The War of Light and Shadow

By Freddie23

OIOIOIOI

Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed and everyone who is still reading this story. I hope you all enjoy the chapter.

OIOIOIOIOIOI

Chapter 49 – Truth And Deception

"Can I just…?"

"No."

"But…"

"Silence."

Silence lasted no longer than half a minute before Aragorn could not help himself and spoke up again. "Can I just note that we have been searching for Grima for two weeks now and we are no closer to finding him? He is probably long gone by now. We're wasting our time."

Legolas looked up at him sternly, not happy with his ward's, admittedly fairly accurate appraisal of their situation. Nevertheless, he sighed heavily. "I know."

"We should go back, catch up with Eomer and the others."

"Probably."

His guardian did not sound entirely convinced, however. He was determined to find the creature who had stolen a weapon that could change the outcome of their campaign. It was both admirable and yet frustrating at the same time.

"And yet, we're still here, searching for someone long since disappeared."

"Evidently. Stop complaining."

"If anyone cares, I'm with the boy on this one," Kalub put in suddenly from the darkness opposite Legolas.

"Nobody cares," Legolas answered sharply.

"We're a very inclusive, democratic little group; it's good to know."

Rolling his eyes in exasperation at both men, Legolas laid down on the ground, folding his hands neatly over his stomach. "If you two have finished I'm going to sleep."

The conversation was ended at this so Kalub also laid down, falling asleep within minutes as he always did, and Aragorn sat watching the black spot where he knew his guardian reclined, even though it was too dark to see anything at all. Now that they had left the presence of the other Men, Legolas had happily reverted back to their old ways – long days and little rest and no fire to sleep beside at night. Despite being robbed of the relative comforts of the Ranger and Rohirrim camps, Aragorn found himself actually liking the return to simplicity. Which was more than could be said for their unenthusiastic tracker.

Kalub, unused to the ways of the two companions, had done nothing but complain about everything he could think of – the pace, the places they chose to rest when Legolas consented for them to halt, the lack of fire to banish the autumn chill in the air. Bad-tempered at the best of times, the man's mood had steadily degenerated over the past fortnight, increasing the tension between the three travellers, especially where Legolas was concerned. With little patience to begin with, Legolas' mood had declined in the same manner as the other man until the tension had grown to the point of being palpable and uncomfortable.

Typically short on tolerance, Legolas found the constant whining Kalub subjected them to extremely irksome, just as he had done when Aragorn, as a child, had complained and questioned regularly whilst on the road. Unfortunately, Aragorn found the whole thing at times highly amusing, shooting knowing looks in his mentor's direction whenever Kalub's back was turned. As well as amusement, he had to admit a certain amount of pleasure at Legolas' irritation. It felt good that it was not aimed at him for a change.

As the night passed, Aragorn fell to sleep at last. Having declared that there was no need to set a watch as three of them would be nowhere near as conspicuous as hundreds of Rohirrim all moving together, Legolas had encouraged his companions to take the chance to rest when they stopped and both men had eagerly taken up that opportunity, needing the sleep after the Elf's attempts to push them as hard as possible during the day.

Dawn came quickly and the three made no delay in getting on the move again. There was a different feeling in the air now. Impatience, the enduring need to keep moving. It made them all oddly anxious and jittery.

"So, how much longer do you think this is going to take? He could be anywhere. We should just call it a failure and get back to the others, you know, where it's safe," suggested Kalub as they got moving without bothering to pause to eat rations from their packs.

"Scared?" Legolas teased as he picked up their pace further.

"Not at all. Just trying to be realistic about this. He's one man, obviously on a mission, who has thousands of leagues to hide in. He could be heading anywhere and using almost any route to get there. It's impossible."

"You're an optimist, you know that?" chuckled Aragorn. He liked Kalub. More so now than he ever had when they were running with the Rangers.

"I'm being a realist."

"Well, stop it. It's annoying."

Kalub rolled his eyes at Legolas. "Just trying to make conversation."

"Keep your eyes on the ground."

"Despite not having even a shred of confidence in me, Legolas, I know my skill better than you ever will and I am perfectly capable of doing my job and holding a civilised conversation at the same time."

"Glad as I am to hear that, please concentrate."

"I am concentrating. Tell him, Aragorn."

Bored now with the tracker's persistent badgering of his guardian and Legolas' decisions to always engage him in his arguments, Aragorn sighed, "Legolas, he is concentrating. Can you tell him to shut up now?"

"You tell him. You're the one with the power to order him," Legolas informed his ward, only serving to irritate both Aragorn and Kalub further. That happy banter was starting to annoy all of them.

