-The Curse of Angmar-

By: Cassia and Siobhan

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Rating: PG-13

 

Feedback:
cassia_a@hotmail.com and siobhancl2@aol.com

Spoilers:
Maybe little ones for previous stories in our series and other LOTR stuff possibly.

 

Disclaimer: 
We own nothing of Middle Earth or any of Tolkien’s worlds or characters. Everything recognizable belongs to JRR Tolkien; anything else belongs to us. We have no permission to use these characters and are receiving no money for this story. This story was written for enjoyment only.  Please do not use our original characters or situations without asking first.  Thank you. 

 

 

Summary:
Aragorn and Legolas wanted only to rest and heal after their harrowing experiences in the south.  But fate has other plans.  Evil has always haunted the Barrow Downs near the Shire, but now strange things have begun happening and many are saying that the wights have awoken to haunt the countryside.  Aragorn and Legolas, along with Aragorn’s brothers and fellow rangers, must ascertain the truth of what is going on, but will what they find be more than they can deal with? 

 

Series:
Yes, part of the Mellon Chronicles Universe. :o)

Other stories in the series are:
Captive of Darkness
Hope
Father’s Love
Never Alone
First Meetings
Change of Heart, Change of Mind
Exile
Return
Mistaken Identity
Vilya
Black Breath
Sickness
The Seventh Stone
Betrayal
Legolas’ No Good, Rotten Day
Priceless Treasure
The Stars of Harad
Dark Visions
Traitor
&
Escape from Mordor

Also part of this series and already written, but chronologically taking place after this story:

And So The End

 

This story will make more sense if you have read those first, although if you want to be adventurous and give it a whirl by itself, go right ahead!

 

 

Warnings:
The usual. 
Some character owies,
general reader health warnings, etc.

 

 

Language Note: 
We use two different forms of the elvish word for ‘brother’ in this story.  Muindor which simply means brother, and Gwador which implies a sworn-associates as-close-as-brothers kind of relationship not bound by actual familial ties. 

 

 

Additional Disclaimers:

Aragorn + Elrond + Elladan + Elrohir = family.  :o)
By now you all know our take on this I am sure - in our world birth mother and father *both* died and the elves were Estel’s only family.

 

Just so you know, our ideas on the Barrow Downs, wights, etc. may be different than yours, although we have tried to stick as closely to the book interpretation as possible.  However there isn’t much there, leaving a lot left to be filled in by the imagination, so if you disagree, please accept that this is simply our version of it and don’t flame us for it.  Thanks!

We have quite a large cast of secondary characters in this story (although I begin to think that the Twins are almost a little above normal supporting cast status by now) and even a rather prominent OC or two, which is mildly unusual for our stories.  However, we have still kept the focus more or less on Aragorn and Legolas, since of course they are our favorites and the point of this whole series!  So don’t’ worry.  :o) 
 

      Any spelling, date, cannon or character errors are the fault of the authors only and are completely by accident.  We are not an expert on Middle Earth and have never claimed to be.  So please forgive any omissions that you might find.  Likewise, please forgive the inevitable typos, spelling errors, etc. and enjoy the story anyway.
ALSO we do occasionally have names turn up that start with a J.  I realize that there are few to none of those in LOTR but hey, consider it a translation fluke, ‘kay?  It’s not really a big deal. :o) 

And on to the story! :o)

 

 

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-Curse of Angmar-

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART ONE*~

 

 

 

Their footsteps could barely be heard as they crept through the large house nestled deep in the beautiful valley of Imladris.  Sneaking up the elegant stairway and quietly entering the room at the end of the hallway, Lord Elrond’s twin sons silently approached the bed that held their younger human brother, Estel.

 

The ranger had returned the previous day and the twins had not yet had the opportunity to see him as they had only just returned from a quick trip through the mountains themselves.

 

The human lay on his stomach, his face turned to the far wall.  The sheets fell in folds off the bed, wrapped about his waist, exposing the top of his sleeping breeches.  One arm lay under his head beneath the pillows that cushioned him and the other dangled off the mattress. 

 

The man had filled out since they had last seen him.  He had grown up.  His shoulders and back were broad and muscular and his facial hair, albeit scraggly in comparison to others, had grown as well.  Shoulder length wavy tangles of dark hair, coated with the warm glow of early morning light, fell across his face as he breathed deeply in sleep.

 

Feigned sleep.

 

His senses, having been battle-heightened over the many years of war he had seen, were alert and although the man had not completely woken, every fiber in his body tensed, bringing his awareness slowly to the surface. 

 

Elladan barely knelt on the bed; it gave way easily beneath him with a soft squeak.  The elf leaned towards the ranger, a devilish smile on his face; it had been a long time since he had been able to surprise his youngest brother.

 

Instantly awake and on the defensive, Estel twisted in the bed sheets, recoiling from the presence he had felt.  Automatically his hand wrapped around the hilt of the elven blade he had placed beneath his pillow out of habit sometime in the pre-dawn after his father had left his room.  He slept better with it near at hand lately and putting it there had been an almost unconscious reflex. 

 

Bringing the weapon up with lightning fast speed, Estel pressed the sharp edge of the knife against his perceived attacker’s throat.  His left hand wrapped in the dark hair of the elf that knelt next to him, holding Elladan still against the steel razor and pressing forward threateningly.

