Day 21
-o0o-
His hands were numb with the cold, and he rubbed them together, blowing on them in the feeble attempt to generate some warmth. It was cold so close to the Misty Mountains, so far up their foothills. What exactly did Mithrandir want here, Aragorn wondered not for the first time. But getting answers out of the jolly, frustrating wizard was proving to be an exercise in futility.
"I thought we would be heading to Rivendell," he said, not for the first time trying to get Gandalf to explain himself.
"Oh no, no indeed," the wizard replied with a chuckle, as if their chosen course would be obvious. "We are needed elsewhere."
"Elsewhere?"
"Yes, didn't I just say so?"
Aragorn huffed a sigh, trying to cling to the last strands of his patience, which seemed to slip from his increasingly frozen grasp. He tried again.
"Where exactly?"
"You'll see, you'll see," the wizard mumbled an assurance that sounded the slightest bit too uncertain. Did Gandalf even know where they were going? Or why?
And to think that even now Aragorn could be sitting in the Hall of Fire, enjoying a glass of Dorwinion with his brothers and father. Listening to songs and stories in the pleasant warmth of Imladris. Out here the only sound was the howling of the icy wind as it dropped down the Mountains, biting at his hands and face. He shivered.
"It is going to get dark soon."
"Oh yes. That is just as well."
Aragorn shook his head, giving up on trying to get straight answers out of the old wizard. He would tell Aragorn of their destination when they got there and no sooner. If he was really lucky, he might even explain the purpose of bringing all his herbs and spices the whole way as well.
-o0o-
It was a good day, Aragorn concluded as he checked his snares and found two rabbits. He would have a veritable feast this evening. And tomorrow he would reach Rivendell, and would be able to lay his worries for food and weather to rest for a while.
He could practically imagine the soft voices, the warm air on his face, the comfort of his old rooms. And he would lie if he said that he did not look forward to it. He loved living in the wild, traveling all of Middle Earth, keeping a careful watch on Eriador, but it had been too long since he had allowed himself to rest, had let himself be reminded what it was he and the rangers were fighting for.
What was more, he missed his childhood home. The rangers were his kin, but the elves of Rivendell were his family - at least now that Gilraen had moved north with the last of her relatives. Legolas' expected arrival in time for the winter solstice only made returning to Imladris all the more enticing.
Having collected his conies, Aragorn interrupted his pleasant musings about his impending arrival in Rivendell and returned to his makeshift camp - only to find an unexpected visitor. An old man, dressed in grey rags, was warming his hands at a fire Aragorn did not remember lighting - though he had certainly collected the wood that supplied it. Suddenly on guard, Aragorn placed his hand lightly on the hilt of his sword, before stepping carefully, soundlessly nearer.
It was a useless precaution. Despite his silence the man jumped around and turned towards him the moment Aragorn stepped from the trees surrounding the clearance.
"Ah there you are!" he exclaimed, sounding quite put-upon as if he had been made to wait overly long. Aragorn dropped the hand from his sword. It was Gandalf.
"Mithrandir! What brings you here?"
"No time for that now!" the wizard replied, hurrying him forward. "Ah, I see you brought food. Good, good. Now just take your herbs and spices and we can leave - it is time we had a proper midwinter miracle."
"A miracle?" But no matter how often Aragorn asked, the enigmatic wizard would not say more, merely ushering Aragorn along as he collected his belongings and strung the rabbits to his pack. Hopefully with the idea to eat them later.
-o0o-
"Ah", Gandalf suddenly exclaimed, turning his large nose into the wind as if to sniff the air. "Here we are."
'Here', it turned out, was the very edge of the forested slopes of the lower Misty Mountains. Just behind the last straggling trees Aragorn could see the path towards the High Pass rising into the heights. Lonely and untouched the majestic peaks seemed to be staring down on them from behind it. The light of a slim sickle moon was the only illumination, but on the snow covered ground it seemed to set the world alight in a soft magical glow.
"Now, get to preparing that stew, young Aragorn. I am starving."
Aragorn gave an amused snort, by now used to the commanding ways of the wizard. "Is this why you had me bring the herbs and spices then, old friend? So you could have a better stew."
"The spices yes," Gandalf admitted and there was a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. "But not the herbs. You did bring athelas, did you not?"
The mention of the healing plant, so effective against poisons and the dark sorcery of Melkor's creations, made the smile freeze on Aragorn's face. "What are you not telling me, Gandalf?"
But the wizard was no longer paying attention. Instead he had taken to wandering about the small area of his chosen resting spot, looking at the ground and trees critically. "Oh!" he exclaimed, then bent down and seemed to pick up a pinecone from the ground. "Yes, oh yes. You will do quite nicely." And with that he turned to a mighty spruce tree that stood at the edge of their camp. He lifted his stick, speaking quiet words that were too faint for Aragorn to pick up, even if he had understood the ancient language the wizard was speaking.
But whatever the words, the effect was instantaneous - and breathtaking. All along the branches of the spruce its cones started to glow.
The wizard turned back to him, wiping his hands with obvious satisfaction. "They are bound to notice that."
"Who?"
"Hmm?" Gandalf looked at him, "Did I not say? Your brothers and the prince of Mirkwood of course."
-o0o-
tbc…
A/N: Can you tell it's really close to Christmas? hehe... but not to worry, tomorrow we will be back to our regularly scheduled whump