Aiër Chapter Twelve
The horses of Rohan were indeed worthy steeds, galloping with great speed over the thick grasses. Shëanon had to hold tightly to Aragorn, her arms wrapped closely about his waist and her fingers gripping the cloth of his worn tunic as they raced ever closer to the smoke in the distance. While the jostling pace was unkind to her injured bones, she felt hardly any pain as they rode; the wind was cool on her face and in her hair and her mind was focused on Merry and Pippin. Every so often, Aragorn would lean down by the horse's neck to peer down at the trodden earth, presumably scanning the ground for any signs or traces of the Uruk-hai or of the hobbits, though Shëanon could not fathom how he could see anything with the ground falling away so quickly beneath them.
The sun burned low in the west, the dry plains streaked with orange light and long purple shadows by the time they drew near to the place Éomer had spoken of; in front of her, Aragorn pulled on the reins, drawing Hasufel into a trot as the black, smoldering pile became visible on a hilltop ahead. Shëanon swallowed thickly, unconsciously gripping Aragorn more tightly still. Would they have to go digging through the heap of charred, reeking uruk-hai corpses to look for Merry and Pippin's dead bodies? The idea made bile rise in her throat, and she could tell by the rigidity of Aragorn's posture that his thoughts were also grim. The acrid smell of burnt flesh filled her nostrils, making her feel sick, and she could see that one of the Rohirrim had beheaded an enormous orc, impaling the severed head on one of their long spears and driving it into the ground. The uruk's flesh was a sickly grey, all the blood having been drained, spilt on the grass, and the dead mouth was gaping, its eyes open and bulging, a warning to any others who might see it.
"Aragorn?" she asked anxiously as Legolas and Gimli rode up beside them.
"We will find them," he promised, his eyes already scanning the ground around them, but Shëanon understood that while he did not say it, what he really meant was that they would find the hobbits dead or alive. She shuddered again.
"We'll start here," he called to Legolas and Gimli. "Search for any signs of Merry and Pippin. If they yet live, they cannot have gone far."
Shëanon's body was shaking with anxiety as she dismounted and began searching for clues. After Legolas had helped him down from Arod, she saw that Gimli made straight for the smoking remains of the corpses to search for the hobbits while she, Aragorn, and Legolas spread out to look in the grass. She had to turn her back on the dwarf, not able to bear the sight of him in her peripheral vision rummaging through the putrid pile. The grating sound of his axe as he worked was all she could hear as she hunched low and stepped carefully over the earth.
'Please no please no please no,' she thought desperately, dreading the moment that Gimli would call to them. Trying to harden her heart and steel her nerve, she concentrated on what the ground was telling her, but it was confusing and jarred. The grass was trampled and crushed everywhere, hoof prints pressed into the dirt with the marks left by the heavy feet of the orcs. Shëanon's eyes were keen enough to see where the blades of grass had been bent, to see the disturbances of the battle, but she was nowhere near as good as Aragorn at tracking and she didn't know how she would find any indications of what had become of Merry and Pippin amidst all the chaotic prints and bloodstains.
It appeared she would not have to, however, for after several moments of searching, she realized that Gimli was no longer digging. Shëanon froze, crouching in the grass, still facing away from him. Legolas was not far from her, and her stomach seemed to plummet as she realized that he too had stopped and was looking at Gimli with an expression of sorrow and anger. She stood unmoving, staring down at the grass without really seeing it, listening intently while her heart pounded in her chest.
"It's one of their wee belts," she heard the dwarf say in a hushed, grieved voice.
Unable to take it, Shëanon whirled around. She needed to see for herself, for she didn't believe it. It couldn't have been true. And yet, there was no denying that the intricately braided leather that Gimli held before him was of elven make. It was charred and blackened, but still Shëanon could recognize it. It belonged to one of the hobbits.
For one stunned moment, no one spoke. Shëanon watched Aragorn stride forward and take the belt from Gimli's hand, running his fingers over the once beautiful design. Her vision had grown blurry, but she could see when the ranger closed his eyes, his hands falling to hang loosely by his sides.
"Hiro hyn hîdh," Legolas said softly, bowing his head and placing his hand over his heart, "ab 'wanath."
'No,' Shëanon thought, turning aside so that the others would not see her if she began to cry. She was trembling again, violently, but she could not determine if it was from pain or fury. 'No no no no no no…'
She jumped as a terrible scream pierced the air, a cry of fury and defeat, and she turned and watched in horror as Aragorn fell to his knees. His hands were balled into fists, his breathing heavy and his head bowed while Shëanon stood stunned in the grass before him. Never had she seen Aragorn lose control of himself in such a manner; not when Boromir had died, not even when Gandalf had fallen had he shown such a display of emotion, and it frightened her.
"We've failed them," Gimli said softly in the ringing silence following Aragorn's outburst. No one contradicted him, and Shëanon thought she might be sick. She had not forgotten that she had been there with the hobbits. She had been trying to defend them at Amon Hen, and she had failed them. She had not been strong enough, not skilled enough. Boromir had fallen. Now the hobbits were dead as well. Shame and anger together set her blood on fire. Abruptly and violently, she kicked over the spear bearing the uruk-hai head, watching wretchedly as it toppled and fell with a sickly thump, and then suddenly she felt weak and empty. Slowly she turned away from the others and strode a few feet away from them, unsure how to cope with what she was feeling but not wanting her companions to bear witness to whatever she might do. She almost wanted to scream, as Aragorn had; she could feel it building in her chest, but she clamped her jaw and looked down at the bloodstained grass.
