The War of Light and Shadow
By Freddie23
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Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.
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Chapter 48 – Treachery
"Ciaran?" Crouched awkwardly in the darkness, Aragorn shook the boy's shoulder to rouse him. "Ciaran, wake up."
Although barely above a whisper, Aragorn's voice woke Ciaran from his troubled sleep and the young man abruptly sat up, a shout dying on his lips before it shattered the silence. Perspiration beaded on his brow and trickled down his back despite the chill in the night air and he shivered.
It took Ciaran a moment to catch his breath. Blinking rapidly, he looked about to find Aragorn crouched at his side.
"What…?" Ciaran started to ask, eyes still wet and a little unfocused as he struggled to pull himself from the memory of his nightmare.
"Shush," Aragorn hushed him then glanced to the side. Ciaran followed his gaze and saw that Legolas was fast asleep right next to where Aragorn was crouched. "Don't wake him up."
Nodding, the younger man wiped at his face with his sleeve. "Right."
"Are you all right?"
"Yes. I was…It was just a dream." Ciaran's voice was understandably shaky but his breathing had steadied and he appeared calmer now, soothed somewhat by Aragorn's presence at his side. "Sorry I woke you."
"That's all right." Aragorn shifted so he was sat more comfortably on the ground and in a whisper, confided, "I've had my share of nightmares over the years. We all have."
Smiling shakily, Ciaran nodded. "Thank you." He pulled his flask from his bag and took a slow drink of water, taking the pause to calm his nerves in the wake of his disturbed sleep. When he was ready, he struck up a conversation with Aragorn who remained waiting patiently at his side. "Legolas is your guardian. Your father…he died?" Ciaran asked quietly, hesitantly. Aragorn had never spoken of his past before and Ciaran didn't know if it was still a touchy subject for him.
Aragorn did not seem to mind though and answered without hesitation. "Yes. When I was nine."
"Just a child," Ciaran murmured thoughtfully.
"But still old enough to understand all that was going on."
"That must have been hard for you."
"Yes. My father was all I had. My whole life he protected me, shielded me from the real world. I loved him very much."
"Your mother?"
"She died when I was an infant. I don't even remember her."
Shaking his head, Ciaran felt sympathy clench his heart. "I can't imagine that – being all alone."
Aragorn smiled softly at this. "I'm not alone." He glanced behind him over his shoulder then added, "I have Legolas. If not for him I fear that I really would be all alone. I don't know what I'd do. Certainly I wouldn't be here. Probably, I'd be still in the captivity of the Orcs – or I'd be dead."
"Legolas saved you from Orcs?"
"Yes. One minute my father and I were being shoved along by Orcs and the next Legolas appeared and slaughtered every last one of them. He took me with him after my father died. Not that he was happy about it at first. I was sure that he hated me in the beginning but he saved me and has continued to do so ever since."
"I wish I had someone like that in my life," Ciaran said quietly.
"You have your mother in Bree."
"True. I can't wait to get back to her once this is all over. What are you going to do when the War has ended?"
It was a question that took Aragorn by surprise for it was one that he had never even considered before. "I don't know," he muttered thoughtfully, stumped at how to answer. Not once had he thought that one day – if everything went as planned and was successful – the War would be over and he would be free from fear; there would be no need to travel across the lands fighting evil anymore. What then would he do? Would he stay with Legolas? Would the Elf even want him anymore? Where would they go should they remain together? Perhaps they would stay in Gondor – the most likely given that he would be king of that realm – or maybe Legolas would want to return to his own home or maybe to Imladris, he'd liked it there, Aragorn recalled. Would he want Aragorn with him or would the newly crowned king be made to rule Gondor and its people on his own?
"Aragorn?"
Ciaran's voice startled the young man from his thoughts and he realised that he had momentarily become consumed by them. "Yes. Sorry. I…I don't really know." He dusted down his trousers simply for something to occupy his mind. "To be honest, I haven't given it any thought."
Shaking his head, Ciaran mused, "I don't know how you do it."
"Do what?"
"Deal with who you are." Realising that from the look on Aragorn's features he wasn't explaining himself very well, Ciaran corrected, "One day you'll rule over all these people. All those Men looking to you for guidance. I can't imagine how that must feel."
A surge of fear went through his heart as that old dread re-emerged once again, having only been hidden beneath the fragile veneer of calm he had built up over the years since the discovery of his birth-right. He shoved it back down for the time being, unwilling to confront it just yet. He shrugged nonchalantly in response.
"Sorry," the younger apologised.
Aragorn smiled gently, in that gesture dismissing the man's concerns. "You should get some rest," he whispered, sitting up straight as he did so.
