Chapter 3
Things are going to rather quickly heat up here- by the end of the chapter, there is a definite promise of action. And yes, there is a bit of a cliffhanger at the end. I'm sorry. I just can't help myself :)
I take full responsibility for any idiotic mistakes when it comes to the bits about tracking in this chapter. I know literally nothing about it, aside from watching Bear Grylls on the TV sometimes (if you don't know who that is, he is a British ex-SAS guy who now does a bunch of tv shows where they drop him and a small camera crew in some horrible wilderness, with very little equipment, and he has to get out of there, and show you how to survive in such places). I am assuming that because elves are a lot older and have better senses, especially eyesight, they must be much better at tracking than men could be.
Anyway, have a new chapter!
Disclaimer: see Chapter 1
0-o-0-o-0
They rode out early in the morning, the horses clattering down the streets. People peered out of their windows as they rode by, and any soldiers on the street, whether on duty or not, snapped to attention and saluted. Faramir would at least try to smile back at every single one of them, and at the few children who waved shyly at him from the side of the street.
Belhadron pushed his horse onwards slightly, coming up right next to Legolas. They were following Faramir and his captain, Beregond, to whom they had been introduced this morning. Beregond had wasted no time gathering the Rangers and having them on their way, enough provision packed both for their day in Ithilien and for Faramir as he headed out to his house, currently being built in Emyn Armen. Belhadron liked him already.
Belhadron nudged his horse closer to Legolas, a smile coming across his face as Faramir waved back at a group of orphans running down the side of the road. "They love him," he murmured to Legolas. "They love Estel as well, but they love him."
"They do," said Legolas softly. "Aragorn they love because he saved them, because he is the Elessar and their King. But Faramir fought beside them for all his life, and he loves them just as much." The hint of a smile came across his face, but it was tinged with sadness. "People wept when they thought he was going to die in the war. And then people wept when they learnt he was going to live."
Belhadron smiled. He liked Faramir. In him he could see the same fierce protectiveness that he himself had over Legolas, and he was glad to find Estel's second a learned man, rather than simply a soldier.
Belhadron had never had much time to read, to relax and study something that wasn't to do with a way to improve their defensive strategies during a battle, or accounts of spiders and orcs from the south, to plan their next patrols. There was still so much to do back home, still the last remnants of darkness to drive from their woods, and they would never be completely free again. The forests had been under the sway of the shadow for too long for that to ever happen.
Legolas reached out and nudged Belhadron, jolting him back to the present. "You were thinking too much again," he said with a smile. "You need to stop that."
Belhadron chuckled. "My apologies," he said with a smile. "I will just stop thinking, then."
Legolas laughed, and they rode out of the city together, through the great gates and onto the Pelennor.
Instantly all of the horses' ears pricked, their nostrils flaring at the sight of the wide expanse in front of them. Arod actually bounced, his head held high, and Legolas laughed at his fiery stallion.
Ahead of them Faramir turned to look back. "We'll head straight through Osgiliath," he said. "They know to keep the main road clear."
Legolas nodded, and then all of the horses, as if on cue, bunched their muscles and surged forwards together, beginning to canter down the worn path through the grass towards the city of Osgiliath.
On either side of the wide grassy stretch, farmland was beginning to be ploughed, farmers planting crops in the field. The great field was breaking up as they got further away from the city, the scars in the earth being ploughed over and covered.
The field closer to the city had been left, as a memorial of sorts of those who had died defending the walls of Minas Tirith. The ground where the Nazgul had been burnt was still blackened, and nobody would go near it, let alone plough over it.
But slowly the wreckage, the carnage remaining had been cleared, and things were returning to something better than normal.
They reached Osgiliath quickly, their mounts eating up the ground beneath their hooves. The company, Faramir, Beregond, Legolas and Belhadron and the eight or so Rangers, Mablung included, accompanying the elves into Ithilien slowed, their horse's hooves striking stone as they came to the causeway running through Osgiliath.
The city was still mostly ruins, crumbled stone and fallen buildings. Some of them were still scorched from the battles fought within the city, and the smaller side streets were still stained. Yet some of the building were new, and there were soldiers-turned-builders across the ruins. The bridge spanning the Anduin was new and gleaming white. The city was healing.