"A hobbit lay here," she heard Aragorn murmur behind her. He sighed. "And the other."
Shëanon closed her eyes, not wanting to listen as Aragorn described what may well have been their last moments alive. She could hear him shifting on the ground as he read the subtle signs of the earth.
"They crawled," he said slowly. Shëanon's eyes were burning terribly, but she could not help but listen. "Their hands were bound…"
She heard him rising and rummaging through the grass.
"Their bonds were cut," he said sharply, and Shëanon's entire body tensed as she recognized the hope in his voice. Almost against her will, she looked over at him. He was frantically looking this way and that as he stepped quickly over the trampled battlefield, and she saw that Legolas and Gimli were anxiously walking in his wake.
"They ran over here," he told them. "They were followed." Suddenly, his shoulders went rigid and he began to run. "Their tracks lead away from the battle!" he cried, almost with triumph, and finally Shëanon could stand still no longer. She hurried after him, running swiftly to catch up as Man, Dwarf, and Elf trotted down the gentle slope of the hill. She had just caught up to them, her heart pounding and her veins fraught with adrenaline, scarcely daring to believe there was a chance, when Aragorn drew up short.
"And into Fangorn forest," he finished as they halted beside him. The grass ended abruptly where he stood, and instead a sharp, dense line of tall, gnarled trees loomed before them. Shëanon could see the break in the underbrush where the hobbits had presumably fled into the bushes. The four of them stood at the edge of the wood, panting slightly due to the sudden excitement and gazing anxiously into the dark shadows beneath the leafy eaves. The ominous sound of creaking wood and groaning boughs could be heard even there in the grass, and from within the forest there came a draft of thick, humid air. Shëanon glanced hesitantly at Aragorn, waiting to see what he would do, for he seemed to waver even though it appeared that entering the woods was the only course of action they had.
"What madness drove them in there?" Gimli asked nervously; even while they still stood safely on the plains of Rohan, the dwarf was clearly wary of the forest. Shëanon remembered briefly how distrustful he had been of Lothlórien and was not surprised by his anxiety, for although she knew that he had gone walking in that land with Legolas until his unease was forgotten, the forest of Fangorn seemed to have a chilling energy that even she could feel.
"Would you not choose the forest over death?" she asked rather shakily, still listening to the moving branches but glancing at her companion as she spoke.
"I'd take my chances with the orcs," Gimli muttered, narrowing his eyes.
"And the Rohirrim," Legolas reminded him, though Shëanon saw that he gazed intently into the trees and his tone of voice indicated that his attention was on other matters. She grimaced at the image his words conjured, still scarcely convinced that the hobbits were indeed alive. She could not ever remember feeling so much so quickly, and she was reeling both from the drastic turns of emotion and from the relief and anticipation.
For a long moment, they stood silently before the trees.
"Well I suppose there's nothing else for it," Gimli muttered grudgingly. "We can't leave the hobbits in there to starve."
"We will not forsake them," Aragorn agreed, though his voice was troubled. With one last glance over his shoulder at the still smoking pile of uruk-hai, he turned and trod into the forest. "Come," he called to them.
"What of the horses?" Shëanon asked as she slowly followed him. Two steps into the wood and the air already felt heavy. She looked sadly over to where Hasufel and Arod grazed lazily.
"The horses of Rohan are well trained," Aragorn assured her as they carefully passed beneath rustling leaves. "They will not go far, and we will find them again if we return."
"If," she echoed stiffly, walking close behind him now. There was dense bracken around them, twigs and thorns catching on her clothes and scratching her skin, but Aragorn seemed to walk through it effortlessly, his large body clearing a way for her.
He looked back at her grimly. "If we do not find the hobbits quickly, then it may be our fate to starve as well," he told her bluntly, holding aside a knobby branch that would otherwise have hit her in the face. "If that is the case, the horses will return to Edoras."
"If we starve, then at least we shall starve together," Shëanon responded lightly, though truly she did not like the idea of dying of hunger, and she liked the idea of Merry and Pippin perishing alone in the woods even less. She tried to comfort herself with the fact that Aragorn was a ranger, the most skilled tracker in Middle-Earth, and that they had Legolas's keen eyes with them, but she still did not like their chances of finding the two tiny hobbits in the vast, dark forest. She thought fleetingly of Maedhros seeking the sons of Dior in the dark wood, and knew that that story's end was not happy. It seemed rather likely that their efforts would reap similar results. However, she noted also that no one was discussing that whoever had pursued the hobbits may have eventually caught them, and she was not keen on considering the implications of such a scenario.
"Aye, that we will," Gimli agreed steadfastly behind her.
"No one is going to starve," Legolas calmly interjected. He walked at the back of the group, behind Gimli, but after ploughing into the forest for a while he came up beside Shëanon. The thick wall of brambles that had made it so easy for Aragorn to see the crashing trail of the hobbits abruptly fell away, leaving instead only tall, wide trees that grew close together out of a mossy, springy floor. Shëanon thought absurdly that the bracken was there on purpose to keep out strangers—a wall of defense. Indeed it seemed to her that the trees wanted no company.