 

The elf froze; breathing carefully as the blade scraped dangerously against his jugular.  His eyes wide, Elladan slowly raised his hands, taking note that the human who held him so precariously was not quite awake or aware yet.  His younger brother’s attack had simply been an automatic response to a perceived threat.  It was an action that neither twin was prepared for however; the ranger had never raised his weapons against them before save in jest or to spar... this was neither.

 

“Estel?”  Elladan spoke his name softly, causing Aragorn to blink several times as he took in his surroundings.  He was not on the banks of Pelargir nor the blood-soaked plains of South Gondor, the attacker before him was not a Haradrim or Corsair, it was an elf with oddly familiar eyes...

 

“Elladan?”

 

Aragorn loosened his hold at once, releasing his brother and allowing Elladan to press him back against the pillows while Elrohir slipped the blade from the human’s hand.  Aragorn breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and holding his breath as his heart pounded wildly in his chest, trying to absorb the adrenaline that had shot through his system.

 

The ranger sighed softly and stared up into the blue eyes that scrutinized him.  Estel didn’t move when Elladan pinned him to the bed, his hands on the younger human’s shoulders as he leaned over the man.  His nearly disastrous reaction to his elven brother frightened Aragorn; he hadn’t heard the twins enter his room and had forgotten that he had slipped his knife under his pillow before he had fallen completely asleep.  The reaction surprised him as much as it did the twins and so he simply lay on the bed, catching his breath.  If he had pressed against the blade even a little too hard... Aragorn shuddered slightly.  The wars he had lived through these past years had marked him too much; he had a great deal to unlearn.

 

It had been many years since the twins had seen their brother and the visible changes in the human both intrigued them and saddened them as well.  The emotions were foreign and strange.  Aragorn knew there would need to be a time of adjustment.  Things weren’t as they always had been and Elladan’s keen senses picked that up immediately.

 

“We heard you had returned.  You have... changed, little brother.”  Elladan whispered softly.  It wasn’t just his outward appearance or actions; they could see the age in his eyes, more so even than his years.  Because elves aged so slowly after reaching maturity, it was almost as if their little brother had grown up to be older than them.  It was strange to the twins, unsettling. 

 

Changed.  An understatement, Aragorn thought sarcastically, but he simply nodded.  There was nothing else to be said, it was true.  He tried to explain himself, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.  I wasn’t awake... I...  It was an automatic response; I thought you were an enemy.”

 

Gently placing the sharp elven blade on the dresser, Elrohir sat on the edge of the bed, watching his brothers.  Deep in his heart he knew Estel was different... older, and he could feel the weight the human carried in his own heart.  He smiled softly as the ranger’s silver eyes turned to gaze briefly at the dark haired elf.  Although things had changed, he for one was very glad that Estel had returned to them, the years since they had last seen the ranger had been long indeed, even in a timeless place such as Rivendell.  After all, life was full of changes; they didn’t have to be bad.  Estel would always be their little brother in their hearts, no matter what happened. 

 

When Aragorn glanced back at his older brother he noticed the frown that creased Elladan’s forehead.  The elf was staring at the scar that marred the man’s lip.  Self-consciously Estel covered the blemish with the fingers of his right hand, dropping his gaze from the twins.  His slight beard and mustache concealed the worst of the scar but it still bothered him.

 

Elrohir caught the ranger’s wrist and gently pulled Aragorn’s hand away.

 

“What happened?”  He asked softly.

 

Moving out of his brother’s grip Estel scooted back against the pillows behind him and sat up in the bed, drawing his knees up to his chest and fingering the mark.

 

“It was a war wound, from a fight with a Haradrim.  They are fierce warriors.”  He glanced at Elladan as he spoke, “But he did not return home and I did.”

 

Elladan nodded, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Well you know, they say that women find battle scars very attractive.”  The elf looked quickly at his twin who matched his smile.

 

Shaking his head, Aragorn rolled his eyes, “Leave it to you to find something positive about it.”  He scooted over as Elladan seated himself on the edge of the bed across from Elrohir.

 

“Tell us of it?”  Elrohir asked cautiously.

 

“Of what?”

 

“The war, your time with men, all of it.”  Elladan finished the thought his twin had started, eager to hear how their brother had fared.  Little word had been sent through the years as carriers often fell prey to the ravages of war, bandits in the hills, or worse.

 

“Not yet.”  Aragorn glanced from one twin to the other, “Please, let me leave it for a while. I only wish to be Estel.  There are some things I *need* to forget.”  Deep weariness marked the gaze he laid on the elves and they immediately withdrew from their questioning.

 

Gently touching Estel’s shoulder, Elrohir apologized, “We meant no harm Estel.  If it is painful it is best left until you are ready.”

 

Aragorn smiled softly, his hands busy worrying the edges of the blanket that he had pulled up to his chest, a habit he had never broken himself of, “It is... I am weary of it.  The world men of has taught me many things, some good, but much of which I wish to forget.”

 

“I see it has also taught you to sleep with your blade under your pillow.”  Elladan eyed the weapon that rested on the nightstand, his tone taunting as he deftly changed the subject, not wishing to make his younger brother any more uncomfortable than they already had.

 

“Oh that.” Estel laughed quietly, “Yes, I got used to sleeping with that in my hand.  I slipped it under my pillow out of habit last night after father left me.  Please forgive me Elladan, that is one routine I will need to break.”

 

“*Before* you kill someone would be nice.”  Elrohir chided playfully.

