't heard of them doesn't mean they don't exist," the Rohirrim told him with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders.
Shaking his head, Legolas muttered, "I didn't mean to imply…" He cleared his throat, giving up on an apology and instead asked, "These are creatures of Sauron's creation?"
"Not the Dark Lord, no. Someone closer to home."
Legolas frowned, not sure to whom the man was referring. "If not Sauron then who?"
"The same one who sent this filth," the man spat, kicking at the dead Orc lying by his feet. At Legolas' continued confusion, the man bent and retrieved the helmet of the dead creature, chucking it to the Elf for him to examine for himself. Legolas looked at the crude metal helmet, so obviously a creation of the Shadow, immediately noticing the markings on the front. "The White Hand of Saruman," the man of Rohan explained simply as if everyone should know of the symbol, and perhaps in the lands of the Rohan everyone did know.
Legolas looked up sharply at the familiar name. "Saruman? The White Wizard?"
"That's the one."
"But that is…"
"From his tower in Isengard he sends these monsters to besiege out people and in the bowels of his black tower he creates other such monstrosities; abominations, too terrible to imagine."
Legolas was stunned by this unexpected news of one of the Istari turning to the Shadow. "But he is a Wizard, one of the Istari, allied only to the Valar and sent to Arda to serve and protect its peoples."
The young man scoffed bitterly at the Elf's idealistic words, having seen many times in spite of his few years the falsity in them. "Great. Say, why don't you march on over to Isengard and remind him of that allegiance? I'm sure he'd appreciate it." And with that final scathing comment, the young man returned to his grim work, back turned on the Elf in distaste.
For a while, Legolas stood holding the helmet emblazoned with the telling White Hand, loosely in his grasp, considering what he had just been told about the Istari. If that order had indeed been poisoned by the Shadow then things were worse than he had imagined.
He had to confess that he had no definite idea what had happened to any of the Istari during the immense violence of the Final War. The only one he could take a guess at was Gandalf the Grey; for he had once known the Grey Pilgrim well, having met with him on his numerous visits to Mirkwood when he passed through close to the palace and they had become good friends in those times before Darkness took over the lands. Gandalf was a Ring-bearer though. Cirdan, the Elf-lord of the Grey Havens, had gifted to him the Ring of Narya, the Ring of Fire, for his safe-keeping. Legolas knew that Sauron was now in possession of all three of the Elven Rings and Gandalf was undoubtedly the most powerful of the three ill-fated Ring-bearers. Sauron would not have been merciful when dealing with this greatest threat and servant of the Valar. So Legolas guessed that Gandalf had not survived the War.
There were five Istari on Arda. Only three of these Legolas knew anything of: There was Gandalf of course, Radagast the Brown and Saruman the White, head of their Order. Of the other two, Legolas knew absolutely nothing for Gandalf had never deigned to speak of them and Legolas had never thought to enquire. But the three most powerful amongst them were well known and before the War were said to have loved Middle Earth greatly, having been tasked by the Valar in Aman with protecting it from harm against all threats.
What, then, could have changed the head of the Order so greatly? Sauron was powerful in his own right but surely he could not have corrupted the Wizards, most trusted servant of the gods.
But if the news that one of the Istari had defected was indeed true then it was grave news for the armies – tiny though they may yet be – of Light. It troubled Legolas greatly.
"Legolas?" Aragorn called his name and he looked over to now find the young man pointing towards the two commanders, who were striding back quickly from the edge of the camp.
The boy did not want to face them on his own, Legolas realised, and he wouldn't let him. Dropping the helmet back to the ground, he hurried over to Aragorn, reaching him just in time to meet Kinnale and the man who had identified himself as Eomer.
Kinnale shot the Elf a wry smile then turned to the young man stood next to him and introduced, "Eomer, this is Aragorn, the reason we're all here."
Looking decidedly uncomfortable, Aragorn nodded politely. "Nice to meet you." Hardly the best greeting he could have given to a potential ally but it was all he could come up with when put on the spot like this.
Eomer nodded in return but said nothing so Kinnale went on, "And this is his guardian, Legolas."
The blonde man's eyes swiftly looked to the Elf then just as swiftly returned to Aragorn, apparently unconcerned about the meaningless guardian at the king's side. In a rough voice, the man said, "We must return before more Orcs come, attracted by the light of the fires."