Aragorn had to kneel at that point, searching for prints, and Shëanon could not help but shudder. The air seemed to carry whispers past her ears, whispers that she could not quite hear and that alarmed her, for there was no wind to cause them. She felt a sensation similar to the one she had experienced in Lórien when the wardens had been watching them from the branches, but she knew there were no Galadhrim in Fangorn. Legolas beside her kept turning to gaze at things that she could not see, which both comforted and unsettled her. It seemed clear that she was not imagining things, but it caused her unease to think that there might be things happening around them that her senses could not detect.
"This way," Aragorn murmured, straightening and striding deeper into the murky forest. The sunlight scarcely penetrated the thick canopy overhead, and Shëanon knew that it would be pitch black when night fell. It had been dusk when they'd left the horses, and the sun must have been setting quickly, for the forest grew dimmer with each passing minute.
"The air's so close in here," Gimli observed as they carefully followed the hobbits' trail. While Shëanon had to agree that it was indeed a bit stuffy amidst the looming branches, she thought it nothing compared to the dead, unnatural stillness of Moria.
"Legolas," Aragorn asked as they wound their way between tree trunks, "what do your people say about Fangorn Forest?"
Shëanon cast a wary look first at Aragorn, who she knew would not have asked such a question if he were not uneasy, and then at Legolas, waiting to see what he would say. His regard was turned to the north, and he did not speak for a moment, although she knew that he had heard Aragorn's question. He seemed to be considering, or perhaps listening, gazing through the deepening shadows.
"I have heard no evil spoken of this forest, save Lord Celeborn's warning to avoid it. But this forest is old... Very old. Full of memory... And anger," he said thoughtfully, his voice steady and calm. He turned at last to look at his companions. "It is said that here walked the Onodrim ere the firstborn awoke, but that tale is as old almost as the forest itself. I have not heard tell of any reason to fear this place in this age of the world, but perhaps the Galadhrim have heard tidings that have not reached Rhovanion, or perhaps the Lady foresaw something in her mirror."
"Angry trees seem reason enough to me to stay clear of a forest," Gimli pointed out with a noticeable strain of nerves in his voice. He whipped around at the sound of every groaning branch, each rustle of leaves.
Legolas only shook his head, apparently distracted once more.
"If you do not harm the trees, you have nothing to fear from them," he assured the dwarf, though Gimli still appeared jittery. Shëanon however was not so much afraid as she was intrigued. Although she was discomfited by the lack of light and took Lord Celeborn's supposed warning seriously, she was not entirely ill at ease amidst the trees. She could feel the anger that Legolas had described; the forest felt charged with it, and it raised goosebumps along her arms. Whatever hostility there was, however, did not seem to be for her. Rather, she almost thought the forest was glad they were there, and she felt strangely soothed to be in such an ancient place. She could feel the long ages of the world in Fangorn. She realized that it was why the air was so heavy; she could perceive it in her every breath in the same way that she saw the vast wisdom in the eyes of her father and Glorfindel and Galadriel.
"Onodrim," she murmured cautiously, squinting through the bracken. "There are Ents here?"
"Once there were," Legolas replied, his blue eyes meeting hers briefly before he turned to gaze ahead of them once more. "Whether there are yet, I cannot say."
Shëanon bit her lip and considered that, but she posed no more questions and not even Gimli made any comment, though she was sure that the dwarf was not pleased by the idea of tree-people walking about. They continued for some time until it was too dark for Aragorn to see the tracks, and he announced with a sigh that they would have to make camp.
"I would continue for yet a while longer," he said when even Shëanon had to strain to see in the dimness, "but the trail was hard to follow even with some light."
"Could we not light a fire?" Gimli suggested, lifting a dry twig from the ground as he spoke and holding it close to his face for inspection. "We could make torches and go through the night."
Aragorn shook his head at once. "It would be unwise to light a fire in this forest," he said gravely, and the words had hardly left his mouth when there came from around them a terrible moaning of the wood, loud in the hushed, muted space. The sound was unmistakably threatening, as though every plant around them hissed and shouted at the idea of being burned. Shëanon looked up into the eaves directly overhead. Was it her imagination, or were the thick branches straining towards them? She heard a dull thump and saw that Gimli had hastily dropped his stick and was holding his hands up in the air.
"Never mind," he said firmly. "No fires here. Absolutely not."
"Let us hope that the hobbits have had no fires," Legolas murmured. He was walking in a circle around them as wide as the trees would permit, peering into the deep blackness. "Or that at least they have felled no trees."
"Is that likely?" Shea asked anxiously, remembering the hobbits' enthusiasm to have fires in the past. They would likely not have had any supplies with them, no food to cook or pots to cook in, but would they have burned wood even just to chase away the shadows of the night? Surely not, if they had indeed been chased. But if they had, Shëanon thought nervously, what would have happened to them? She did not know what the trees were capable of.
"Merry and Pippin carried no axes for cutting wood," Aragorn reassured her as he began kicking aside rocks and sticks and setting his belongings down, "and they would not light a fire with an orc on their tail. Once already have they learned not to alert their enemies to their whereabouts."