 

“Oh and you think you didn’t deserve it!?”  Aragorn glanced from one twin to the other, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion, trying to hide his smile.  “You think I don’t know that you were trying to scare me?”  He laughed as the twins affected an air of shocked innocence.  “Probably had in mind to drag me out of bed and play one of your tricks on me didn’t you now?  Well they won’t work anymore.”

 

Elladan sobered immediately.  He knew that Estel was teasing them but he could also feel that the human spoke the truth.  Aragorn’s age of innocence was gone and the little brother that they had known had finally, truly grown up.  The older twin looked quickly away, trying to hide the sadness his thoughts had suddenly evoked.  He knew it was natural, but could not help the bitter-sweet feelings of one who has watched someone grow from infancy. 

 

Aragorn however was not fooled and leaned forward, tipping Elladan’s chin up, forcing the elf to look at him.  It was a tiny action that the elven twins had done a thousand times with their younger brother and now the roles were reversed.  “What is it?  What have I said?”

 

“You are not the young Estel that we remember.” Elrohir whispered softly, his voice uncertain as he spoke the words.  They knew.  They knew their brother was human, they knew with their heads it would be this way, but their hearts still had trouble grasping the fact that their young Estel had become a man, a battle-weary man whose cares hung heavy upon him. 

 

Aragorn glanced from the youngest twin to Elladan who was watching him again carefully.  “He is right. You are not,” The elder twin concurred quietly.  It was not bad that Aragorn had become an adult, they were proud of the man he had become... but it was hard to let go of the boy. 

 

“Oh.” Estel silently mouthed the one syllable word and leaned back against the headboard as realization sunk in.  His elven brothers were having difficulty with the fact that Aragorn had finally grown up.  The ranger reached his left hand behind his back pushing a pillow into a more comfortable position.  As his fingers touched the soft, down-filled bag, a thought brushed his mind and he gripped the cushion, tensing.

 

“You think I am so changed that you fear you no longer recognize the person in this body?”  He asked quietly, voicing the elves’ unspoken fears.

 

“Yes, perhaps.”  Elrohir answered hesitantly, glancing at Elladan for confirmation.  The brothers had always been honest with one another; it would do no good for them to hide their thoughts now. 

 

Nodding his head Aragorn dropped his gaze, throwing his brothers off just enough so that when he slipped the pillow he held from behind his back, Elladan was unprepared for the soft blow.

 

The elf fell off the side of the bed; the pillow following him as Aragorn landed the cushion squarely in his older brother’s face.  Gripping the edge of the bed Estel looked over the side of the mattress, watching as the elf pulled the pillow off of his head and stared, open-mouthed, at the human.

 

“Hmm... well, guess if I can still rub your face in a pillow I haven’t changed that much, have I?”  The human laughed from his vantage point before being pulled back from the edge by Elrohir.  The twin had taken hold of Aragorn’s ankle and jerked the ranger back, pressing a large bed pillow over the human’s head and burying his face in the blankets with a shout of mirth.

 

By the time Lord Elrond entered the room, followed by Legolas, no one could remember who had actually started the pillow fight, but the broken cases and the snowfall of downy feathers that rained down on the room’s occupants incriminated them all.

 

When Elrond cleared his throat, Elladan and Elrohir quickly sat up, releasing their captive who bolted upright in the middle of the bed, coughing and spitting out a mouthful of feathers.  Fluffy white twigs of down stuck out from the dark, disheveled hair at odd angles and the bright silver eyes smiled as the ranger extricated himself from the pile of pillows and empty cases that he had been buried under.

 

Looking slowly around the room Elrond shook his head, his gaze landing lastly on his youngest son, sitting in the middle of the bed, flanked by the elven twins who were trying desperately to look innocent - a tactic that very nearly always failed.

 

“So Estel, I see you have lost the pillow fight again?”  The elven lord entered the room, his tone imperious, his eyes full of laughter.  He fought to keep contained the smile that slipped slowly across his face.

 

“I am afraid so Ada.” Aragorn glanced between his brothers, “They were picking on me again.”  The human’s eyes took on a pitiable gaze, begging the elf lord to intervene.

 

When the twins started sputtering in self-defense and pointing at the ranger, Elrond could contain his laughter no longer.  “I see some things have not changed.”

 

“I am afraid Lord Elrond,” Legolas spoke up from his place in the doorway, “that with Estel around, some things never will.”

 

“Good.” Elrohir whispered, “I like it that way.”  He smiled as Aragorn glanced at him.

 

The ranger pulled his brother into a tight hug, “Me too.” He whispered into the elf’s ear before shoving the twin playfully away from him.

 

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

~~~~~~~~
They gave me a life that’s not so easy to live
And then they sent me on my way
I left my loving, forgot my dreams
I lost them along the way.

Those little things you say
When words mean so much
You never back down
When they all shy away
You always listen to me.

 

--Three Doors Down
~~~~~~~~

 

 

It had been nearly two weeks since Aragorn had returned and the rest that his weary heart had begged for was just only now beginning to take hold.  Padding barefooted across the wood floor of Elrond’s study room Aragorn quietly made his way to the picture window that stood open, facing the rift that Rivendell had been built into.  It appeared that no one was awake yet in the house save for Celboril and the kitchen staff.

 

Morning was just breathing her sigh of warmth in the valley.  The far side of the cleft that held Imladris was aflame with the first touches of the sun. 

 

Estel stood silently on the balcony that overlooked the river far below.  His unfocused eyes did not notice as the sun crept over the valley and painted her black and grey palette with brilliant colors of light.  His thoughts were flung far beyond the safety of the rift that sheltered him.  He shivered slightly but the chill that ran up his spine had nothing to do with the still cool morning air.

