A Prized Captive

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"Where is he?", Aragorn asked, trying to pierce the darkness behind the flickering flames at the perimeter of the Hill-men's encampment. Dark came early this high in the North in winter and the surrounding peaks of the Ettenmoors kept this part of the valley in a near perpetual dimness.

"We do not know."

"So how do we get him out?"

His brothers exchanged a glance that made Aragorn's stomach tighten uncomfortably: Elladan looked resolute, Elrohir concerned - whatever his brothers had planned it would heavily involve him, and danger. "We thought you would infiltrate the fort and find him. Once we know where they keep him we will be able to get him out," Elladan explained, clearly not particularly fond of his own plan.

Aragorn's eyebrows rose. "You think that will work?"

"Well you do have a suitably-"

"-rascally look," Elrohir supplied, interrupting whatever his twin was about to say. Something even less flattering no doubt.

Aragorn huffed, but before he could retort, Lastor spoke up. "I do not like this either," the blond Mirkwood elf said. "Are we sure there is no other way?"

He was asking Elladan, still acting as if Aragorn wasn't even there, despite the fact that his brothers had insisted on his presence, had sent urgent word to the Rangers, specifically requesting his aid. Aragorn bristled, but his brother wouldn't stand for the perceived slight either.

"If you did not want help rescuing your prince, perhaps you should not have lost him in the first place." Elladan's tone was icy.

Now it was Lastor's turn to bristle, but rather than take offense, the blonde elf looked away, chagrined. He had been Legolas' escort, tasked with protecting the prince of Mirkwood on his way to Rivendell - only to have him abducted by Hill-men from Northern Arnor, as far as Aragorn had been told.

"He insisted he could take care of himself," Lastor muttered through clenched teeth, holding both himself and his prince accountable for the situation they now found themselves in.

Surprisingly, Elladan seemed to commiserate with that. He shook his head, his face suddenly filled with empathy. "Never believe them," he said sagely. "They insist they will be fine, complain that you are overprotective, but turn your back for half a minute -"

"- and they get themselves caught by Hill-men," Lastor nodded emphatically.

"Or Orcs," Elladan agreed.

"Or bitten by spiders."

"And mauled by wargs."

Aragorn couldn't quite believe the sudden companionship that had sprung up between his eldest brother and the guard from Mirkwood, as they continued their exchange, their tone one of longsuffering hardship. Searching out Elrohir's gaze behind the commiserating pair, he found the younger twin had rolled his eyes to the heavens, muttering something - perhaps a prayer to the Valar, asking for patience. Clearly he did not enjoy Elladan's recounting of their misadventures, the older twin painting himself the resigned protector of inept younger siblings.

"Perhaps we should return our attention to freeing Legolas," the younger twin suggested, pointedly interrupting. Elladan merely smiled. Clearly he had enjoyed finding a sympathetic ear to his many plights.

"Yes," Lastor agreed, suddenly serious. He mustered Aragorn properly for the first time - perhaps his discussion with Elladan had convinced him that the elder peredhel's plan might have some merit. "The Hill-men wore their hair pulled back," he said, gesturing at Aragorn's curls. "And their clothes were darker."

Aragorn reached up and pulled his hair back into a low ponytail.

"The darkness will hide the color of your coat," Elladan assessed and Aragorn nodded.

"What is the best way into camp?"

"At the edge of the grove," Elrohir replied, still looking vaguely concerned, but Aragorn had long since come to accept that his brother's worry for his wellbeing did not stem from a lack of trust in his abilities. "There are no men on watch there. The hills rise up in steep slopes beyond the trees, so they likely think an attack from that direction unlikely."

Tightening his sword belt and checking on the knives in his belt and boot, Aragorn gave another nod. "Then that is where I will infiltrate the camp." He turned to go, ready to face the camp of Hill-men and retrieve his friend, but a hand landed on his shoulder, holding him back.

"Only scout, then return to us," Elladan reminded him, before adding: "And, Aragorn, please be careful."

Mimicking Elrohir's earlier eye roll at their brother's overprotectiveness and flashing Elladan a wide smile Aragorn promised to be just that. Then he turned and was off.

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tbc…