"Wish they'd alert us to their whereabouts," Gimli grumbled as one by one they unbuckled their packs and knelt on the mossy earth. Legolas unwrapped a square of lembas and broke off small pieces for each of them, passing out the food as the darkness around them became complete. Shëanon noticed that the four of them were sitting quite close together, and wondered if at least Aragorn and Gimli were perturbed by being unable to see. Unlike in the mines, when the dark had been accompanied by unsettling quiet, the forest seemed all the louder at night. She could hear the sound of scurrying animals and dripping water, but mostly the darkness was punctuated by the creaking of wood, the groaning of timber and the breezeless movement of many leaves.
Aragorn and Gimli were speaking quietly about what to do once they found the hobbits, but Shëanon was not listening. For one, she was still trying quite hard not to assume that Merry and Pippin were alive, for she did not think she could bear to suffer the grief again. Each time it got worse, and what was more, she could not block out the sound of the wood. It seemed to be calling to her, though she assured herself that it was simply her nerves. Distracted, she lifted her waterskin to her lips, but had only taken a couple sips when she felt the last few drops trickle into her mouth. She looked down at the empty bottle in dismay. When had she drunk all her water? She could not remember and was just beginning to worry about when she could fill it again when she realized that the sound of running water was in her ears.
"I can hear a stream," she murmured to the others, seeing their dark forms in the night as she rose to her feet. "And I am out of water. I'll be right back."
A hand closed around her wrist.
"I do not want us to separate," Aragorn said firmly, his grip preventing her from going anywhere. She could not quite see his expression in the darkness, but his voice was both serious and cautious. "I have water left if you are thirsty. We will get more when it is light."
"You cannot have much more than I had," Shëanon answered steadily, trying to distinguish his features before peering through the shadows in the direction from whence she could hear the steady rush of water over stones. "And the stream does not sound far."
"She is right," Legolas quietly observed, much to her surprise. "It is not two hundred paces from here. I will go with her, and we will fill your flasks as well."
Gracefully he rose and held out his hand so that Gimli could pass him his nearly empty canteen, but Shëanon could still feel Aragorn's hesitation. His large hand still held her wrist, and to her agitation she could sense that he was quickly deliberating on whether or not he would allow her to leave his sight. Finally, however, he slowly released her and held out his waterskin for her to take.
"Be quick," he said lowly. "Something tells me we are not alone in this forest."
Taken aback by his ominous words, Shëanon nodded solemnly and turned from him. She did not need to be told twice; she was no fonder than Aragorn of the idea of separation, and she was privately glad that she would not be alone. Legolas was waiting patiently for her at the edge of their tiny clearing, gesturing to her to go ahead of him as she approached, but they had hardly taken a step into the trees before Aragorn's voice sounded in the darkness once more.
"Legolas," he called suddenly, and Shëanon could practically feel the ranger's eyes boring past her and into his friend as the elf turned back to look at him. The two seemed to lock eyes for a moment as she waited for Aragorn to speak, but he said not a word. She thought maybe he was hesitating, or perhaps deliberating, but she could not tell and she shifted anxiously on her feet, wanting to fetch the water and be done with it and wishing she could see Aragorn's face.
"Be quick," he repeated at last, and Legolas bowed his head before ushering her in front of him and away from their companions.
Shëanon could see well enough not to walk headlong into a tree, but that was about it. She had to tread carefully, wary of tripping over roots or rocks or fallen branches, relying on her ears to follow the sound of the stream through the wood. The trees grew even closer together than they had at the edge of the wood, so that traveling in a straight line was hardly possible. For several moments, the two of them walked in an amicable silence, neither speaking as they pressed deeper into the forest.
"Aragorn seems worried," she observed eventually, keeping her voice hushed as she spoke. If Aragorn was right and there was indeed some danger lurking in the woods, then she did not want to call attention to them with her voice.
"Yes," Legolas agreed steadily from behind her. Out of habit, Shëanon turned to look at him, although she could scarcely see him in the dark. He did not elaborate.
"Are you worried?" she pressed, rather disturbed by Aragorn's reluctance and the obvious contrast between it and the calmness of the elf who walked behind her. She hadn't been entirely uneasy before when night had first fallen, but she had never completely relaxed after the worrisome events of the day. She was uncomfortable in the darkness, but unlike Gimli, she was not so afraid of the forest and had not been terribly concerned for their safety until Aragorn had made it seem as though she should expect uruk-hai to ambush them on their way to fetch the water. His words had unsettled her, and she wanted to know how Legolas had taken them.
"Am I worried that we will meet trouble between here and the river and back?" Legolas asked quietly. "Nay, aiër, I am not. But I believe Aragorn is right; there are others wandering the forest this night, and I cannot say whether it is the hobbits or other, more sinister creatures."
The pause that followed was heavy with consideration. Their boots made hardly any sound on the soft ground as they went and Shëanon pondered over his words. Just who else could be in the forest with them? She did not know, but it discomfited her. Not Men, surely? They feared Fangorn, did they not? And orcs would surely not choose to lurk in the trees. She realized with a jolt that she had left her bow back with Aragorn and Gimli, and she was glad that Legolas had his.
"It seemed like Aragorn meant to say something different just now, when he called you back," she cautiously probed, feeling like there was some secret that he was keeping from her but unable to guess what it could be. It was clear to her that the words that Aragorn had spoken to Legolas as they'd left were not the words that he'd been truly thinking, and she could not help but suspect that he'd changed his mind at the last minute because of her.
"I imagine he meant to tell me to guard your life unto my last breath, if necessary," Legolas responded.