 

Elrond had been awake when the ranger stirred that morning and followed quietly in the man’s wake.  The elf lord had fully expected that there was much weighing on Estel’s heart that he was either unable or unwilling to share.  A shadow edged the ranger’s eyes and his lightheartedness had not returned fully.  Elrond stood in the shadows of the room behind his son watching the young human.  He could feel the confusion that warred inside the man, mixed with a sorrow that he did not understand.  They had spoken of the dark shadows of Mordor and all that had happened there... but truly, that had touched Legolas’ soul deeper than Estel’s.  There was something different that troubled his youngest son.

 

When Aragorn sighed deeply and laid his head down on his arms crossed atop the balustrade the elf lord moved from the shadows and stepped silently up behind the ranger, gently placing his hand on the broad shoulders as he moved to the side, trying to glimpse Estel’s face.

 

Aragorn started slightly before laying a rueful smile on the elf lord.  Elrond remained about the only being that could utterly surprise him like he just had.

 

“Father, you startled me.”  Aragorn shifted, facing the older elf and leaning against the low stonework.  “What wakens you so early?”

 

“Funny, I was about to ask you the very same question.”  Deep blue eyes pierced through to the soul before him and Aragorn was surprised to find himself instantly shying away from the touch that was so familiar and yet so unwelcome.  He dropped his gaze to the floor of the valley, watching the Bruinen sweep by below them.

 

Elrond turned and leaned against the railing, waiting out the human.  The quiet roar of the waterfalls at the head of the river could just barely be heard on the still morning air and the silence hung between them heavily.  He had finally decided that his son was not going to open up to him just yet, when Aragorn turned his gaze back to the elf and held his father’s questioning glance.

 

“I do not wish to be human.”

 

The statement, spoken quietly, was simple and blunt.  The grief behind the words touched Elrond’s heart.

 

“You were never given that choice Estel.  Your blood is Númenorean and though there is very minute traces of elvish in you; you cannot choose to be one of the firstborn my son.”  Elrond gently laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder.

 

“If I had been I would go with you now across the sea.  The world is wearying.  I have seen enough of man’s cruelty and intolerance to last a lifetime.  If I cannot be what my heart desires, cannot lay claim to the things I truly love, then I will not walk amidst those for whom I feel so little kinship, will not tread a path whose end I cannot see, I choose exile.”  Aragorn frowned deeply and glanced back across the way, finally noticing for the first time that morning had blushed the mountains with its first rays.  Obviously these thoughts had been heavy on his mind for some time.

 

“Your heart is weary.”  Elrond recognized the battle-exhausted look; the look of one who had seen too much death and darkness. 

 

“More than you know.”  The whispered words fell away, caught by the slight breezes that were beginning to pick up.

 

“I know full well how you feel Estel.  I too have been there and if you think that only men have the corner on brutality, intolerance and hatred you would be wrong.”  Elrond stepped back as Aragorn straightened and turned towards the elf, resting the small of his back against the top of the rail.

 

The ranger shook his head.  “I saw men killing each other, not even knowing why, but simply because they were sent out to do so.  I saw women and children caught in the chaos and whole cities decimated.  Men who sought profit by enslaving another being and subjecting that being to horrible cruelty.  Selling one another, murdering, stealing...” Aragorn closed his eyes against the images that surfaced. “The darkness I saw in Mordor was deep and terrible... but I saw glimpses of that same darkness in the eyes of too many in the south that were neither orc nor wraith.  I have seen what power does to men, and I want no part of it.”

 

“The elven races are no different,” Elrond said quietly.  “We are simply older now.  When one has an immortal lifetime, lessons learned are sometimes better remembered.  We were just as you are once.  I have seen elves do the same to one another.  I know how heavy your heart is.   You must trust that it will not always be this way.”  Elrond hurt for his son.  The things the young man had seen drew scars on the heart of a kind that often did not fully heal, but he could not allow the human to turn from his own race; this one had a destiny that could not be so easily thrown aside.

 

“It does not feel like it will ever leave, the ache I mean,” the ranger explained when his father frowned slightly at him.  “I went to Rohan, to Gondor, to see what their world held.  To see if I could be what they need me to be... I cannot.  You have told me of my heritage, of my supposed future, but I do not want it.”

 

“You do not have to right now my son.  It is not for you at this time.”  Elrond’s words were calm and reasonable, yet laced with compassion. 

 

“But it will be!”  Aragorn stepped back, his anger peaking at his own helplessness and sense of inadequacy, “And do you think that in twenty or thirty years men will have changed?  I do not.  What difference will I be able to make in the world?”

 

“More than you can know.” Elrond glanced down to Estel’s hands and noticed that Barahir was missing from his fingers.  The ranger slowly opened his fist and the ring shown brightly in the warm light.  When the elf met his son’s gaze he noticed the guilt that hid just behind his eyes.  “You were going to get rid of it?”

 

Aragorn nodded and dropped his eyes to the floor beneath his boots.  “I had thought to throw into the Bruinen where it would never be found...”

 

“And so escape your destiny?”  Elrond closed his right hand around his son’s, the ring biting gently into his palm.  “The ring only marks you outwardly as Isildur’s heir.”  With his left hand the elf touched the human’s chest above his heart, “The true power you carry, and the goodness with which you will wield it, is in here... and nothing can change that.”