"Return to where?" Legolas asked when Aragorn remained silent.
Eomer glared hard at him, a gesture which, of course, Legolas entirely ignored, but the commander nevertheless answered the Elf's question. "We go to the Golden Hall at Edoras, where the others await our return. If that is alright by you?" Legolas nodded shortly in reply, not taking the bait and snapping back as perhaps Eomer expected him to. "Alright, let's go," Eomer called over to his men and Kinnale signalled for his Rangers to do the same.
The Rohirrim set the fires on the piles of slain, stinking Orc and Warg carcasses they had built up, then emotionlessly moved out, having performed this grim task many times in the past and grown used to it. The Rangers, however, were a little more reluctant to leave, for they had lost three men in the attack and would normally have taken longer to send them off properly. Close-knit as the Rangers were, it was hard to simply walk away. And yet they were a practical people and they knew that they could not linger on this field of death with the threat of further loss hanging over their heads. So, trusting Kinnale's judgement without question, they followed the Rohirrim, led by Eomer atop his magnificent brown steed.
OIOI
Aragorn yawned widely, fighting to keep his legs from staggering in his fatigue. Legolas' hand suddenly appeared on his arm and he blinked up lethargically at the Elf walking beside him. It was just about dawn and grey light crept slowly across the plains of Rohan, lighting them only marginally. They had been walking all night at an unusually fast pace, easily set by the Rohirrim steeds and, what with the battle and the events of the night, all the Rangers were dreadfully weary. In Aragorn's eyes, even Legolas seemed tired. In the daylight, he noticed that his guardian's face was covered in dried blood and dirt left over from the brutal fight with the Wolves of Isengard, his hands were scuffed and bruised and he held himself stiffly as though aching from the exertion of battle. Looking around him, Aragorn realised that all of the Rangers looked very much the same as his mentor. Only Kinnale was still standing tall, walking at the head of their group, refusing to be bested by the Rohirrim and their own proud leader.
Looking ahead of him to the horses and the Rohirrim who rode them, Aragorn noticed Eomer watching him, body and head extended at an awkward angle so he could do so. When the man of Rohan realised he had been caught staring, he turned back to the road ahead, unrepentant it seemed.
"He has been staring at me all night long," Aragorn bent over and whispered to his guardian.
"They are curious." Legolas did not sound surprised. Indeed, he too had noticed the Rohirrim staring at his ward with open interest and in some cases, hostility.
"I'm not sure they like me very much."
"Well, you may take some comfort in the fact that they seem to dislike me even more."
"Huh, that is a comfort," Aragorn smiled softly in Legolas' direction and the Elf returned the gesture, dried grime cracking slightly to reveal slivers of pale skin beneath. "This is going well already." Legolas chuckled, agreeing with his ward's analysis of their new allies. "Where do you suppose they're leading us?"
"Edoras, apparently."
"Where is that exactly?"
"Honestly, I'm not sure. My knowledge of Rohan and its lands is fairly limited I'm afraid."
Nodding, Aragorn sighed heavily. "Legolas?" The Elf looked to him, waiting patiently for the question Aragorn wished to ask. "Are those…horses safe to ride? It doesn't look very comfortable to be on top of one of them."
At this unexpected question, Legolas couldn't prevent himself from laughing out loud, drawing the eyes of Ranger and Rohirrim alike towards them and yet Legolas continued to laugh almost hysterically.
"What…?" Aragorn started to ask but Legolas just shook his head, unable to speak through laughing. "What?" the young man demanded this time. He looked to the Men around him who were staring in confusion – all except for the twin brothers Carion and Valon, who were grinning in delight at their Elven companion's bizarre behaviour even though they had no idea of the cause of this uncharacteristic display of merriment from the usually staid Elf. "Legolas," Aragorn ground out tightly, "people are staring." Legolas just laughed louder, however, and eventually a smile emerged on Aragorn's own lips; the Elf's laughter was infectious and seldom heard. "What is wrong with you?" Aragorn chuckled through his mirth.
It took a while before Legolas was able to speak again and when he did he was breathless. Putting his hand to his chest as he fought to get his breath back, he said, "I am sorry, Aragorn. I just…I am sorry."
"Are you sure you didn't hit your head when you were fighting? Are you concussed?" Aragorn asked him with a smile.