Startled, Shëanon stopped walking.
"What?" she asked, taken aback.
"Or something of that nature," Legolas finished. He had spoken so lightly and immediately that she could not tell if he was kidding or not, and she felt him pause beside her in the shadows.
"He was not going to say that," she said at once, straining to see his face. She did not even know how to react to such a statement; she felt a bizarre combination of pleasure and offense.
"Perhaps not," he agreed, and this time she finally recognized the note of humor in his voice, much subtler than her own sarcastic tendencies. If it had been anyone else, she might have rolled her eyes, but Legolas was usually so serious that she was unsure how to respond. Perhaps it was because she was so tense, unable to see, worried about the hobbits and wary of danger in the forest, unlike Legolas, who she had noticed earlier seemed completely at ease in the woods.
"Definitely not," Shëanon corrected after a moment, turning once more to walk.
"You sound quite sure, aiër," Legolas said, only now his voice had become utterly serious. "Do you forget that but a few days past you were almost taken by the enemy? I can assure you that Aragorn has not forgotten. He would ever have forgiven himself if something had happened to you. It is no wonder that he desires to keep you in his sight."
At these words she stiffened. The forest, which before had seemed so loud in the night—groaning and shifting branches filling the air—suddenly seemed quiet and still. She had been trying very hard not to dwell on it, but once more she remembered how it had been—lifted into the air, unable to break free despite her desperate struggling, the cruel hands of the uruk-hai biting into her flesh, their horrid voices cackling in her ear, knowing that she was doomed then for pain and torture and death. She stopped herself before she could imagine what might have happened if Legolas had not rescued her.
"I have not yet thanked you for that," she whispered after a moment of hesitation. She had meant to tell him before how thankful she was, but the words had gotten stuck in her throat each time she'd tried. No one else had seemed keen on reliving the events of that day, and Shëanon had not wanted to bring it up, either. She gripped the waterskins more tightly as she pressed through the woods. "You saved me from a terrible fate."
To her consternation, her words hung in the dense air for several moments. She kept walking, wondering anxiously why Legolas said nothing as she pushed leaves and vines out of her way. To her surprise, she walked around a thick tree trunk and found the stream before her feet, though she had almost forgotten that she was supposed to be looking for it. Indeed the steady sound of the trickling water had all but faded from her ears. She inched forward, not entirely able to see the water but rather feeling that she stood on the bank.
"You need not thank me for that."
His voice was solemn and very close behind her, and Shëanon turned away from the river to face him once more. He was only a dark shape before her, but she could feel the warmth of his body and his breath stirring the still air. In another time and place, she might have retreated, but she was unsure of exactly how far she stood from the stream and she did not want to fall in.
"Of course I do," she said quietly. "You saved my life. I am in your debt."
"Debt?" he repeated flatly. Somehow, Shëanon knew that he was frowning at her, and she blushed to hear the displeasure in his voice. She bowed her head.
"If you had not been there, I could be in that pile of corpses on the hillside right now," she breathed. Her stomach roiled as she pictured her charred body among those of the uruk-hai. "Or in some dungeon in Isengard, praying for death."
"You do not know that," he said at once.
"Yes, I do."
"Aiër—"
"I would not have gotten away, Legolas," she told him, her voice tight with emotion and her hands beginning to shake. The longer she spoke, the more worked up she became, finally speaking aloud the thoughts that had been tormenting her for several days. "I know that I could not have. There were too many of them—of the uruk-hai. And you did not see the look in their eyes. They could not wait to shed my blood. The only reason I held them off for as long as I did was because they were pushing each other out of the way to be the one to grab me. The two that held me were laughing! Laughing, Legolas! What if—"
"Daro," Legolas said sharply. It was a command, spoken so abruptly and firmly that she stopped speaking. For one startled moment, she thought that she had angered him with what she'd said, but then she realized that he was as disturbed as she was by the image her words conjured. For some reason, this knowledge called to her mind the way he'd reacted in the day, how he'd stepped in front of her and threatened Éomer because of the way the man had looked at her. She blushed scarlet in the darkness, unsure what to say, and not even the creaking of the forest or the running of the stream could successfully fill the silence that followed.
"I am sorry," she said at last.
"You must not think such things, aiër," he told her, but in a gentler tone. "You were not taken."
"I only meant…" She took a breath, finding it once again difficult to express herself to him. Certainly she would not say that she had watched two companions perish already, bearing the knowledge that she could have prevented their deaths, that she had not been able to defend Merry and Pippin and that she understood the weight of such responsibility, the implications of determining the fate of another. Her heart gave a painful throb. "It is no small matter to me. I know what could have happened. That is all."
"Do you think that your life is a small matter to me? You are mistaken, aiër. I would shoot down ten thousand uruk-hai to save your life and never expect any payment. And you are not in my debt," he said lowly.
Shëanon said nothing. The gravity of his words chilled her. She could not remember him ever speaking to her in such a manner; he spoke with such conviction. If his elven voice were not so clear and fair, she might even have said he sounded harsh, and yet the proclamation seemed heavy… with sincerity, with emotion, with some hidden meaning… Shëanon could not tell, but she was suddenly glad that she could not see his eyes. She could feel them boring into her, and she did not think she could have taken his gaze.
"If Aragorn had been the one to kill those creatures, would you feel indebted to him?" Legolas asked quietly.