"Great. Thank you."

"What is that?"

"You tell me, you're the focused tracker here," muttered the Elf under his breath.

"I'm serious," Kalub told him before jogging a little way ahead of them to get a better look at what had caught his sharp eye in the distance.

"He just knew that I had bested him," Legolas reasoned quietly to his ward.

"Sure he did."

"Legolas!"

All hint of joviality was gone in an instant when Legolas saw Kalub a few feet away, his face pale, weapons now in his hand, ready for action. It didn't matter that he teased Kalub with his doubts about Men's capabilities. Despite all that, he knew the man to be good at his job and he knew when to take an alarm call seriously. As he ran, Legolas also armed himself, knowing the look on Kalub's face all too well. When he reached the tracker, he realised why he wore the expression of horror.

Crude wooden spikes protruded from the soggy ground, atop which sat the many decomposing and stripped Human and Orkish heads. Warnings. Warnings they were very familiar with.

"We have to leave," Legolas immediately told him, noting how Aragorn was nodding in complete agreement with that sentiment before he had even completed the sentence. The young man had in the past seen up close the dire consequences of ignoring such warnings and had no desire to see it again. "We have to go right now."

"Yes. Except Grima's tracks still lead in that direction."

"He walked straight through territory controlled by crazy people?"

"Well, I'd imagine he ran, but…"

"We can't go this way."

Aragorn put in definitively, "No, we cannot."

To steady his antsy ward, Legolas laid his hand on Aragorn's shoulder and squeezed gently, asking Kalub, "If we went around, do you think you could pick up Grima's trail again?"

"This territory could go on for leagues and we've no clue which way Grima went. Finding him again could prove problematic and time consuming. By the time we caught up with him again it could be too late," Kalub answered more professionally than Legolas had ever heard him speak before.

"Judging from these tracks," Legolas glanced to the vague footprints in the mud, easily recognisable as Grima's to one who knew what they were looking for, "how far ahead of us would you say he is?"

Thinking for a moment, Kalub deliberated, drawing on his years of experience to determine how much time had passed since the tracks had been made in the muddy ground. "No more than an hour I would guess."

It was a tough choice. Venturing into land that was clearly populated by dangerous Men was extraordinarily risky. And yet it might just be worth the risk if it meant retrieving the Palantir.

"We should go through."

Legolas raised his head, startled by his ward's unexpected decision and apparent willingness to suddenly speak up. Given that Aragorn had already suffered much at the hands of the dangerous Wild Men who left such marks around their territory, it was even more of a surprise that he was willing to go anywhere near them again. However, there was much at stake now and Legolas found that his heart filled with pride that his ward was finally able to see that and put aside his own fears for what would eventually prove to be the greater good.

"You heard him," Legolas told Kalub sharply when the tracker started to protest.

With a dejected sigh, the older man agreed, "Whatever you say."

"Keep your eyes open and your weapons to hand."

"Good advice. Don't know how I would have managed without it," Kalub muttered sarcastically in a low voice. It wasn't like any of them were going to be letting their guard down around such perilous parts.

As Legolas boldly followed the Ranger after the tracks left by the mercifully clumsy Grima, he realised that Aragorn was not next to him and he turned to find the boy standing with a haunted look in his eyes and his hand delving deep into the left pocket of his jacket.

"Aragorn, come." Upon his mentor's firm command, Aragorn blinked as if woken from deep thought and took a step forward into enemy territory. Slowly, reluctantly, he withdrew his hand from his pocket, rubbing his fingers together as they tingled slightly with some unknown force. "All will be well," Legolas assured as the two fell into step together.

"Right," Kalub shot back, "we'll see how long that optimism holds out."

OIOI

"Something is not right," Aragorn breathed nervously as they moved with all possible caution and speed through the lands controlled by the Wild Men.

Usually, Legolas would have sharply berated him for his pessimistic commentary, only making everyone around him nervous, but this time he could not do so as he felt just as on edge as the young man. Even fully armed and alert as they were there was no guarantee that they would not run into trouble and end up on the wrong side of the rabid, insane, cannibalistic Humans. Scattered around, planted deep into the ground, which had changed from saturated mud to pure white stone some time ago, were various grisly reminders to any travellers brave or stupid enough to venture into such accursed territory; remains of ill-fated victims who, clearly having missed, or, more worryingly for the three latest intruders, blatantly ignored the multiple warnings spread out around the territory, had fallen into Enemy hands and ended up themselves as trophies and visual lessons to the foolish or the daring.