 

Silver eyes locked onto the earnest blue ones.  He knew the truth in what his father told him, but his war-weary heart shied at the thought.

 

“You have not come to that point in your life yet Estel; you have much farther to go still and many years to enjoy.  Do not feel imprisoned by the expectations of others, even those of us who love you.  Go where your heart leads you; you know you are welcome to rest here as long as you wish.”  Elrond smiled as the hand caught in his own tightened slightly and Aragorn wrapped his right arm around the elf lord, pulling him in closely.

 

“Thank you father.  I would stay on here for a while.  I need the rest.” Estel whispered softly into the elf lord’s ear.

 

Elrond nodded in understanding as the young man pulled back, “I for one am glad, for I missed you these past years.  Since you have been in my life young one, I have begun to experience time as the race of men does and I do not cherish that feeling.”  He laughed lightly as he wrapped his arm around Estel’s shoulders and drew him back inside with him.  “It will do my heart good to have you near again.  Besides, Celboril has done nothing but complain about not being able to make panjacakes.  You know you are the only one who loved those things.  I am sure he will have some ready for you this morning when we break fast!”

 

Aragorn smiled and walked back into the house, easily allowing himself to be lead through the large mansion.  He gently wrapped his arm around his father’s waist and laughed as the older elf began to tell him about a stunt his brothers had pulled just last week.  He found he was amazed at how young he suddenly felt and how light his heart became when he released his cares and relaxed into the warmth of his home, Imladris.  Something echoed deeply inside and he realized he had missed his family more than he knew. 

 

Slipping Barahir back on his finger he allowed his heritage to settle deep in his heart, far from the surface; accepted but not taken up.  For now he was Estel, at home in Rivendell and he could hear the sounds of his brothers echoing down the stairwell as they teased Legolas mercilessly.

 

He laughed, pulling back behind his father slightly for protection as the Silvan elf vaulted the railing, jumped from the last landing of the staircase and landed lightly next to him.

 

“This is all your fault.  You must stop them.”  The blonde elf laughed as he stepped behind the human and the elf lord. 

 

Elladan and Elrohir had chased him down the stairs and the prince glowered at them with unrepressed mirth as he hid behind their father and brother.  “*I* did NOT use either one of your closets for my clothes, Estel gave these to me last night!  Take it up with him!”

 

Aragorn held up his hands innocently against his brothers mock-accusing stares.  “Well Celboril is the wrong size.  I couldn’t find you last night to ask and Legolas said he was sick of wearing my clothing...”

 

At this Elladan and Elrohir had to laugh.  “I wonder he did not weary of that the first day.”

 

Elrond shook his head with a smile.  Aragorn’s clothing, even the silk or velvet tunics and robes he wore around Imladris, had looked slightly off on Legolas’ graceful form.  Especially since Aragorn was wider built than the slender elf.  However, even the brown and maroon tunic and leggings that Aragorn had borrowed from his brothers, although a bit of a nearer fit, still did not look completely natural on the blonde archer.

 

“Well the good news,” the elven lord said patiently as the younger beings jostled about him with Aragorn pretending to growl at his brothers for the slight and them pretending to be oh so frightened. 

“Is that the tailor said the clothing I commissioned for the Prince should be ready later today.”  Elrond supposed rightly that Legolas would feel more comfortable once he was again able to dress in the

familiar styles of his woodland kin.

 

Legolas smiled gratefully, pretending to ignore the three brothers.  “Thank you.”

 

“Now,” Elrond used a tone one might employ for very small children, which made his three boys look up almost in unison.  It was all Legolas could do to keep from laughing.  “I believe Elladan and Elrohir expressed the desire to take you both out hunting with them today, so I suggest that this would be a good time to have that breakfast.”

 

Aragorn smiled.  It was *so* good to be home.  “Yes, Ada.”

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART TWO*~

 

 

 

The sun had ridden half way through its course across the sky when Aragorn finally convinced his brothers and Legolas to stop for a bite to eat.  The four had been out with the hunting parties since early morning and had sent the other elves back to Imladris with their catches only an hour ago.  The game on the plateau they hunted now was sparse but their boredom had turned into sport as they took turns hunting each other.

 

Aragorn had been the last one to play the part of the prey and none of the elves, including Legolas had been able to track the human.  When the three hunters had finally given up on finding him, their quarry had leapt into their midst from the branches of the huge trees that spread out a thick leafy canopy over the elves heads.  The shock and surprise on the elven faces had given the human great amusement.

 

Elladan gave the ranger a shove as he recovered from the initial shock.

 

“Estel will you never grow up!?”

 

Attempting to sober, Aragorn straightened up and glanced amongst the elves.  “No.” the man answered with mock seriousness before breaking into a huge smile.  The twins had almost gotten over their initial shock at the changes the years apart had wrought in their human brother and Aragorn noted with amusement that he was once again back to being their ‘little’ brother.  And he liked it that way... although he would never admit that to them.  “Please, let us break for food. I am starving. Please.”  He eyed Elrohir, knowing the youngest twin would have the most sympathy.

 

Shaking his head Legolas hooked his fingers in the ranger’s sleeve and dragged the man with him, back through the woods, trailing the twins.  “There was a pond not far from here.  We can eat there.”

 

Aragorn was laughing as he stumbled after the prince, jogging to keep pace with the swift being.

 

“Only if it is not near a cliff.” Elladan taunted, elbowing Elrohir who joined in the teasing.

 

“Yes you know how clumsy Estel is around them.”  The youngest twin continued.