"You too."
Chuckling, Aragorn assured, "I will."
"You know," Ciaran smiled as he laid back down, "you sound an awful lot like Legolas at times."
"That is just about the nicest compliment you could have given me," Aragorn grinned in return as he got to his feet, mindful not to disturb his guardian who remained sleeping at his side. "Sleep well."
Ciaran wrapped himself in his blanket, his mind considerably more at ease now. Sleep came more readily this time. With Legolas and Aragorn firmly on his side, he did not feel quite so lost anymore.
OIOI
Rain pelted the sleek black face of the forked tower of Orthanc, flowing down over the glossy facia. Great forks of lightning split the dark sky above, briefly flashing bright white to illuminate the thick clouds still heavy with rain despite the downpour. The pits of Isengard remained active, however, despite the weather, churning out smoke and evil abominations dreamed up in the twisted mind of the White Wizard and brought into creation by dark magic and an army of mindless Orc slaves. The machines of war did not halt for the poor weather.
Inside, in the dry, Saruman, master of Orthanc, was disquieted. These days, controlled and ruled by the Shadow to which he was allied, should have been a blessing. Under Sauron's ever-watchful reign, he should have felt secure. And yet more and more these days he felt his mind troubled, his wearied body resigned to pacing out his anxieties.
He paused at the window, glancing out at the raging storm battering his lands. Unsettled weather echoed his mood. He was restless again. Not like he had been months ago when the Nazgul had come for him but still, he could not remain in any one place for longer than a minute.
From his high window, Saruman saw four riders approaching, racing along the gravel path up to the entrance to the tower he resided in. He frowned, squinting through the glass and the haze of rain to identify his visitors. Undoubtedly they were allies of the Enemy – Men, he guessed, from the clumsy way they rode. Saruman fumed at this. How dare Sauron send such lowly servants to him, his most powerful ally.
Egotistical it may have been to think in such a way – that he remained above all others in Sauron's army – but the White Wizard did not care. It angered him to be thought so little of and he paced again, fists clenched tightly. In the distance, he heard a door slam.
"What?" he snapped irritably upon the knock from his door a few moments later.
The doors were unceremoniously flung open and four men entered in silence to stand before his desk. Saruman watched them, water dripping from their sopping clothes onto the grey flagstones as they stood waiting for him to formally acknowledge their presence. Stood in his study, so blatantly unconcerned that they stared into the face of one of the infamous Istari, Saruman's anger grew.
"What do you want?" the Wizard demanded, cold eyes glaring unflinchingly at the Men.
"We were sent by the Dark Lord. He wants you," one of the men spoke in thick, accented Westron. The accent was easily identifiable to one who was well acquainted to the lands of Men as being from Dunland.
"To do what?"
Glancing uncertainly at one another for the first time, as if they had not anticipated the query, one replied, "I do not know."
Saruman smiled grimly as he perched on his chair, building up the air of natural superiority around him to further unsettle these Men. "I am relieved that you are so very well-informed of your mission here. What an asset to the Shadow you must be."
"Our mission is to escort you to Barad-dur."
"Mordor? I am not going to Mordor."
"The Dark Lord commands it."
"For what purpose?"
They would not answer, he knew, because so lowly an escort would not have been told the details of the Dark Lord's plans and they would not have the sense to enquire. What could Sauron possibly be thinking? He couldn't go to Mordor. Stepping out of his tower was always a chore that he had come to abhor. Going to Mordor was simply inconceivable. And yet he could not disobey an order from the one who held his very life in his cold, dead hand. He was, after all, only as powerful as Sauron allowed him to be, no matter how much that fact frustrated Saruman. Despite all his bravado, he was like all the other servants - under Sauron's complete control.
Muttering a curse under his breath, the Wizard rose to his feet, his joints creaking with age, stiffness, aggravated by the damp weather. Walking to the window again, Saruman sighed heavily then told the four to prepare to leave. He offered them no respite nor chance to dry off before they left again. Let them stand there uncomfortable whilst he made himself ready for what lay ahead.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe this would work to his advantage, prove his undying allegiance to the Dark Lord's will, then at least he would have a chance of getting himself a far more respectable slice of power and they would be on a more equal footing – just as it should be.
OIOI
Awareness tugged at his foggy senses, disturbed the blissful peace of his sleep. He opened his eyes rather surprised that he had at some point during the night fallen into true sleep, but it still took a moment for his vision to adjust to the darkness. After a minute, he could make out the shape of Aragorn sleeping soundly next to him, protected from the rain by his blanket. Legolas could also hear Ciaran's steady breathing on his other side and he was glad that the boy was resting in sleep, undisturbed by the nightmares he feared. It was not either one of the men who had awoken him.