"Maybe we should turn back," Kalub suggested uncertainly in a whisper, his bravado having long since drained away as they progressed through the gruesome exhibition of horrors. Despite his reticence to continue, the tracker kept his sharp eyes trained to the ground, following the footprints and disturbed soil.

"We're here now. Turning back is pointless," reasoned the Elf.

"But perhaps safer."

"Just remain vigilant."

Vigilance was not a problem. Eager as he was to retreat from this dire place, Kalub was keeping his eyes on the trail left by the fleeing traitor so he could move as fast as possible and not make any mistakes along the way that could delay them. They were making excellent progress. And yet, for all of them, it seemed not quick enough.

"Wait," Legolas said suddenly, his arm shooting out and grabbing ahold of Kalub, who walked beside him, to draw him to a halt.

Already skittish given their current position, Aragorn's eyes darted around, panicked. "What?" he demanded. "What's wrong?"

"Someone's coming. Hide."

With no further questions and protestations, the three of them ran to a cluster of grey-white rocks nearby, one of several groupings that had given the travellers no end of concern for fear that enemies could be concealing behind. Now it proved a blessing. They hurried behind the rocks, trusting that Legolas was able to determine which direction the people moving towards them were coming from. Crouched low, they waited. Aragorn hardly dared to breathe through the fear of detection.

To soothe his ward, Legolas gripped his shoulder tight. But it was the feel of warm gold hidden snugly in his pocket that calmed Aragorn's fears more effectively than the support of his guardian. He closed his eyes, listened to the sound of his heart beating in his chest, in perfect synch with the gentle pulse of the gold band. It sang to him. Reliable as it always was, panic fled his heart only to be replaced with warmth; a peace flooded him unlike nothing he'd ever experienced before. Obscured beneath this ocean of perfect calm and peace raged a deep raged a deep, roiling darkness, only just in Aragorn's awareness. He shied away from it though, not wanting to see what lay beyond the more appealing feeling of security the Ring presented him with. Perhaps this was not so bad after all.

A strong squeeze on his shoulder, almost to the point of being painful, dragged Aragorn from his tranquil repose and he almost snapped in anger at Legolas for interrupting.

The intense concern burning in Legolas' eyes brought Aragorn back to his senses and he pulled out his hand from his pocket, immediately feeling the sense of peace and anger at his guardian dissipated to be replaced by the more appropriate sense of anxiety at being in Enemy territory. He blinked in confusion, clearing his mind.

There was no opportunity at that moment for Legolas to enquire what exactly was the matter with his ward – although he had his suspicions.

Sitting silently, waiting for the feeling of danger to pass proved hard to bear. All was quiet although a thick sense of expectation hung in the air. It was making the three of them tense, ready to snap at the slightest sign of danger. Realistically, this was a risky state to be in. Such tension made them reckless and that was how performance in battle slipped.

"Do not move."

That instruction was hardly necessary; they were frozen already.

"Slowly, drop your weapons to the ground and raise your hands above your heads."

Despite the voice being thickly and strangely accented, it was authoritative and clear in its demands. It was not the words that in the end convinced Aragorn and Legolas to follow the commands though, it was the touch of cold, sharp steel to the napes of their necks; weapons perfectly positioned to kill.

Shifting his eyes over to his two companions, Legolas realised that there were two ways to go on this. Aragorn, nervous already, had lowered his weapon, although did not entirely relinquish it as commanded, whilst Kalub was gripping the handle of his sword so tightly that his knuckles were white from the strain; he was ready to launch an attack as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

On this occasion, however, Legolas believed it best to err on the side of caution, take Aragorn's safer route.

Both Men were discreetly looking at him for an answer on what to do. With a short nod of his head, Legolas had them disarm. As instructed, they each let their weapons drop to the ground before them and raised their hands where their attackers could see them.

"Good. Do exactly as you're told and you might just live through this," the voice told them.

Legolas searched his recollection to try to place the distinctive, rather exotic accent but came up with nothing. His main goal right then though was to determine exactly how dangerous this man was. Immediately, he dismissed the idea of him being one of the Wild Men. This man spoke with intelligence and rationality, two things that the twisted Wild Men generally lacked.

"Now, you are going to be blindfolded. Keep calm and do as I ask and you will be treated with respect, fight and we will become forceful," explained the voice with impeccable calm.

"Who is 'we'?" Legolas dared to enquire, turning his head slightly to the side in the hope of catching a glimpse of his attacker.