 

“Or an orc encampment...” Elladan picked up the thread again.

 

Doing his best to ignore them, Aragorn shook his head and rolled his eyes, walking next to Legolas who was trying not to break out laughing.

 

“Or dwarves...” Elrohir laughed.

 

“Or rivers, or cities...”

 

“Wargs or wolves or old mills that he could fall off of.”  Elrohir stopped talking and jumped back as Aragorn rounded on his brothers.

 

“Now, that was not my fault, and so long ago I can’t believe you are even keeping score!  I have not fallen off a building since I was a child.” Aragorn advanced on the two who split up trying to stay out of reach.

 

“No, just waterfalls, trees and cliffs, things like that.” Elladan ducked as the ranger turned towards him, playfully lunging at the elf.  He rather suspected that Legolas had told them about the cliff incident in Mordor and that had helped set this off. 

 

Legolas snagged the back of the ranger’s coat and jerked him around forward.  “Ignore them, they are just jealous because your father gives you more attention.  They only wish it was them who lived such an exciting life.”

 

The taunt elicited a stammering of arguments and denials from the twins but Aragorn had stopped listening.  His war honed sense of danger had kicked in, something was not right and he began to search for the source of the disturbance.  Grabbing Legolas’ arm and the ranger slowed the elf and glanced warily about them as they reached the edge of the glade.  The deep pool Legolas had mentioned sparkled on the far side of the meadow, fed by a high mountain stream but the ranger did not proceed towards it.

 

Legolas held up his hand silencing the elves behind him.  Noting the tenseness in the prince they all began to listen to the woods about them and heard what Aragorn had first noticed, the forest was silent.

 

“We are not alone.” The ranger barely whispered, turning slowly and gazing into the cool recess of the woods.

 

He caught Legolas’ gaze as the elf glanced sharply his way.  Without words the two friends communicated in silence.  Aragorn directed the twins to separate and head back the way they had come.  Legolas would head through the woods to the right and Aragorn would take the left. With a curt nod of agreement the elves disappeared without a sound into the forest seeking what it was that hunted them.

 

Aragorn slowly drew his elven hunting knife, the blade quietly singing as the metal slid from its sheath.  He stalked through the forest, constantly glancing above him into the tree branches over head, wary and alert, every fiber of his being tensed and ready.  There was definitely someone or something out there, he could feel their proximity.  Slipping to the edge of the stand of trees as he completed a full circuit around the meadow Aragorn stopped at the point where he should have met up with Legolas but the elf was not there.

 

His worry notched up higher in his throat and he stood very still, straining to hear in the unnatural quiet.

 

The soft sounds of booted feet on the carpet of undergrowth caught his attention and he swiveled to his right, running silently in the direction that he had been alerted.

 

The trunk of a large old tree sheltered him from immediate view as the ranger stalked up on Legolas.  The elf faced away from his position, he had just dropped his elven blade to the ground and slowly raised his empty hands. 

 

A man stood behind him, his features concealed by a hooded cloak.  One of the human’s arms was around the prince’s neck, the other holding a thick hunting blade against the elf’s jugular.  Whatever the human was saying was blocked out by the rushing adrenaline that spiked through Aragorn.  He would not suffer his friend to be tormented or hurt by any man every again if it was within his power.

 

What he could not see however, was the smile that played across Legolas’ lips and the relaxed cast of the proud shoulders as the elf released the tension in his body; his ‘attacker’ was known to him.

 

Just as Legolas turned to greet the human who had so surprised him, he caught a glimpse of Aragorn as the man lunged at the hooded figure roughly dragging the man back a few steps away from the prince and the perception of threat.  Pressing the elven blade hard against the human’s neck he drew close and questioned the other harshly.

 

“You think the elf is game?  You like hunting elves?”  Aragorn tightened his death grip on the man’s neck squeezing his airway as gloved hands pried frantically at his arm.  “You have chosen your prey poorly.  You are not welcome in these mountains do you understand?”  The ranger growled angrily in the other’s ear, giving his captive a good shake.

 

“Aragorn, no!” Legolas leapt forward, stalling his friend from hurting the would-be attacker.

 

“Aragorn?” the human in the ranger’s grasp rasped as Strider quickly released the man and stepped away from him, unconsciously placing himself between the hooded figure and the elf prince.

 

“Estel, it is Halbarad, the rangers have been searching for you.”  Legolas explained, switching quickly into the elven tongue as his friend caught up with all that had just transpired.

 

The ranger before him smiled brilliantly, rubbing his neck where it was still tender from the attack.  “Aragorn! I never even heard you come up behind me, and look at you!”  Halbarad gave the young man before him a careful glance, “We have heard the tales of Thorongil.  It was my suspicion that is was in fact you.  When the rumors said that the great captain of the Gondorian army had abandoned her, and that Estel had returned to Rivendell, I knew it was true.”

 

Before Aragorn could respond the ranger walked out in to the open meadow and pressed his gloved fingers to his lips, releasing a long low whistle.  In seconds other rangers stepped out into the sunlight of the small glade joining their leader.  Elladan and Elrohir raced to the edge of the glen and immediately began greeting the newcomers that they recognized.

 

Aragorn turned to Legolas and looked the elf over quickly, “You weren’t hurt?”  He was still trying to reconcile the threat he had perceived with what had really transpired.  The elf prince stepped close to his friend and lowered his voice, glancing at the human and quietly reassured him.