Legolas clapped his hand on the boy's shoulder, still grinning broadly. "I'm sorry," he said a little more soberly. He took another deep breath, settled once more, although he seemed more jovial in the wake of his amusement than he had in a long while. "Horses…" he started as if to answer the boy's original, perfectly innocently meant question, but he was brought to a halt when laughter bubbled again in his chest.
"Forget I ever asked," Aragorn sighed, not wanting to excite another round of near-hysterics. "I suppose I should just jump on the back of one to find out for myself."
"No doubt you will have your chance. Although might I recommend against 'jumping' on your first try?"
"Have you ever…?" He started to ask another question but already he could hear Legolas snickering again and he sighed in resignation. There was no point in speaking with his guardian when he was in this odd mood. As the Elf continued to chuckle to himself, Aragorn snapped, bordering on grumpy now, "Will I ever be able to ask another question without you laughing?"
Immediately Legolas sobered, realising that his reaction was upsetting his young ward. That had never been his intention and he bitterly swallowed down his amusement in anger at his own thoughtlessness. "I am sorry, Aragorn. Ask your question. I will not laugh, you have my word."
Aragorn looked up sceptically at his guardian but there was absolute truth shining in the Elf's eyes so he nodded and asked somewhat tensely, "Have you ever ridden a horse before?"
True to his word, Legolas answered without so much as a hint of humour. "My people tended to move through the trees when on patrol in the forests but we did have many horses and I was once a fairly proficient rider; probably not the best amongst the warriors of Mirkwood but good enough for our needs. I was taught to ride as soon as it was physically possible for me to do so."
"Thank you," Aragorn answered dryly. "That was all I wanted to know."
Although Legolas smiled softly as he nodded, Aragorn felt his heart plummet at the sense of renewed gloominess that had settled once more over the Elf. How could he have been so thoughtless towards the feelings of his guardian? This morning was the first time that Aragorn had seen Legolas appear truly consumed by thoughtless amusement and he realised now that he missed the light that had shot through bright blue eyes, making them shine and dance. And Aragorn had shattered the Elf's rare moment of mirth.
Feeling utterly ashamed of himself, Aragorn bowed his head, the weariness returning tenfold.
"Legolas?"
"Yes?" the Elf asked, looking over to his ward.
"Do you think anything will come of this?"
"Of the Rohan people?" At Aragorn's nod of confirmation, Legolas shrugged slightly. "They saved our lives and Kinnale seems to think it worthwhile."
"I suppose he knows best," Aragorn reasoned; Kinnale was much-trusted by the boy by now.
For a long moment, Aragorn felt his guardian's eyes boring into him and he felt the urge to demand to know what the Elf wanted to say but he bit his tongue, instead deciding to ignore it for the time being. After a while, Legolas spoke softly, asking, "What do you think?"
"I don't know," Aragorn shrugged dismissively.
"Yes you do. Tell me what you think?"
Slightly startled by the Elf's blunt words – especially in the wake of his light-hearted teasing just moments previously – Aragorn nevertheless considered the question for a moment before answering carefully, "I think they are deeply distrustful, they'll be hard to convince that a union of our peoples is the best course of action in the fight against the Shadow." It was reticent but Legolas nodded for him to continue, encouraging. "They are loyal to Commander Eomer; they trust him implicitly."
"So?"
"So if we want the Rohirrim on our side then we must first convince Eomer."
"And how would you go about doing that?"
The young man went to snap at him that he had no idea but Legolas' eyes were watching him, urging him to think upon the problem then answer. So, supressing a sigh, Aragorn did just that.
Slowly and uncertainly, he answered, "Convince him that joining forces is the best way to help his people. If that possibility exists then maybe he will consider our proposal at the very least."
A small, almost proud smile crossed Legolas' lips and he nodded sharply. "I agree."
Pride surged in Aragorn's chest at the praise. It wasn't often that Legolas offered him such a compliment so he had to accept it when it came. He beamed over at the Elf but Legolas' face had turned stern and serious again, ignoring his ward once more and he now looked intently to the front of the group of Men where the Rohirrim steadily led the way onwards.