Brushing aside his blanket, Legolas propped himself up on his elbows and looked around the resting camp. Apart from a couple of men patrolling the edges of the camp, everything seemed quiet. So what, then, had woken him?
Now that he was up, Legolas knew that rest would not return easily. Wrapping the now damp blanket around his shoulders, he got to his feet, being careful not to wake Aragorn or Ciaran as he did so. No fire burned this night as the drizzle that made them all feel totally miserable rendered it almost impossible to spark a flame let alone keep it alight. He made his way around the camp to enquire as to any activity from the sentries.
"Prince Legolas," one of them said when they saw his approach.
"Has there been anything out of the ordinary?" Legolas asked, for now ignoring the fact that one of the Men had used his proper title.
"Out of the ordinary?"
Legolas shrugged, "Anything?"
"Not that we have seen, sir."
Finding himself not particularly comforted by this, Legolas looked around again, searching for…He didn't know what. There just remained this feeling in the back of his mind that something wasn't quite right. Over the years, he had come to trust his instincts.
"All right. Thank you."
Adjusting the blanket around his shoulders, Legolas turned to go back to his sleeping place. Clearly nothing was obviously wrong. Perhaps he was just tired, imagining things.
As he did so though, movement caught his eye. He thought at first that it was Aragorn or Ciaran getting up, perhaps in search of him, but as he made his way back to his spot, he noticed that whoever it was moving around was rifling through his bag. He'd taught Aragorn well; the boy would not go through his things without permission and Ciaran would have no cause to. Silent feet served him well in terms of stealth as he approached.
The moment Legolas saw for certain that it was not Ciaran or Aragorn or anyone else he knew, the Elf broke into a run. When he saw the man – for it was a man and not some twisted creature of the Shadow amongst them – pull out a large, round object wrapped tightly in two old, ruined shirts, Legolas could stand to idly watch the intrusion no longer.
"Hey!" he shouted in warning.
The intruder looked up, startled by the Elf's shout, unexpected through the quiet as it was. Then, holding the stolen object close, he raced off into the darkness, not having anticipated the Elf's return.
"What?" Aragorn sat up abruptly at his guardian's sharp yell of warning. Half asleep, Aragorn barely had time to register Legolas passing by, he was running so fast. By now, others had woken, disturbed by the noise around the previously quiet camp, murmuring in question about what was going on. Wasting no time, Aragorn dashed to his feet and hared off after Legolas.
"Damn it!" Legolas cursed loudly, looking all about himself but seeing only darkness. The intruder had escaped him, hidden by the night.
Out of breath, Aragorn finally caught up with him and immediately noticed the look of panic on his guardian's face. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Legolas though, was already running back to camp, although he found that he was hindered a little by people now stood, milling around in an effort to see what the disturbance was all about. Legolas ignored their questions though, pushed through them as he headed straight for the place where he had slept earlier.
"Get out of the way," the Elf snapped sharply at Ciaran as he went, like Aragorn, to ask what was happening. Grabbing his bag, Legolas fought to see its contents in the dark, checking that what he had seen was indeed true. Despite longing for all this to have been a mistake, his search proved fruitless and he slammed the bag down hard on the ground with a loud expletive.
"What is going on?" demanded Eomer, also disturbed by all the commotion and now standing over Legolas.
"Eomer, get your men searching the area. I want everyone out looking."
"Looking for what?"
Getting up, holding his twin knives in his hands, Legolas hastily described what he was searching for. "A man, about five feet, five inches tall, wearing a light blue shirt, black trousers, dark jacket. He ran west not two minutes ago. Fan out and find him."
"Why?"
"Just follow the order!" Legolas snapped impatiently, moving off again, shoving past Eomer as he went. He would not mention anything to the Rohan man just yet, not wanting him to experience the same panic that he was currently feeling; it would only hinder his efforts in finding the thief.
Sighing, Eomer, resigned to the fact that Legolas was not going to let this one go or explain his actions, went to start the search for this vague description of a man provided by Legolas.
As Legolas had expected of the search, it proved pointless. All night they searched, until the pale light of dawn lit the flat plains. His concern grew with every passing minute. Questions came at him constantly about what was going on, about why he was so determined to get this one man back. What did it matter, they asked, if someone decided to break ranks? It was one less mouth to feed so why worry? But he could not answer them. Panic thumped hard in his chest, making concentrating on the task of the search he had insisted upon difficult. This hunt though, was useless. The search party could not stray too far from the camp for fear of leaving the innocents of Rohan unprotected and defenceless against any threat and surely the thief would not be so foolish as to hang about after he had been caught in the act.