"No," she admitted hesitantly, frowning. She knew at once that she would not, but she could not say why it was different.
"What if it had been Gimli?"
"I don't know," she whispered, uncertain, trying to picture the situation in her mind. Legolas waited while she frantically tried to make sense of her thoughts and emotions. "I—no," she said at last, frowning deeper still.
"Then surely you owe no debt to me either," he said steadily.
Shëanon fidgeted with the cap of her waterskin, nervously running her thumb along the edge of the metal and lowering her gaze even though she could not see him anyways. The image she had in her mind of his strong features was disconcerting enough, and she knew that he was watching her. Neither of them spoke, and she was relieved to think that they were dropping the subject. She wished that she had not brought it up to begin with, as the direction their conversation had taken had left her feeling both vulnerable and confused.
"Where did you go?" Legolas asked at last. "When the battle broke out, we could not find you."
Shëanon felt a wave of guilt wash over her. What with Boromir's death, Frodo's leaving with Sam, and their pursuit of Merry and Pippin, she had not really considered the effect her actions might have had when she slipped into the trees that day. Surely the rest of the company had been worried when they eventually realized that she, Frodo, and Boromir were all gone. And when they had come under attack, it must have been a horrible situation. She imagined that Aragorn would have worried for her; it was clear then that Legolas had too.
"I saw that Frodo was missing," she answered softly. It was not untrue. She had not spoken to anyone about what had she'd seen at Amon Hen, but she'd privately decided not to tell anyone about what Boromir had done. "I was worried, so I went to look for him."
"Did you not think to tell anyone?"
"I know that I should have," she said shamefully, but she could tell that Legolas was dissatisfied by her answer.
Suddenly, he took a step closer to her. It was a subtle movement, hardly perceptible, and Shëanon did not see it in the darkness, but she could feel that all of a sudden he stood directly before her.
"You were screaming, Shëanon," he said. It was not a question; he spoke plainly, observing with certainty what they both knew was true, but while his voice was even and calm, she knew instinctively that he expected an explanation. "As if you were being tortured."
At last, there it was. For the first time since entering the forest, Shëanon felt frightened. She was not frightened for the safety of her companions or herself, but rather by the topic that Legolas had finally brought up. She'd felt that they'd been skirting around it since that night before they'd gone up Caradhras, but she hadn't expected such dangerous conversation to come up just then. They'd just gone to fill water bottles! They were supposed to go right back to Aragorn and Gimli, and yet suddenly she felt that she was laid bare in the pitch blackness. Her eyes strained to see his face; she was sure she looked like a frightened deer. Even before the Ring had been found, she had discussed her foresight with no one save Aragorn and Lord Elrond. Not even to Arwen or her brothers, though they all knew about it. She could not bring herself to explain to Legolas. It felt too private, too ridiculous… too shameful. Ridiculous because the very idea that she of all people would be gifted with foresight and granted visions from the Valar was preposterous. And shameful because the Enemy himself, or whatever piece of him existed in the Ring, had been in her mind. She stood before Legolas, frozen. He was clearly waiting for her to speak, probably scanning her face, for she knew that he could see, but she did not know what to say.
"You were screaming as you did in Rivendell, the night before the council," Legolas observed when she neither confirmed nor denied what he'd said. She wondered if he could feel the heat that burned her face and neck, he was standing so close to her. Her every breath smelled of his skin, his closeness making her even more nervous. She wavered, almost speaking, the words on the tip of her tongue, but she could not do it. She could not tell him.
"Aragorn will be starting to worry," she stammered at last. "He told us to be quick."
Legolas said nothing, and, fearing that he would not so easily let her off the hook, she turned to fill the waterskins in the river. In the darkness however, she could not see the root that arched up out of the dirt. She tripped, dropping both her flask and Aragorn's, and would have fallen face-first into the stream had it not been for Legolas's reflexes. He caught her swiftly, first catching her arm to stop her fall and then helping her regain her footing with an arm around her waist, stopping her momentum easily. She felt his arm come about her as she scrambled to stand up straight, still half expecting to feel the cold of the stream engulf her, but he held her steady until she got her balance again. For one shocked moment, Shëanon did not move. Her hands rested on Legolas's chest, his at the small of her back. She tensed, not breathing, but she could feel his breath on her face.
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly. To his credit, his voice betrayed no indication that he might be laughing at her, but it was enough to break her out of her momentary paralysis. As though his fingers suddenly burned her through her clothes, she jerked away from him. Thankfully, she did not fall this time, but she was already flushed with embarrassment from having tripped once.
"I'm fine," she muttered, hastily dropping to her knees and feeling around on the damp ground for the waterskins. Her fingers encountered only sticks and leaves and moss, her mortification escalating with each passing moment until she felt Legolas crouch down beside her.
"Here," he said gently as he took her hands, pressing the empty containers into them. It bothered her that he had found them so easily, and her face burned with the knowledge that he had been able to see exactly where they were as she had fumbled for them in the dirt.
She mumbled a tense thank you as she turned once again back to the stream, kneeling on the edge and reaching forward until she felt the cool water run over her fingers. Carefully, she held the mouth of her bottle into the flow, and beside her she knew that Legolas was filling both his and Gimli's waterskins. The stream did not appear to be deep, but the water was fast-moving and clean against her skin.