Immediately, the sword-point at Legolas' neck was pressed closer and he instinctively froze again. The voice now held a sharp warning, more threatening than it had been so far. "Do not look at us. Keep your eyes lowered to the ground. All of you. Your questions can wait until we deem it appropriate that they be answered. Do you understand this?"

"Yes."

Kalub shot the Elf a brief, disbelieving look but Legolas was unconcerned by it. Right then his aim was to remain cool and not inflame the anger of the men with the weapons. He did exactly as asked, dipping his head and keeping his eyes directed toward the ground. So far, this educated man with the strange accent had been unfailingly polite and reasonable and Legolas was not about to give him any excuse to change that tact. Had these people wanted them dead, he guessed they would be already.

As they had been instructed would happen, blindfolds were tied around each of their heads, gently and respectfully, covering their eyes. All three were warriors by training and being so incapacitated was incredibly uncomfortable. They did not like being rendered powerless. But, under Legolas' instruction, they remained calm.

Legolas heard three sets of footsteps, two heavy and clumsy, the other softer, moving around them. Then more steps came towards them. Not one of them spoke; they didn't want to give their identities away.

The spokesman for these people, his voice now coming from in front of Legolas, said, "Place your hands together behind your backs. You are going to be tied up at the wrists. Please do not struggle."

A short nod came from Legolas in acceptance. Roughly, a rope was bound around his wrists. Apparently, the well-spoken man's heavy-footed companions were not quite so well-mannered when it came to handling the intruders into their land. Once they had been restrained Aragorn, Legolas and Kalub were dragged to their feet without fair warning. They were shoved into the correct direction and pressed to walk on. For the first few steps, the two blindfolded Men stumbled, disorientated at walking and not being able to see where they were going or treading. Only Legolas remained unfazed, using his other senses to compensate for his lack of sight.

They walked for a while before finally they were brought to a halt and once again pushed down onto their knees.

"Any idea where we are?" whispered Aragorn to either Legolas or Kalub, both equally capable of answering.

"No," both answered in the most maddening way to Aragorn.

The calm voice returned in front of them, informing the three, "Your blindfolds will now be removed. The light is dim; it will not hurt your eyes."

As promised, the pieces of cloth were indeed removed from their eyes although they remained tied up. The light was dim for it was evening by now.

Legolas blinked rapidly, allowing a moment for his vision to adjust fully despite the minor change. Then he looked upwards and, for the first time, set his eyes upon their 'host'. The man was immediately impressive to behold. He was by no means a big man, shorter by a good couple of inches than Aragorn but nevertheless he was intimidating to behold. Dressed in unusually pristine burgundy-coloured clothing, fine black cloth swathed his head and covered all but his eyes, sleek and perfectly-maintained weapons hung from a polished black belt tied around his middle.

Unfortunately, Legolas could tell little of where they had been led to, only that they remained in roughly the same area as the mud was dotted with smooth white rock and in the distance he could just make out another grisly, territorial warning.

The man took a step backwards and then sat primly down on a nearby rock, watching his captives with fiercely intelligent, dark eyes. "You have questions."

"Yes," Legolas agreed, taking a moment to check that both Kalub and Aragorn were well next to him. Both looked unharmed and indeed Aragorn nodded once to reassure his guardian that he was unhurt. Kalub, on the other hand, was attempting to disentangle his wrists from the rope and at the same time was glaring daggers at their captors. "Who are you and why did you attack us?"

"We did not attack." The man leant forward, clasping black-gloved hands in front of him so they rested on his lap. "Have we so far been anything but civil towards you?"

"Tying us up and blindfolding us are not actions I would acquaint with civility," pointed out Kalub, a comment that may have sounded perfectly justifiable had it come from Legolas' much calmer voice but the accusing growl from the tracker sounded unnecessarily confrontational given the strange had been exceedingly polite and restrained thus far.

"Many spies travel these lands." He spread his hands then and even though his face was mostly covered with dark cloth it was obvious that he was smiling. "You can forgive us our caution."

Kalub looked away in disgust, muttering a filthy curse, whereas Legolas merely nodded in understanding. As a commander, Legolas knew that he would probably have done the same thing.

"You believe us to be spies?" Legolas asked of the man.

"What other cause would you have for skulking around these lands?"

Lying to this man was an appealing way out. But this was no brainless man of the wilds; he was smart, quick-witted. Surely, he would see through any attempts at deception. So honesty really was the only way to go in this case.

"We were searching for…someone," Legolas finally answered; still cagey about giving out too many details to these people he knew nothing of. Perhaps 'partial truths' were best.