And again, men saluted Faramir as they rode past, rising from where they were working and putting down their tools, if only for a brief moment, to stand to attention for the man they loved. A smile came across Legolas' face as he watched. Aragorn was in very good hands, with Faramir as his Steward.
The city ended almost abruptly, the buildings petering out into rubble, petering out into overgrown rubble and then finally the forests of Ithilien. Belhadron breathed in deeply.
"The air is sweet," he murmured to Legolas. "I haven't been in a place like this..."
"For far too many years," Legolas finished off. And he was right. Even if parts of Ithilien were scarred and damaged, it was still far more wholesome than either of them ever remembered their own home to be.
Mirkwood, whilst it had still had that name, had been home, and they would never had considered not fighting for it, but both Legolas and Belhadron had never really known a true time of peace within the forest. Always there had been at the very least a lingering shadow, and at the worst times the forest had been so very dark. Neither of them had really been in a wood that had seen anything other than outright war for centuries.
"I will leave you here," said Faramir, reining in his horse. He nodded towards the dirt road heading off to their left. "That road leads to Emyn Armen. Enjoy the forest, mellyn-nin."
Legolas smiled at the Sindarin and nodded farewell as Faramir peeled off the main road. A small cohort of soldiers followed him, headed by Beregond, the Rangers remaining with Legolas and Belhadron. Mablung turned to the two elves.
"We shall head into the forest here," he said. "It is sparse enough to allow the horses to move through easily. I would watch the footing, though. There are far too many rabbits around here, and we have lost horses to them before."
Legolas nodded, and turned to Belhadron. Having seen the slightly blank face of his friend out of the corner of his eye, he translated into Silvan. Belhadron nodded, and said something back in the same tongue.
Mablung shifted slightly in the saddle. He knew a little Sindarin, enough to probably continue a halting conversation, but nowhere near enough to converse with an elf. It had been a useful thing for passing the time when, in the years before the War, they were stuck out in Ithilien with not a lot to do, if things were for once quiet. But the jilted language he could speak would only look ugly next to the flowing ease with which both Legolas and Belhadron spoke.
His men were still a little wary of the two elves, and Mablung got the feeling that it was Belhadron in particular. Legolas they were a little more familiar with, having known at least who he was, and seeing him in the city before. But Belhadron they knew nothing about, and Mablung did have to admit there was something a little more… feral about the dark-haired elf. Feral was definitely the wrong word, but Mablung did get the feeling that Belhadron would be able to go from witty and laughing to a deadly rage in an instant, and he supposed that was a little unnerving, that slight hint of unpredictability.
"Careful," he said to one of the younger Rangers as his horse made a snatch for a deep green bush. "Our horses may be smart, but they can't tell what is poisonous."
"There are many plants of poison in Ithilien?" asked Belhadron, the Westron slightly stilted on his tongue.
"Not many," said Mablung, turning in his saddle. "At least, not many that we have discovered. This plant here is one of the worst. We found out when one of the horses ate from a bush and then died less than an hour later."
Belhadron touched his horse's neck, and it stopped obediently. He reached out and pulled a berry, a light yellow colour, from the bush, and rolled it between his fingers. He looked over at Legolas.
"Is this…?" and then switched into Silvan, as Mablung and the Rangers watched. Belhadron threw the berry to Legolas, who looked at it, and then nodded.
"What is it?" asked Mablung, turning his horse around in curiosity.
"We have this plant in Eryn Lasgalen," said Legolas, flicking the berry into the ground. "It is usually poisonous, but we found that the juice of the berries can slow other poisons, if used sparingly. It has saved lives before."
Mablung looked surprised. "We didn't know that," he said, eyeing the bush again. "Thank you."
Belhadron smiled slightly. "We have to go together if the idea will work," he said. "We will tell you as much as we know."
Legolas broke in. "I would avoid using the plant until your healers can look at it," he said. "We know very small amounts work for elves, but we have no idea how men are affected by it."
Mablung nodded, and slowly the two elves began to talk to the Rangers, some Rangers trying out their rusty Sindarin, whilst Belhadron began to speak to Mablung, modifying his Westron as he listened to the older Ranger.
Legolas, riding behind his friend, smiled as a younger Ranger, called over by Mablung, greeted Belhadron in halting Sindarin. It took the dark-haired elf a few moments, but then a slight smile came across his face, and he replied in Westron.