Aragorn followed his guardian's gaze, blinking lethargically as the light of day, dim though it was, made his eyes ache with tiredness. Yawning widely in spite of himself, Aragorn stubbornly blinked the heaviness from his eyes, suddenly wishing that the conversation with Legolas had lasted longer as it had at least succeeded in keeping him alert and awake. When he glanced to his side, his Elven guardian was watching him with a frown marring his features. Startling slightly at the expression on Legolas' face – concern – Aragorn stared quizzically back.
"What?" he demanded after a while, getting disconcerted by Legolas' continued, uninterrupted stare.
"You're tired?"
"A little, I suppose." He looked around him at the Rangers and they all looked much the same as he felt and yet Legolas seemed not to notice any other. "But, then, we all are, right?" Even Legolas looked weary, so the man couldn't grasp why the Elf seemed so terribly surprised. "I'll be fine; don't worry," he assured, not wanting to concern his mentor unnecessarily. This was not the first time in his life had he felt dog-tired though, most of the times it had been brought on by Legolas setting a relentless pace.
But Legolas did look worried. After a moment of quiet contemplation, the guardian suddenly moved ahead of his ward, making his way past Kinnale, who headed up the Rangers, and moved lithely amongst the Men on their high horses until he reached Eomer at the front.
It was clear that the commander noticed his presence and yet he was ignored.
Unfazed by this rudeness, Legolas called boldly up to the commander, "Excuse me; I think we should halt for a short break."
Cold green eyes finally looked down at the Elf and a slight sneer came onto the man's thin lips. "Do the Rangers not possess the same endurance as others of the Human race?" he chuckled mockingly, a ripple of similar amusement going up amongst those travelling close to him.
Remaining calm in the face of the man's derision, Legolas corrected softly, "I am no Ranger. And our men have already travelled long and battled hard during the night. They require a short period of rest before we continue any further."
Pulling his steed to a halt by the reins, Eomer glared down at Legolas. "And my men have not suffered the same hardships, I suppose?" he growled.
Legolas held up his hand to stop such hostility before it developed into something more. "I did not mean to imply any such thing. But if it is so that your people also suffer then surely your Rohirrim would also appreciate a brief reprieve."
It was reasonable, they both knew, and yet Eomer still did not look happy with the faultless logic. Jumping effortlessly down from his horse, Eomer faced Legolas head-on, although he was a good few inches shorter than the Elf. "What do you know of my people's needs?"
"I understand the needs of the Rangers."
Stepping closer still, Eomer demanded, "Is that so?"
Legolas considered for a moment then said softly, "It is what the King needs."
Tense silence followed and Legolas could feel the anger coming off of the man of Rohan in waves. And yet it seemed that the commander could not easily come up with a reply. He was torn between his anger and an odd kind of concern for the young man amongst them bearing the title of King, even though he seemed angered by this response as well.
Whilst Eomer was glaring at the Elf, Kinnale pushed his way towards them. "What is going on?" he demanded when he reached them, wondering why they had stopped and from where all this new tension had sprung.
Through gritted teeth, Eomer answered, "Your…soldier is tiring and requires rest. Are all your men so weak as this one, Commander Kinnale?"
Kinnale immediately looked to Legolas, surprised. Not once on the road had Legolas ever asked for a reprieve. "Legolas?" he asked softly in concern.
"Your men are tired. An hour's break will surely do no harm to anyone. We are far enough away now from the beacons the Rohirrim lit on the plains to be considered safe," Legolas told the Rangers' commanding officer.
"Beacons?" Eomer snapped. "How dare you! You have no idea how our people work, what we must daily face in our fight to keep our lands secure."
"True. But I know what my fellows have faced in recent weeks. We have travelled long and hard, facing many dangers to reach you; give us a chance to regroup following the battle we have just endured. Please."
Legolas' words were soft and persuasive but at the same time unchallenging and they resonated with the man and he felt his anger melt a little. All those years in his father's court charming emissaries and diplomats were paying off now. Green eyes moved to the young man, Aragorn, the one that the Rangers proclaimed to be the king of Gondor – as if such a thing were even possible. He looked utterly spooked by the stand-off between Eomer and the one that had been named as his guardian, although the confidant blonde man now stood before him looked little older than Aragorn himself – but for the eyes, piercing blue eyes that stared unflinchingly at him and held wisdom beyond his apparent years and Eomer had to work not to flinch away from their intimidating depths.
Finally surrendering, even though it hurt his pride to do so, Eomer nodded, taking a submissive step back from Legolas. "Very well. We'll rest for one hour. Not a minute longer!"