"Ah." Dark eyes twinkled almost in amusement. "One of your own gone missing?"

"A defector," Legolas clarified shortly.

"I see. And you are trying to track him down?"

"That is why we are here. Kalub is a tracker."

"Which one is Kalub?" the man asked, his eyes shifting along the line knelt before him.

"The grouchy one," Legolas answered immediately, nodding his head in Kalub's direction, having to fight a smile at the tracker's furious expression at his blunt description of him.

"And this…defector, he wouldn't happen to be about my height, black hair, pasty complexion?" the man asked.

For an answer, Legolas looked to his companions. In all his time travelling with the Rohirrim, he could only put names to three faces: Eomer, Eowyn and the healer Valon. He had no clue who Grima was even after Eomer had described him in detail. Aragorn had always been the more personable and surely with the tracker's sharp eyes Kalub had noticed the traitor who had sat amongst them all this time.

Indeed, it was Kalub who confirmed it for the man. "That sounds like him – if you add slimy to the description."

The man nodded slowly, eyes narrowing slightly as if struggling to come to his decision. Legolas waited patiently for him to work it out even though he was brimming with questions as to how this strange man knew of their missing traitor.

Eventually, the man got to his feet with grace Legolas would usually have equated with the Elven race, and waved to one of his companions. After a moment, the sound of struggling came and from behind a rock appeared, most surprisingly, the man known as Grima, blindfolded and gagged and bound, was dragged fighting against two Dwarves holding him firmly. Legolas didn't honestly know what he had expected less – seeing Grima under the arrest of these strangers or that the people holding him were of the Dwarven race, a race widely believed to be all but extinct.

"Is this your traitor?" the man asked, glancing briefly back at the bound man.

Grima raised his head, pausing at the accusation. A muffled protestation went entirely ignored by everyone around him.

"Yes, that is him," confirmed the Ranger's tracker.

"How is it that you have him?" Legolas asked of their captors.

"We found him trying to cross this land. We apprehended him, asked him some questions about his reasons for trespassing. He gave us no information then tried to run and so we restrained him thusly." The man moved with long, confident strides to stand before his three prostrate prisoners. "Why exactly is he running from you?"

"Because he stole something from me," Legolas answered, shooting a gaze burning with anger in Grima's direction.

"What did he steal?"

This, Legolas was not going to answer candidly. He did not want this man he knew nothing of to know all about the Seeing Stone he had once possessed. He instead went for a vague, annoyingly enigmatic answer. "Something of great value to us."

"Is that so?" The man was sharp enough to know when not to push for an answer; when it would prove a pointless waste of energy. He sensed strength and great determination, stubbornness in the blonde man bound and knelt passively before him. He might have looked cowed but looks could be deceptive, he knew. Very much like himself, the robed man realised with a hint of pleasure. It had been a long time since he felt he'd come across one equal to him. Intriguing was the best word he could come up with to describe the situation which was now unexpectedly unfolding before him.

Getting the definite sense that something had changed within this strange man who stood before him, Legolas cocked his head to one side and asked, "Did you find…anything on him when you arrested him?"

The man paced a couple of times in front of them, weighing up his options. Then he nodded softly, decision made, and answered with a smile. "He carried a bag stuffed full of dried food, which I assume he stole from you also, some of the scruffiest clothes I have ever seen in my life and a large ball of solid stone infused with what I know to be the darkest of dark magics."

Legolas stared openly, startled somewhat by this man's flippancy regarding the importance of the Palantir he had found completely by chance; for he could tell by the glint in the man's dark eyes that he knew exactly how important that 'large ball of solid stone' was. Less surprised was Legolas that this man of obvious knowledge and cunning knew of the Palantir's dark magic. Despite his seeming – comparatively - few years on the earth, he was wise. In these times, youth did not necessary mean lack of wisdom it seemed.

Still, he needed confirmation before he said anything more, so he pressed, "You know what it is you have in your possession?"

"I do."

Aragorn spoke up for the first time. "How do you know?" Anything that involved the Isengard Seeing Stone made him feel extremely uneasy, propelling him to ask the question. It concerned him that this strangely dressed man seemed to know a fair amount about the Palantir and did not seem overly startled by the fact.

"The Stones are hardly a great secret," their captor told them cryptically, a smile in his dark exposed eyes. "One hears all sorts of things…when one takes the initiative to listen."

It was not exactly the succinct reply Aragorn had been hoping for so he looked to his guardian to take over once more.