"Why did you want to fetch water when you can barely see?" he asked her while she screwed the cap back onto her flask.
"We half-breeds must learn to survive despite our disadvantages," she muttered sarcastically before she could stop herself, a kneejerk reaction to hear him speak of her inferiority. Even before she'd finished speaking, she wanted to slap herself. She didn't know what had possessed her to say such a thing, but she felt defensive and jittery in the wake of her clumsiness and their previous conversation, and he'd struck a nerve. As a result she had voiced the first bitter thought that came to mind, and she felt the impact of her words the second they left her mouth.
"Never call yourself that again," Legolas said coldly, after a tense pause.
"Well, that is why I cannot see," Shëanon huffed, standing. She was beyond agitated at that point. She felt like her heart was throbbing; her eyes were burning and her limbs were trembling and she wanted to return to the others and pretend to go to sleep, if only to flee from what had become a disastrous situation. She felt that she said one wrong thing after another, and so each word she spoke left her more anxious than the last.
Legolas stood as well.
"I know why you cannot see, aiër," he said soberly. "It was to your fear of being unable to see that I was referring."
Shëanon sighed. She had half a mind to deflect his comment, to deny that she had ever been afraid, but her sudden, unfounded hostility seemed to seep out of her with her breath, and she did not forget the way that Legolas had held her against his body in the deep blackness of Dwarrowdelf. He had acknowledged it in Lothlórien. It was too late for lies. Chastened, her shoulders slumped and she took a deep breath, willing herself to lower her guard.
"I still do not like it," she conceded softly. "But the darkness of Fangorn feels… different from that of Moria. I know that I should be wary of this place, but I am not. I cannot say why. Perhaps I am imagining it, but…" She hesitated, glancing at his silhouette before continuing. "But the trees seem glad that we are here."
"You are not imagining it," Legolas said, sounding surprised himself. She sensed him shifting beside her and could just see when he looked up into the branches. "The trees speak to each other. Can you not hear them?"
Shëanon stared at him. A chill ran down her back as she recalled the whispers she'd thought she'd heard, the murmurs on the wind that she could not quite understand. Her discomfort forgotten, she too looked up towards the leaves.
"I can hear their voices, but not their words," she confided after a moment. "They—They are really speaking to each other?"
"Yes," he answered somberly. "To each other and to us."
The wood around them wailed again, the branches swaying to and fro.
"What do they say?" she asked him in wonder. She knew that all living things had a spirit, but she had never heard of trees actually communicating to one another with words.
"They know that we are elves," Legolas said quietly as the trees creaked and the leaves stirred. "They heard our voices. They say that we are welcome here."
Her head still tilted back, Shëanon turned slowly in a circle, listening to the sounds of the forest and vainly attempting to make sense of them. Everything seemed loud in the dark, down to the slightest swish of a twig.
"Give me your hand," Legolas suddenly murmured. Silently, she set down the waterskins and did as he bid, holding her hand out towards him. She felt his fingers curl around her wrist and he drew her towards him once more. She gazed towards his face, her stomach fluttering anxiously, and was just about to ask what he was doing when he lifted her arm and pressed her palm against the hard, rough bark of the closest tree. At once, she could feel the energy of its life beneath her fingers, able to sense its soul and its feelings. But once she was touching the sturdy trunk, the strange, creaking groaning of the wood seemed to have more meaning. The wind-like whispers, the energy of the humid air seemed to become some wordless language. Hello, the tree was saying to her, ivy hanging from its branches suddenly brushing near her shoulder. Hello, child of elves.
In astonishment, Shëanon looked up at Legolas. She could sense that he was watching her, awaiting her reaction, and his hand still covered hers on the tree.
"Can you hear it?" he asked quietly, close by her ear, and she nodded, entranced. "Then answer, aiër."
Hesitating only for a moment, Shëanon turned back to the tree.
"Hello," she breathed.
At once, the leaves rustled and the wood wailed.
She speaks to me, the tree exclaimed. The elf-child speaks to me! Many long ages has it been since an elf-maiden has spoken to me.
It was one of the strangest experiences of her life. She could equate it only to the way she'd sensed the will of the mallorn trees of Lothlórien, but that had been nowhere near as intense as having a tree actually talk to her.
"How is this possible?" she whispered to Legolas.
"The elves began it," he said lowly. "Waking up the trees, teaching them to speak… And this forest is older than any other yet in Middle-Earth. These trees it seems are awake once more, and they remember."
In awe Shëanon stood still, listening to the tree's voice. It resonated in her bones, old as the earth, and full of wisdom. After a moment, however, she found that the sensation began to fade, for Legolas's closeness began to overpower the words of the tree. She was acutely aware of his body, his broad chest against her shoulder and his hand still atop hers against the trunk. The warmth of his palm seemed to rush all the way up the length of her arm, sending shivers down her spine, and she could feel the beat of his heart where his skin touched hers. Unbidden, memories of their nights together in Lothlórien came to her mind, memories of lying cradled in his strong arms with his voice filling her dreams, and she looked up at him. His face was so close to hers that even in the dark, she could distinguish his features. His eyes seemed to gleam without a light to illuminate them, though the blue was black in the night and she could feel his breath brush her face, his nose inches from hers, and his lips—
Abruptly, Shëanon withdrew her hand and stepped back, her heart in her throat. Her eyes were wide with horror for what she had been thinking, what she had almost done, and though she could feel Legolas looking at her in surprise, she knew not what to say. She stood still as a statue, stunned, still only inches away from him in the darkness while his gaze bore into her. She thought that he might have raised his eyebrows, and she grimaced internally, floundering for words as the trees continued to creak and sway.