No sign of arrogant triumph lit the Elf's face as Eomer had expected it to.
"Thank you," Legolas said softly, then guided a startled-looking Aragorn away.
Turning to Kinnale, who looked equally bemused by Legolas' strange behaviour, Eomer asked gruffly, "Who is that man?"
"He is not a man. He is an Elvish prince."
"Elf?" Eomer had never met an Elf before, although he had heard of the race through the campfire stories told by his elders. "So, is that where he gets his haughtiness from?" he asked bluntly to cover up his amazement.
"I would call it common sense, actually."
With the barb from his fellow commander still stinging, Eomer turned away and begrudgingly gave the order for his people to dismount. They did so, taking the time to ensure their steeds were looked after before sitting down on the ground, many pulling out flasks and canteens.
It was immediately obvious that the two sides – Ranger and Rohirrim - were firmly divided. The Rangers sat grouped together, separate from the group of the Men of Rohan. Neither side dared to mix. It was hardly a promising start to an alliance. So far they seemed more to be potential enemies than possible allies.
From a distance, Eomer glared openly at both Kinnale and Legolas. Both were aware of it but said nothing; they didn't want to create any further friction between the two sides. With an exaggerated sigh, Kinnale dropped down to sit next to Legolas on the ground, handing him a canteen of water, which the Elf drank deeply from.
"Our new friends don't seem to like you very much," the man noted, uncaring whether the Rohirrim heard his assessment or not.
"No, they do not."
"And your standing up to Commander Eomer did not help matters," Kinnale added pointedly even though a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth as he said it.
"My deepest apologies, Commander," Legolas said dryly. Then more seriously, he added, "But Aragorn needed the opportunity to take some rest. He is not yet fully recuperated."
Kinnale frowned at this. "But that injury was weeks ago."
Legolas cast him a wry look, as he asked, "You still think me to be overprotective."
"I would expect nothing less." He looked down at Aragorn who laid sound asleep by Legolas' side, covered up in a blanket. It was true that Aragorn still looked paler than was usual for him. Only a handful of times since his injury in battle with the Orcs had he complained of a headache but Kinnale had in the past wondered if Aragorn wasn't simply concealing how he was really feeling so as not to worry the ever-concerned Legolas further. "Don't worry, my friend," Kinnale reassured, "Aragorn will be fine."
Legolas nodded vaguely in response. Of course he knew that Aragorn would be well again given time, but that did not stop him fretting. He could not help but worry about his ward – and not just regarding his past injuries. The sheer look of terror on Aragorn's face when, before Eomer just moments ago, Legolas had referred to him as 'the king' was enough to greatly concern the Elf. For all of his teachings and preparations with the young man entrusted to him, Legolas realised that he had entirely neglected to teach him perhaps the most important lesson of all: that he, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, would one day become a king of Men. Legolas knew only too well what a trial those teaching could be, having been subjected to them pretty much his whole adult life in his role as Crown Prince of Mirkwood. As a youth, placed under the strict tutelage of various lauded teachers and mentors, Legolas had rebelled as much as he could against the learning of what he considered at the time to be an unnecessary skill. After all, King Thranduil would always be there, so what was the point of learning his duties? Fortunately, he had nevertheless been forced to endure the lessons and now he was glad for it, because it was knowledge that would come in useful if only to pass on to his young human ward.
"Time's up," Eomer announced to the men after a while, getting up. "Let's move out."
"Damned impatient man, isn't he?" Janor muttered gruffly, shoving his water flask back in his bag.
"Yes, he is." Kinnale looked equally unimpressed as his second in command.
Legolas, meanwhile, knelt down next to his young ward, gently shaking him awake. "Come, we have to leave now."
Aragorn groaned, trying to shake Legolas off so he could return to the peace of sleep. "Go away."
"I cannot. Wake up. You can rest more when we reach our destination; it cannot be much further now."
Grey eyes forced themselves open with some effort, blinked wearily then Aragorn pulled himself up. "Has it been an hour already?" he asked, pushing his hands through his messy hair.
"More or less," Legolas answered, shooting a distasteful glance in Eomer's direction.
One thing became immediately apparent to Aragorn: Legolas definitely did not like the commander of the Rohirrim and thus he too was distrustful of their new allies.
To Be Continued…