"Spies? You're spies?" Legolas asked bluntly of their captors, making his distaste for the profession plainly known despite the fact that he knew he was hardly in a position to be making such bold accusations.

Laughter spilled easily from behind dark cloth. "Nothing so conspiratorial. We listen closely to all those willing to talk. Not all the allied lands are wholly loyal to the Shadow."

The implication was clear to Legolas and he stared for a long moment in shock. When he finally spoke it was tainted with surprise rather than anger. "You are defectors. Allies of the Shadow turned."

"That is correct."

"What?!" exclaimed Kalub loudly despite his silent pledge to himself to keep quiet. Disloyal these people may have been to the Dark Lord but they were nevertheless tainted by the Shadow, once having been held within its jaws. It was a discomforting thought indeed that such men walked free on the earth. And now he too was in their clutches.

Far from protesting at the fact that he was being held by those once allied to the forces of the Shadow, Legolas held his head high and said, "That is an exceptionally dangerous object you have taken and it rightfully belongs to us. We would like it back, if you will."

"Would you now?" chuckled the man, passing in front of them. "I see no reason to surrender such a valuable tool to you."

"It belongs to us."

"But you let it go."

Aragorn piped up, protesting impatiently, "We did not 'let' it go. It was stolen from us."

"Careless, indeed."

"Perhaps, but you must return it to us," Legolas insisted, pleading up from his prone position knelt on the ground. It felt wrong somehow to be so subservient to this man. Like he was bowing to the Shadow in some way. Still, he swallowed his pride and distaste and stared with honest eyes pleading up at the man.

"Must I now?" asked the man with mocking amusement. "You are not in a good position to be making any demands right now, I think. The Palantir belongs to us now – unless you can convince me of the wisdom of returning it to you."

Reason was a rare quality these days; Legolas found that he respected this strange man for said quality. But what could he say to convince these people to turn over such an immensely important object? The truth? Surely that would not go down well. Getting into further trouble by revealing their true purpose with the Palantir did not seem a particularly good prospect and yet it might prove to be the only way of getting out of this alive and with the Seeing Stone.

However, before Legolas had a chance to articulate his so carefully thought out answer, Aragorn answered in the most authoritative voice Legolas had ever heard him use.

"We are gathering to us an army, those untouched by and opposed to the Dark Lord's rule of Shadow over the lands. We intend to march on Mordor once we have gathered all our might, and the Palantir, so I am told, will play an integral role in our efforts. So, we are going to need it back."

Silence followed. Certainly, the strangely garbed man had not been expecting the truth – for surely none could have formed such an outrageous and, in these times, dangerous lie – and most definitely not from the quiet, timid man. The man glanced across at the two Dwarves holding his fourth prisoner and there was amusement again in his eyes.

"And who, may I ask, are you?" asked the man, turning back to the younger man knelt before him.

Not sparing as much as a glance at his guardian, the younger man replied, "I am Aragorn, soon to be King of Gondor."

Laughter erupted immediately from their captors – all but the small man dressed in crimson. He stared, eyes calculating, fingers thrumming slowly on the polished hilt of his finely curved sword, thinking over quite seriously what he had been told. From the blonde man, their voice of reason, ambassador to their cause, he could have easily accepted such a claim; he practically oozed authority beneath his rough, weatherworn exterior, blue eyes glittered with ancient intelligence and power. But he had not expected it from the quiet, obviously youthful, dark-haired man at his side. And yet there was something in his honest grey eyes as he stared uncomfortably up at his captors. Truth.

Ignoring the hilarity his colleagues found, the man asked, "King? Of Gondor?" Aragorn nodded earnestly. "I have never heard of such a person."

"Just because you haven't heard of it doesn't mean it doesn't exist." Quoting his guardian's words felt comforting somehow and he felt rather than saw Legolas smile beside him.

"And you are the King of Gondor, you say? Why then did you come here? Why not stay in your home with your Stone of Seeing?"

"Well, I have never actually been to Gondor," confessed Aragorn hesitantly. So much for his sudden display of dominance.

"Ah, I see." The man laughed then, although his companions had all fallen silent now. "A king who has never set foot inside his own kingdom."

"We are heading there now," put in Legolas defensively.

This time, the man kept his desire to mock snidely in check and nodded towards the blonde man at Aragorn's side. "And who, King Aragorn, is your friend? A servant perhaps?"

Aragorn would have expected Legolas to bristle at the demeaning label of 'servant' being slapped on him but the Elf stared unflinchingly ahead, not about to be baited or belittled by this man, as was obviously his intention. Surprisingly, Legolas made no move to correct the man's assumption, leaving it to his ward to answer for him, perhaps only further demonstrating his loyalty to his king.