"Legolas?" Aragorn caught up with his mentor, the first time he had seen him since Legolas had ordered the finding of the mysterious intruder.
"Not now, Aragorn."
"Yes, now. What is all this about? You have everyone in an uproar. No one knows what is going on."
How could he refuse to answer the questions of his ward? Of anyone here, Aragorn most deserved to know the truth. So, he pulled his young charge away from the others so that they couldn't be overheard by anyone else, and he reluctantly explained, "That man, whoever he was, stole the Palantir."
"What?"
"Keep your voice down," Legolas reminded him, laying his hand on Aragorn's shoulder to lead him away from a group of gathered men.
"He took the Seeing Stone?"
"Yes. Stole it."
"Wait. You mean to say that you have been carrying that thing around with you all this time?" The thought made Aragorn shudder; the memory of that evening five months ago in Edoras when he had first gazed upon that stone being stirred up at its mere mention.
"Of course," Legolas answered, not understanding his incredulity. "You didn't think I would leave it in Meduseld did you; an object as powerful as this?"
"Best place for it."
"It could prove a valuable tool that may well work in our favour."
"That's why you're so worried?"
"Someone stole the Seeing Stone from us, which means that someone wants it. Whatever it's worth to us, I don't wish to see it fall once more in Enemy hands, do you?"
"Hang on." Aragorn dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning in close to his mentor. "Someone wanted the Stone. They were planning to take it from us. That means…"
"There was a traitor in our midst," Legolas confirmed for him.
Stunned by this development, it took a moment to process exactly what this meant. A second after that initial shock had worn off, questions flooded Aragorn's mind. "All this time there has been a spy amongst us," he started off with. "The Enemy will know everything; every detail of our plans, our numbers, resources. A spy would not fail to recount all this to the Shadow." It was a deeply troubling thought. The consequences of this could be immense. "How do we know that if there was one there isn't more?"
"We don't know."
"That is not a reassuring thought."
"No, it's not."
"Legolas…"
"We need to find this man and we're not going to do that by simply combing the area."
"Than what should we be doing?" asked Aragorn in concern.
Legolas went immediately to answer but then thought better of it and instead thoughtfully asked, "What do you think we should do?"
Something this important, Aragorn didn't think it right that Legolas pass the decision over to him in his relative inexperience, yet confidence shone in the Elf's eyes, encouraging him to at least try. "Um, find out if anyone from the Rangers or Rohirrim is missing. Maybe if we had a name it might help."
Legolas smiled proudly at him then nodded in agreement. "Yes. Go give the order to Eomer."
"Me?"
"Aragorn, we haven't time to…"
"All right." Now was not the time to mess around, Aragorn knew. The sooner he gave the order, the sooner they could get back that most invaluable tool that had been stolen from them. "Eomer, Legolas wants a full head-count of everyone – Ranger and Rohirrim – to discover who's missing."
Eomer sighed heavily; how he wished the Elf would make up his mind what he wanted and stick to it. "Fine. Talk to Janor about the Rangers." Not waiting for a response from the man, Eomer hurried off, at the same time calling to retrieve his search party.
"Right."
Janor was also just returning to the came but Legolas had already caught him and was demanding, rather impatiently, that he account for every one of his people. How well Aragorn understood that side of Legolas – demanding and brusque. He'd come to know those traits in his guardian very well, although perhaps he'd toned down this somewhat after the Helm's Deep fiasco. True, it was not really in Legolas' nature to be passive.
"Fine, I'm doing it," Janor finally snapped, pushing past the Elf. As he passed, he muttered, "If you'd just stop yelling at me."
Legolas sighed and went to sit, but then thought better of it and began pacing back and forth instead. He was restless. His mind kept going back to that Stone, which could even now be on its way back into Enemy hands. Sauron would consider it a victory against the Light to take something so potentially valuable from them when they really needed it.
It only took Janor a couple of minutes to confirm that none of the Rangers were missing. Despite knowing that it would take Eomer longer, given that there were by far more Rohirrim to account for, Legolas found himself having to check himself from going over to the man, shaking him and demanding answers right now. Given that he remained constantly out of favour with the commander, he decided against such rash action. So, he resigned himself to pacing and practising the art of patience. Once, he would have found this an easy feat. It had been trained into him in his youth, an imperative trait in a prince who would act as a commander, a negotiator, and ambassador for his kingdom. And back then it had always been so simple. But now, things had changed so much that all hints of forbearance had long since disappeared.