It would be slow, that was for certain. Despite having an Elven Queen, Legolas suspected that elves were still just tales to many folk. And it would take a while for those ideas to be replaced in people's minds, but as Legolas watched Mablung laugh at something Belhadron said, he was hopeful. Belhadron certainly looked a little happier than even back home. Maybe Ithilien could be a new start for them all.
0-o-0-o-0
It was quiet. They rode through the trees, their horses finding a path through the bushes and grasses that seemed to grow in abundance here in Ithilien. Belhadron liked it. There was a natural feel to it that Eryn Lasgalen, whilst it had been Mirkwood, had lost. Or rather, had had taken from it.
It was too quiet. Legolas noticed it first, and his eyes began darting around the forest, searching out shadows that maybe weren't completely natural. Belhadron, naturally watching Legolas, saw his friend's hesitation and his eyes flicked around the forest. It was too quiet.
"Mablung," said Legolas, his voice lower than normal. "Something's wrong."
Mablung stopped his horse and, without questioning Legolas, listened intently to the forest. Some of the younger Rangers didn't notice anything, but Belhadron could see the understanding dawn in those old enough to realise what the quiet probably meant.
The silence was almost familiar to him, the amount of times he had heard, or rather not heard, the same thing when Eryn Lasgalen had been Mirkwood. And though the trees were strange, and unused to elves, still both Belhadron and Legolas could feel the change in the woods, the disruption emanating from somewhere. Belhadron found his hand going to the hilt of his sword, and underneath him his stallion tensed, sensing the change in mood.
A whistle came from nearby, and Mablung turned to see another Ranger approaching on foot, leading his horse. He was moving quickly, nearly dragging his horse behind him, until he just dropped the reins and jogged the last few paces to Mablung's horse. "There are prints nearby," he murmured, loud enough for everyone to hear, but soft enough to hopefully keep their location hidden.
"Where?" asked Mablung softly. "How many?"
"I…I don't know," said the ranger, his face worried. "They're to the left, many feet passing this way not so long ago."
Legolas pushed his horse forwards. "Which way are they going?" he asked softly. Belhadron followed the blond elf, halting his horse just behind and to the right of Legolas.
"Northwest," replied the Ranger.
Mablung's eyes narrowed. "Osgiliath?" he asked, his voice suddenly sharp and brittle.
The Ranger's eyes widened. "Aye," he said. "Maybe."
Mablung cursed under his breath and swiftly dismounted from his horse. "This must be the men who have been lurking around the area," he said, as Legolas and Belhadron dismounted and followed him. "They have managed to get their hands on orcish weapons, but we have had no fatalities from their incursions into Ithilien yet."
"Can you track them to their camps?" asked Legolas as they stepped towards where the tracks supposedly were, following the other Ranger.
Mablung shook his head. "We do not have enough men who know Ithilien well enough to do so, and they are smart. We find remains of camps, but they are always moving and, like I said, there are not enough to hunt them down."
They followed the Ranger around a dense thicket, and it was then that they saw the tracks. Mablung cursed, crouching down to look at them.
Legolas crouched down next to him. "There are many," he said softly, his brow drawn in concern.
"Over forty," said Belhadron suddenly. Mablung, who had almost forgotten the dark-haired elf who was so quiet, sometimes just a shadow at Legolas' side, managed to stop himself from starting.
"How can you tell?" he asked softly, his eyes studying the worn earth for some clues. He was a good tracker- maybe not the best Gondor had, but then Damrod had died in the war, and he had been one of the next best, excluding Faramir. And he could not see how Belhadron knew.
Belhadron stepped over the tracks, and Mablung almost said something until he saw how the elf's feet left no imprints on the ground. On the other side, Belhadron crouched down, absent-mindedly tucking a stray strand of dark hair that had escaped his warrior braids away behind a pointed ear.
"Look here," he said softly, switching into Silvan for ease. Legolas quietly translated into Westron for the other men. "The men are disorganized, true, and they do not march remotely in time, but still only so many people can fit abreast on a path this wide. Judging by the size of the prints, and what you have said, there would be about three men abreast at one time. Now look at the overlay of the prints. The men aren't walking in time, so it is not as if their prints will be in the same place. There are traces of the first few footfalls, but the amount that they are covered suggests many have walked over them since." Belhadron's slender hand traced what seemed like nothing to Mablung.