"No. Legolas is my guardian," replied the young man, his voice as hard as his stare.

"An Elvish prince," added Kalub and Legolas' face registered surprise that the tracker who had never shown him any real regard was now defending him to these antagonistic strangers they had encountered. Still, the title burned hot in his heart and he wished the word had never been spoken.

"Prince? Is there any among you who is not royal?" mocked the man with what the others knew to be a smile.

"Yes. I am a tracker."

Legolas chuckled softly at the reply but lowered his eyes to the ground again. He guessed that this man did not like being spoken back to or mocked.

"What is your name?" Aragorn asked boldly, changing the subject.

For a moment, the scarlet-dressed man stared shrewdly at Aragorn, once more weighing up the pros and cons of uttering his true name. In the end, he decided upon the same route Legolas had taken – the sparing truth.

"My name is Jecha."

"And your friends?"

Glancing behind him at the odd collection of Dwarves and Men assembled close by watching this exchange, Jecha corrected rather distastefully, "Colleagues," as if he did not want to be too closely associated with the smaller races. "I do not know all their names, nor do I care to know."

"All right then," Aragorn said quickly, wondering how people could travel together and yet now know each other's names. "What are you going to do with us now?" He did not press for names from the others following this man for he doubted he would get much of a reaction from them. They seemed to trust the cloth-swathed man with this encounter. Besides, there was that more pressing question to address first.

Unfortunately, Jecha's answer was not especially enlightening. "I am undecided."

Not certain whether this boded well or ill, Aragorn looked questioningly at his guardian. Fortunately, Legolas resumed his customary position as leader with ease at being silently prompted by his ward and asked, "May we request that you speed up your decision? We have people waiting for us."

"Grovelling servants waiting for their king?" mocked Jecha.

"Not grovelling but…"

"Very well. My decision will be expedient. In the meantime, in spite of my ever fervent desire to be hospitable to you all, I am afraid that I must restrain you fully once again."

"Really, that won't be necessary. We won't run."

"Ah, yes." Jecha looked across at Grima, still held fast between the two Dwarven guards. "You do indeed have incentive to stay. And yet, I cannot trust you. I am sorry."

Jecha then inclined his head to the three people still stood watchfully behind his captives and blindfolds were replaced over their eyes. They were pulled up to their feet again then led away. Fighting would do them no good so they went without fight or protest. This time, they were not taken far – fifty paces to Legolas' count – before they were once more pushed to their knees, on cold stone now, and left blindfolded. Legolas' sharp hearing could easily pick up the sound of a guard close by, although whether Man or Dwarf, he could not tell.

"Now what?" hissed Aragorn quietly to his guardian.

Turning his head towards the voice, the Elf admitted, "I haven't a clue."

"I know what to do," offered Kalub more loudly than the other two would have liked given that they were being watched. In a more cautious whisper, he explained, "My knots are loose. I'll wager it'll only take an hour or so to work out of them."

"Do not attempt to get yourself free," Legolas warned.

"May I ask why not?"

"Because even if you did get free, you've nowhere to go. You'll only end up getting caught again and they might be less civil with you the second time around."

Irritably, Kalub muttered, "You don't know that for sure."

"Besides, we cannot leave without getting what we came for."

"Well, they aren't going to give it to us, are they? Something so valuable, they're not simply going to hand it over to us, not if they've got any sense that is."

"Be that as it may, we cannot leave the Palantir here with them."

Anger washed over Kalub then and he tugged hard against his ropes in an attempt to get free, a hot-headed attempt destined to fail on the first try. "That snivelling, low-life, waste of air…"

"Control yourself, Kalub," Legolas advised with impossible calm.

Silence followed then as the tracker, an impatient being at the very best of times, took slow, deep breaths to cool his rising temper before it got out of hand and descended into panic. He was by no means alone in his fears. Courteous as their captors appeared to be, Legolas could not vouch for their reason or their sanity. After all, they were in an area obviously occupied by Wild Men. Just because Jecha, if that was in fact his real name, spoke with above average intelligence didn't mean that he wasn't at that very moment planning to brutally slaughter them. On the surface, running did seem the logical course of action and yet they were just as effectively bound by the pull of the Palantir as the ropes tying them up. It was imperative that they retrieved that Stone.

"So," Aragorn whispered after a while, "what do we do now?"

Sighing, Legolas said, "We…we wait."

"I despise waiting," the other man breathed in irritation.