 

“I am fine. Halbarad did not harm me, well other than my pride at being surprised by a *human*.” Concern quickly colored the elf’s formerly teasing gaze, “Are you all right?”

 

“I thought you were in danger.  I thought that...”  Aragorn sighed deeply, releasing his fears and pent up tension not finishing the thought.  He hated the war-like responses that had been drilled into him.  This was the second time he’d nearly harmed a friend because of an over-reaction.  It would take time to hone out those responses and not take reflexive action now that there was no immediate threat in his life.

 

“You thought I was being attacked.”  Understanding filled Legolas’ eyes.  Understanding and compassion.  Aragorn had set himself up as the elf prince’s fierce protector during those long, hellish, hopeless days in Mordor; that would not be easy for the human to let go of now that it was no longer necessary. 

 

“Yes, again.”  Aragorn’s voice was now only faintly edged with tension.

 

With a small smile Legolas laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “It is well.  I am fine, although you scared the life right out of me.  If he had been an attacker I should fear for *him* with you about.”  The elf joked softly, trying to bring a smile to the ranger’s face.  His attempts were rewarded as Aragorn smiled and shook his head, wrapping his hand around the elf’s arm and giving a tight squeeze before he turned back to the others who were busy conversing with the elven twins.

 

“Aragorn!” Elladan looked up from the conversation, “You must hear this.”

 

The two friends quickly crossed the distance between themselves and the knot of rangers that were talking quietly to the elves.

 

“They say it is a wight.”  A younger ranger to Halbarad’s left spoke up.

 

“Arendur, Elrohir was not challenging you, merely questioning.” The leader of the rangers deferred almost imperceptibly to Aragorn as the Dùnadan joined the circle, stepping aside lightly to allow him in.  “Though the barrow-wights are never up to any good, you are correct Elrohir, it is highly unlike that it is them.”

 

“You speak of barrow-wights?”  Aragorn questioned, joining them in the middle of the conversation.  His question was directed to Halbarad but he glanced around the group of men curiously, noting the ones he recognized.  His gaze landing lastly on Legolas.

 

“Yes.”  Halbarad’s statement redirected Aragorn’s attention and he raised an eyebrow in question, urging the other ranger on.  “In the hills east of the Shire there has been suspicious activity among the Barrow Downs, or so they say.  People have gone missing, Hobbits have been taken from the paths that cross near there.  All of the little folk have been freed but their possessions are gone.  Rumor has it that a few of the humans who have disappeared have never been found.  Even animals have been reported as stolen.”

 

“That does not sound like the scheming of a wight.”  Legolas offered softly.

 

“No, it is highly unusual, but the folk around there are adamant that the barrow-wights have been stirred up.  There are even stories flying about that the wraiths have returned and are searching the area, taking people as slaves for Mordor.”

 

Legolas shuddered involuntarily, his eyes momentarily clouding.

 

“That is highly unlikely; the wraiths are holed up in Mordor itself.  Or at least one of them.”  Aragorn didn’t offer how he knew that information, he simply made the statement, ignoring Halbarad’s unspoken question.

 

When the Dunadan was not forthcoming, Halbarad nodded in understanding and continued, “Others believe that it is highwaymen.  Whatever the cause, it is an evil venture and it needs to be stopped.  Someone must find out what is at the root of the disappearances and thievery.  If it is the barrow wights then we will need more help than simply elves or rangers have to offer.”

 

“Are you headed there now?”  Elladan asked from the far side of the ring.

 

Halbarad cast his gaze to the forest floor, hesitant to continue, “Actually that was why we came.”  The ranger met Aragorn’s eyes finally.  “Our numbers have lessened the past fifteen years that you have been gone.  These are all that remain of my camp.  We were on our way to combine our forces with another encampment when word was brought to us of the goings on in the Downs.  The wars on the borders of Gondor and Ithilien have drawn away some of our number, stretching us thin, and the constant increase in reports of orcs and wargs have kept the rest of us busy.  There are none that I can spare to keep watch over the south farthing let alone the eastern downs.  I was hoping that since you were back...”  Halbarad let the question hang between him and the younger man.  He had heard some of what had happened to Aragorn during his stay in Gondor and then the rumors that the ranger had passed into Mordor, following Legolas.  He was not sure that the man would want to take up the challenge so soon to returning home.  He knew he wouldn’t.

 

“If there were any one else I could trust, I would ask them first.”  Halbarad’s voice dropped so that the request suddenly became a thing between the two of them alone.  “If you would rather not, since you have just returned I would completely understand...”

 

The older ranger stopped speaking as a wide smile crossed Aragorn’s face.  The man who he realized was no longer young stepped closer to him and grasped his arm.  “You do not need to worry Halbarad.  I will go and look into this and if it is a barrow wight I know just whom I will call upon to help in the matter.  If it is others then that person or persons will be dealt with but it will stop.” He reassured.

 

“I’ll accompany you.”  Legolas offered.

 

“And we’re coming too!” Elrohir called to his younger brother.

 

“You hate the barrows.”  Elladan frowned, glancing at his twin.  “You said they were more frightening than...”

 

“Shut up Elladan.”  Elrohir viciously jabbed his brother, silencing him as the rangers turned to stare at the two elves.  The twin’s face reddened slightly as he barely caught the soft snickers of the men around him.