"The leader walked here," he said, his brow furrowed. "He was the first to pass, and he was walking faster than the rest of the men, as if he had somewhere to be." A finger briefly touched the dirt. "Some men had their weapons out. There is dried blood, very small flakes of it, here and there, so someone was wiping their weapons down in readiness. It could of course be from their clothes or wounds, but I would say weapons."
"Why?" asked Mablung, thoroughly lost as to how Belhadron was reading this.
Belhadron smiled slightly. "I cannot be sure, but the flakes look like it contains residue of the poison sometimes used on orc blades. It is darker than normal dried blood."
Mablung almost asked how he knew that, and then thought better of it. These elves had been fighting since before his great-grandfather was born. They had had far more experience than he would ever have.
Belhadron, finished looking at the tracks, rocked back on his heels, and shot a brief smile at Legolas. Legolas chuckled in return. He turned to Mablung.
"One of the best trackers we had in Mirkwood," he said. "Though he would never admit it. Far better than I could ever be."
Belhadron swiftly grinned. "You lacked the patience, mellon-nin."
Legolas nodded. He supposed it was true. For some reason, he could remain absolutely still in a tree, an arrow knocked, but when it came to tracking he could not stay patient enough to read all the signs.
He had been surprised when he had first found out how good at tracking Belhadron was. Legolas knew all too well the anger than sometimes simmered beneath his friend's cheerful façade, and he had been surprised to know that Belhadron could muster the patience to track. Of course, he had then seen his friend track, and realised that the patience was not, in fact, truly patience, but a different form of anger, a rage that burnt slow and cold and, as Legolas knew all too well, could focus your mind like nothing else.
Mablung ran a hand through his hair. "Readying weapons, you said?" he asked. Belhadron nodded, and Mablung gritted his teeth. "We will have to follow this," he said. "We cannot risk an attack on Osgiliath, not with civilians in the city right now. If we can, we will cut them off and take them by surprise. There are only twelve or so of us, but we are the better fighters." He smiled grimly.
"Faramir is in Emyn Armen, is he not?" asked Legolas. At Mablung's nod, he continued. "Send someone to warn him. At the least, he can ready any soldiers in Osgiliath, and he could send some people to us. Even if we are the better fighters, the more soldiers the better."
Mablung nodded, and beckoned for the younger Ranger, the one who had first discovered the tracks, to come over. "Ride for Osgiliath, for where Lord Faramir will be on the eastern edge," he told him. "Tell him what has happened, that we are tracking the men in the direction of Osgiliath. If he has his guard with him, ask him to send them to us, on the most direct line from here to Osgiliath. If they do not meet the men, then they may meet us. Stay clear of these tracks and the men."
The Ranger nodded. "Aye, captain," he said. He turned to grab the reins of his horse. Vaulting on, he tugged on the reins and spun the horse around. The stallion picked up a canter and started to head north, weaving in and out of the trees.
Mablung sighed slightly as he watched the Ranger go. "We must follow the tracks," he said, and reached for his horse. Legolas and Belhadron also mounted, and then without a word, the small party of Rangers rode forwards, towards Osgiliath.
0-o-0-o-0
The tracks wove through the forests of Ithilien, around the dense thickets or denser copses of trees, but still they didn't waver, heading northwest and straight for Osgiliath. In his worry, Mablung pushed them faster, the Rangers now cantering slowly one after the other.
They would have gone faster, but to go too fast would mean that Belhadron could not study the tracks as well as they needed him to. Already he was at the front of the company, Legolas riding next to him. The blond elf had moved his horse as close to Belhadron's stallion as he possibly could, and was currently leaning across, one hand under the quiver strap across Belhadron's chest. The dark haired elf was leant forwards over the side of his horse, only Legolas' hand keeping him on his stallion's back.
"Anything?" asked Legolas softly, and Belhadron straightened a little, Legolas helping to pull him up.
"They started moving faster a few minutes back," he said. "But at this speed I can't be sure how fast." He grimaced, and leant back down again. Legolas' hand moved and gripped his shoulder as Belhadron studied the tracks again.