"You could have fooled me," muttered Aragorn under his breath.

OIOI

"I don't know. I swear, I don't," wailed Grima as he sat hunched in a corner up against the rough surface of a rock, hands bound tight in front of him but the gag and blindfold now removed so he could see and speak to his captors.

"You seem to know very little for a spy," observed Jecha dryly, looking down judgementally at the quivering wreck of a man. How he had ever been deemed by the Shadow as a worthy servant was beyond Jecha.

"I have told you already, I am no spy," repeated Grima in a whimper.

"Hm." Jecha paced before the trembling man, thoughtfully chewing over what he had been told. He knew it would not be the truth. This snake-like man would say anything to spare his own life. So he pressed onwards, unwilling to believe the blatant falsities he was being fed. "That is not what your companions have alleged. They say that you are working in league with the Shadow, that your purpose here is a dark one."

Playing dumb happened to be a particular talent of Grima Wormtongue, one he had perfected almost to an art over his many years of working on it, and now it would serve him well in fooling this man. "Work…working for the Shadow? I…I…I would never so such a heinous thing. No. Never."

"No? Then why would you run with this?" Jecha asked calmly, gently laying his hand atop the Palantir, which rested on a rock a safe distance from Grima, covered in its protective cloth.

Upon his attention being drawn to the object, Grima's eyes gleamed, wide with want. Licking his lips, he had to work to move his gaze away from the Palantir and back to Jecha, so he could retain some semblance of honesty. His voice was hesitant; distracted when he answered and he was not sure it was as convincing as he hoped.

"I did not…My only thought was getting rid of it," he explained quietly, hoping his strained voice sounded sincere enough to fool the fiercely intelligent interrogator in front of him.

"Get rid of it? That was your only goal when you stole it?" Jecha asked again for clarification, his tone doubtful, arms crossed over his chest to make himself look even more impressive than he already did in all his finery.

"Why, yes, of course."

"You were doing them a favour," offered Jecha, extending his hand out invitingly towards the slimy man, who'd now sat up on his knees, perhaps unconsciously leaning forward slightly in his desire to appear convincing.

"Exactly right. That thing is pure evil," Grima hissed, nodding his head toward the ball of stone. Renewed now was his hope that he might have a chance to get out of this – and with the Seeing Stone as well.

"Indeed it is."

"Yes. Evil…and terribly dangerous. Treacherous."

"You might say that I would be better off without it," suggested the accented man helpfully.

"You might well say that, yes."

"If I were to…allow you loose…"

"Well, I would take the Stone off your hands, relieve you of the burden." Grima tried hard to keep the enthusiasm, the excitement, out of his voice. Sincerity had admittedly never been his strongest point but then he didn't seem to be doing too badly right then.

"That is generosity indeed." Grima nodded encouragingly, now leaning so far forward that Jecha feared he may topple given that his balance was off due to his bound hands. "Out of interest, where would you take the Seeing Stone when you leave here?"

Grima shrugged, thinking through his answer. "Well, obviously I would destroy it."

"Of course. But how will you destroy it exactly?"

In truth, Grima had not even thought of this particular problem. He couldn't be expected to come up with such details on the spot, not when he was under so much pressure. Suppressing a sigh, Grima finally answered, "Well, I would take it…I would take…"

Jecha raised his hand to call a halt to the man's rambling, knowing fully well that Grima had nothing sensible to say. The teasing, enjoyable though it may have been, had to come to an end at some time. "I understand," he said softly. He paused to glance at the other man, standing guard, dressed almost identically, with sceptical, amused eyes. Moving across the man's sightline, Jecha said, "Unfortunately, my slippery little friend, I cannot release you." Grima's face visibly fell at this and his eyes widened in fear. "I have not spent an hour in your presence and I trust you less than my other guests. That does not bode well for you, snake."

"No…I…Please…"

"Get him out of here," the man commanded and immediately the two Dwarves stepped forward to drag a struggling, grovelling Grima to his feet.

"You cannot do this! Please, you cannot!"

Jecha was unmoved by the pleas, however, and they soon were silenced as Grima was again gagged with a filthy piece of cloth. Turning thoughtfully to his silent, still companion, he asked in his native tongue, so far removed from the Westron he'd been using so far that it would be utterly unrecognisable to everyone else who might be listening in – the virtue of being unique amongst Men, this privacy, "Well, what do you think?"

"Release them," the man replied in a deep voice.

"You are sure?"

"Yes."

Sighing, Jecha shrugged and agreed wearily. "Very well."

To Be Continued…