"We have one missing," Eomer declared, startling Legolas out of his thoughts as they wandered.
"Who?" asked Legolas, Aragorn and Janor all in the same instant.
Pushing aside his surprise and indignance, Eomer shook his head and calmly said, "A man named Grima. He's a helper with the healers."
"Not a warrior?" Legolas asked in genuine surprise.
"No, nor a spy," the man shot back, offended by what was being implied. "Our people are not corrupt."
"And yet one of them stole from me."
"My apologies, Prince Legolas. I'll reimburse you," Eomer growled, once more stepping up for the inevitable confrontation that would follow.
"Comforting as your generosity is, Commander, what was taken cannot be replaced."
Eomer looked from Legolas to Aragorn, who both wore grave expressions upon their faces; this was more serious than a few stolen possessions. "What was taken?" Once more, uncertain glances were exchanged between guardian and ward, only making the commander even more suspicious. Knowing that he was more likely to get answers from the Elf than the young man, Eomer turned to Legolas and demanded, "What did he take?"
"The Palantir."
All colour immediately drained from Eomer's face. That the Seeing Stone had been stolen from them was not as troubling to him as the fact that Legolas had brought it with him from Meduseld where it had been locked away and, in Eomer's opinion, should have stayed. He hated that thing more than anything.
"You took that thing from me, stole it out of my home?" the man asked quietly.
"I could not leave it. It's important, Eomer, too important to leave behind and too important to allow to fall back into Enemy hands.
"That thing is evil."
"Maybe. But we have to get it back. Tell me about this Grima."
Although he found that he wanted to argue with Legolas some more – always the most favourable option in Eomer's opinion – he instead decided to answer Legolas' request. "We picked him up on the Plains of Rohan…three years ago. He's quiet, keeps to himself. He expressed an interest in healing so Valon started training him up as an assistant. Unfortunately, he wasn't very good at it and got demoted to general lackey. As far as I know he's never been in any trouble."
"You barely noticed him?"
"I don't take note of every single person who falls under our care."
Legolas sighed and then chuckled under his breath. "And to think, when we first met you were so paranoid about spies. You didn't even notice one amongst your own people."
"Hey!" Eomer exclaimed in indignation.
"Legolas, that's unnecessary," put in Janor, trying to placate the hot-headed pair.
Already Eomer had his mouth open to argue some more but this time it was Legolas who called to a halt any fight that may have been brewing, putting his hands up and reasoning, "We have more important things to worry about right now, like tracking down this…Grima and bringing back the Palantir."
Deflated, the Commander of the Rohirrim nodded. "Fine. What do you propose we do?"
Legolas had already had chance to consider his next course of action. "We know the general direction he headed in. We should use Kalub to track him down."
"Right then. When do we move out?"
"No. Aragorn and I will go. Eomer, you continue to lead the Men on towards Gondor. Do you have a map?"
Outright ignoring the Elf's request, Eomer stared long at Legolas, then came the blast of anger. "You're going off on your own? Are you completely mad?"
"Not completely."
Laughter exploded from the Rohan commander but it was mocking rather than mirthful. "You're going off with no backup." He looked to Aragorn, who honestly seemed just as surprised by Legolas' declaration as anyone else. "You're going to get yourselves killed or captured."
"Doing what?" demanded Legolas. "We are only going after this man and the longer we delay the harder our task will become. Aragorn, get ready to leave."
Eomer looked towards the younger man, half hoping that Aragorn would stand up to his guardian for once and contradict his order, and Eomer rather suspected that a part of Legolas was hoping for that too, for the boy to show some display of defiance or leadership. However, Aragorn made no move to counter Legolas' order and instead sighed then went to do as asked.
"Fine. Go get yourself killed. I don't care."
"Your sentiment is touching, Commander," Legolas observed blandly. Turning to Janor, he asked, "I still need a tracker. Can I take Kalub with me?"
"Yes, of course."
"Map," announced Eomer, tossing a rolled-up, tatty bit of paper at Legolas.
"You remember the route we planned?" he asked of the man, glancing up from observing the map, noting the landmarks nearby. "Carry along that route. Do not deviate. We'll find Grima, get back the Stone and then hurry to catch you up."
"That's your great plan?"
"Yes. We'll reach you before you get to Gondor. Do you think you can remember that, or should I write it down for you?"
"I'll try," ground out Eomer, not taking too kindly to the quip.
"Cheer up, Commander. You should be pleased. After months of wishing you are finally getting rid of me."
As the Elf got up and moved past him, Eomer nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "That is one up-side I had not considered."
To Be Continued…