Legolas didn't even have to think as Belhadron's horse sped up slightly. Arod adjusted and he remained with his hand on his friend's shoulder. They had done this before, the two of them racing through what was then Mirkwood at the head of a company of elves, Belhadron leaning over his horse's shoulder to study orc tracks, and Legolas there keeping him on his horse, watching the forest around them.
Sometimes it had only been the two of them, tracking orcs through the forest in a desperate bid to get to the patrol before them. Sometimes there hadn't even been horses- the two of them running side by side, Belhadron's hand on the hilt of his sword and his head bowed, following the tracks. Legolas' hand would still be on his shoulder though. On a few occasions, when Legolas had not been paying enough attention, Belhadron had run into a tree before.
A thicket came up in front of them and Legolas clicked his tongue, nudging his right heel into Arod's flank. Arod responded and shifted sideways, pushing Belhadron's stallion sideways and around the thicket as well. Mablung came behind them, the rest of the Rangers following.
Suddenly Belhadron straightened up. "They're close," he said. Touching his horse's neck, his stallion slowed and Legolas slowed with him.
"How close are they?" asked Mablung, his voice low. He dismounted as the two elves vaulted gracefully from their horses, and came to look over Belhadron's shoulder.
Belhadron moved forwards a few steps and knelt. His brow was furrowed. "Less than a furlong," he said. "Very close." He straightened up. "We should continue on foot." His shared glance with Legolas did not go amiss, and Mablung noticed it.
"It would be quicker if we continued on horseback," he said. "Unless the tracks are becoming too indistinct to read from your stallion, my Lord."
"Just Belhadron," replied the dark-haired elf slightly impatiently. He slipped into Sindarin again, but thankfully Mablung's Elvish was good enough to understand him. "But we would both prefer to continue on foot. They are close enough, I think, that it will not matter too much, and that Ranger should have reached Faramir by now, so Osgiliath will be warned."
Legolas opened his mouth to speak. "Our patrol was once ambushed when we were riding through the forest. Orcs leapt out and knocked us off our steeds, and then they had the advantage. We should continue on foot." He didn't continue with the rest of the story, but the tone of his voice was enough to let Mablung realise that it had not ended well.
Mablung nodded, and signalled for the rest of the Rangers to dismount. "Quickly," he said softly, pitching his voice so it carried to his men and no further. "We need to move."
Hand were on weapons, swords loosened in sheaths as the men moved swiftly forwards, jogging over the packed dirt. Belhadron was in front again, studying the ground as he ran. One hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Legolas' bow was in his hand.
Legolas suddenly held up his hand. "Listen," he said. "It's quiet again. Too quiet."
Belhadron glanced ahead. "How near is Osgiliath?" he asked.
"A few leagues," said Mablung.
"As far as I can see, the tracks continue straight," said Legolas.
"I don't know," said Belhadron. "They may tail east slightly…" He trailed off, and took a few steps down the track.
"Go," said Legolas. "Go on ahead and see what you can find. We will follow, make sure we are missing nothing." Belhadron glanced at him, looking sceptical at first, but then nodded, and began to run slowly down the track, his head turning left and right as he read the ground in front of him.
"Let's go," said Mablung. "We're close now." He slid his sword from his sheath, and the men moved onwards, Legolas and Mablung at the front. Legolas' long, ornate bow was held tightly in his hand. The other was curled loosely at his side, and was just waiting to reach for an arrow.
His eyes were on Belhadron up ahead, as the dark-haired elf tracked from side to side, occasionally stopping and crouching, before straightening up and continuing on again. Legolas was only about twenty yards behind him, yet he still didn't like it. He could reach Belhadron in about four seconds if he really wanted to, but that could be a very long time sometimes.
Up ahead, suddenly Belhadron halted. Legolas nearly sprinted to him then and there, but at that moment a sound made its way to him, the crashing of undergrowth, the stamping of feet. It grew louder and louder.
And then the shapes burst from the trees.
To Be Continued...
Duh duh DUH! And, to be super mean, I checked the start of the next chapter, and it jumps to Faramir. Mwahaha. And it's not coming until next Tuesday.
Hope everyone has a nice weekend- I'm taking my horse out to an event, and hopefully won't fall off and break my nose this time :) As always, reviews are very welcome.