"Aiër?" he asked finally, the tone of his voice cutting straight into her chest.
She said nothing, able only to swallow thickly and stare uncertainly towards him through the darkness. She knew that Legolas had sensed the sudden change in her, had read it in the stiffness of her body and the unevenness of her breath, and they stood regarding each other silently for a long moment, with Legolas apparently considering her behavior and Shëanon praying desperately that he had not understood the cause of it.
"We should return," he said at last. "We have been gone for too long."
She did not need to be told twice, bending hastily to snatch up the waterskins and dash back through the trees. She had expected to feel relief to hear those words, and indeed she did as she numbly pushed aside shivering leaves with her shaking fingers, but almost more powerful was the wave of disappointment that crashed over her. She quickened her pace then, rushing back to Aragorn and Gimli, heedless of the fact that she could not see and was in danger of falling again. Legolas was right behind her, following at her heels as she darted around tree trunks and beneath low branches twice as quickly as she had on their way to the stream, but if he thought her fast stride odd, he said nothing of it. In fact, neither of them said anything at all, and that suited her just fine. Their journey back to their companions was tense and rushed, and Shëanon's mind was too tumultuous for conversation, especially a conversation with him. She was so distracted that she didn't even notice that they'd reached the others until she almost walked headlong into Aragorn. He caught her by her shoulders a second before they collided, and, dazed, she realized that he must have risen to go looking for them.
"Ah! See?" she heard Gimli exclaim as she brushed around Aragorn and moved to sit. "I told you they'd be right back."
"That was no quick errand," Aragorn acknowledged, and not without displeasure, as she mutely handed him his waterskin.
"We stopped to talk to the trees," she muttered to him weakly when she felt his stern gaze on the side of her face, unwilling to divulge further details. Legolas was taking his place once more beside her, so she was looking with determination anywhere but towards him.
"Talking to the trees?" Gimli chuckled nervously. "A one-sided conversation that'd be, hmm?"
"Not at all. The trees had much to say," Legolas informed him, and Shëanon could hardly believe how calm he sounded while she thought her heart would beat out of her chest. The more rational part assured her that she should feel relieved that he seemed so untroubled; surely then he had not realized—but she could not help but feel disheartened at the same time, perhaps even offended—what if he knew, and was unfazed?
"I am going to sleep," she whispered dully to Aragorn, turning towards him and curling up on her side on the ground, which managed to be uncomfortable despite the soft moss. She could tell that Aragorn was surprised, for she almost always waited for him to lie down before doing so herself, but she could not sit there and talk when all she could think about was—
Stop this, she commanded herself, squeezing her eyes shut and tugging her cloak almost over her face. He is the Prince of Mirkwood. He is thousands of years old. You are an orphaned half-human child who can't even fetch water without almost toppling into the stream. You can't you can't you can't.
Still, the scene kept playing over and over in her mind. She mulled over every single sentence he'd spoken to her that night, analyzing every word while still trying to convince herself that she had not wanted him to close the distance between them and press his lips against hers. The very idea made her cringe, her brain shying away from such an strange notion even while her heart leapt with some wild desire, a deep humming in her limbs that spoke of a truth she knew she'd been trying not to believe for many weeks. She was restless, unable to fall asleep even after she heard Gimli announce that he would take the watch and Aragorn and Legolas retired on either side of her. She almost wished that she could roll over and lean her head against his shoulder, to feel the beating of his heart beneath her ear and feel the warmth of his hand caress her, but she blushed in the darkness and inched closer to Aragorn, away from him, wondering when exactly she had lost her mind and trying to focus on Merry and Pippin and their quest until she fell into a fitful sleep.
Translations:
Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath- May they find peace after death.
Daro- Stop
A/N: Hello hello! How is everyone? Better question, how much do you hate me right now? Lol. This chapter was originally going to end at a different spot, but then a certain scene got kind of long and so the chapter was already 20 pages and I felt like I had to cut it off. So if you feel like not much happened... That's why! The rest is almost ready to be posted (I swear it's almost done!) but I figured I'd post this one now since I've kept you guys waiting so long. I've been super busy but I've been trying really hard to make this story a priority and I have virtually nothing else going on this week so I will be doing A LOT of writing. Thank you all for being so patient and thank you so much for reading and for reviewing! I hope you're all enjoying the story still. I personally am going crazy because there are so many scenes that I'm dying to write but it's not time yet. Also I'm sorry that it's been 40+ pages since the breaking of the fellowship and they've only gotten from Amon Hen to Fangorn haha but you know me and my details. Obviously if you're familiar with LOTR (which I'm pretty sure most of you guys are haha) you have a pretty good idea about what's coming in the next chapter but heads up because there may or may not be a surprise or two O.O
Anyways, thanks again. Your support is amazing and I am so appreciative :') Let me know what you think! Shea's character kind of wigged out just then WHOOPS but hey she had a long day. It's 3 AM where I am so I'm going to go to sleep for a few hours and then wake up to write some more. Hopefully this A/N was coherent and not too ridiculous. :)