 

“There, see.”  Aragorn laughed returning his attention to Halbarad, “It’s all taken care of.  We’ll leave tomorrow at first light. But first please be our guests tonight.  Father would love to have you spend dinner with us, he so enjoys hearing what you have been up to.  Besides,” Aragorn grimaced and pointed at the red welt that had formed around the other ranger’s neck, “I feel I owe you for that nasty bruise you are going to have.  I am so sorry Halbarad, I truly did not recognize you.”

 

The ranger’s deep booming laugh filled the meadow, “Oh Aragorn, if you could have seen my face when you snuck up on me from behind.  I remember the days when you could never pull one over on me.  I am just very glad for Legolas’ help.  You have grown quite adept in your stalking techniques.  I fear I can teach you no more.”

 

Aragorn’s face reddened and he glanced at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck idly with his hand, slightly embarrassed at the mention of how terribly loud he used to be when in the wilds.

 

“Well perhaps you can still teach me how it is that we have passed fifteen years and you look the same as you did when last I saw you.” Aragorn swatted at the long locks of dark hair that fell about the other ranger’s shoulders, “Why if it weren’t for that graying in your hair I would never have known the years had passed at all.”

 

Halbarad feinted at the younger man.  “Why you...”  He laughed as Aragorn ducked and pushed Legolas forward, “You’re a fine one to talk.  Not all of us were born with Númenorean blood in our veins.  And I’ll have you know the wear of the years shows in you as well, if not so much.”  He followed as Aragorn began to lead them back toward the rift that Rivendell had been built into. “I see you’ve a few new scars to flaunt for the ladies.”

 

Choking on his laughter, Aragorn cast a quick glance over his shoulder, “And you are as bad as Elladan.  Come, we were just breaking for food.  Let us return home, perhaps Celboril will be able to scrounge us up something to hold us over until dinner.”

 

The small entourage of men and elves made their way off the mountain, their cheerful banter filling the woods as they passed beneath the wide-flung canopy.

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

The hunger of the guests had been sated and Elrond had invited the rangers to remain into the evening and enjoy the hospitality of the Hall of Fire.  Already the great room was beginning to fill with elves from the surrounding homes.  They talked and laughed and sang.  More of them entered the large gathering place as the rangers filed in.  Some were producing instruments and in moments the Hall filled with music that lifted the heart and hung in the air. It reminded one of being outside gazing at the stars, hauntingly beautiful and at the same time ageless and old.

 

The rangers were received warmly and immediately joined the guests, dispersing through the room.  There were small pockets of elves and humans recounting tales on the east side of the room.  There Elladan and Elrohir could be found trading stories with their listeners and trying to out do one another. 

 

Legolas realized that he recognized few of the elves that filled the hall besides Celboril and some of the serving staff that he had become accustomed to seeing on his frequent visits.  He followed Aragorn as the human wound his way from one side of the great room to the other, greeting neighbors and trading news.  It seemed that most of Elrond’s guests were familiar with the elven Lord’s human son and warmly welcomed him back.

 

The Silvan elf was waylaid by Celboril who caught his sleeve and pulled him nearer.  The older elf was laughing helplessly and begged the prince to stay.

 

“You must help me.”  He smiled at the ranger who stood next to him, glowering.  Halbarad crossed his arms indignantly and glared at the laughing elf. “He sings like a love sick elk.  He cannot keep a tune and swears he can.  Help me teach this whelp what singing truly sounds like.”

 

Legolas laughed in spite of himself.  His spirit, still somewhat recovering from his time in Mordor was lifted as he glanced between the two beings.

 

“I do not sing like an elk!” Halbarad sputtered.  “Lesgalwen, play that ballad again and we shall let Legolas be the judge of my singing abilities.”

 

Aragorn, oblivious to his friend’s plight, slowly shifted through the elves gathered in his father’s house. It had been years since he had been in the Hall of Fire and still it was all he had remembered it to be.  The atmosphere was full of mirth and light.  The musical sounds of elven laughter buoyed his own flagging spirit as his mind turned to the things they had discussed at dinner over and over.  His attention was captured as Lord Elrond entered the room.  His father.

 

The smile that spread unconsciously across his face widened as the elves cheered and welcomed the elf Lord into their midst.  It seemed as though all the surrounding homes in Imladris had emptied and their inhabitants had gathered here for the evening as was so oft their want to do in the Hall of Fire.

 

Elrond moved easily among the many guests gathered under his roof, serving them and seeing to their needs.  The Hall of Fire was indeed large enough to hold even more, but the company that gathered tonight was plenty and easily entertained themselves.

 

The servants of the House of Elrond were never required to be such in the Hall of Fire.  They served their lord willingly, faithfully by choice and some out of familial devotion like Celboril who had known Elrond since his childhood days.  Never did one of the firstborn serve another under duress and Elrond for his part made sure that they were treated as guests at such gatherings.  He handed Halbarad a mug of heated wine as he passed by; it looked like the man could use it.  The elf lord’s laughter echoed through the hall when Celboril winced as the ranger missed a higher note.

 

Clapping his hand on Legolas’ slender shoulder, the lord of Imladris bent close to the Silvan elf, speaking loudly enough for those around to hear as he teased.  “Please Legolas; teach Halbarad how to sing the Ballad of Elondil before it is ruined forever.”

 

With a laugh and a mock bow the blonde-haired elf acquiesced.  “As you wish my lord.”  Legolas had up to this point been simply offering pointers and partially taunting Halbarad as Celboril attempted to teach the ranger the elven song, refraining from singing the melody himself.

 

Aragorn, having made his way through the large hall flopped down into one of the soft, comfortable chairs that was situated on the far side of the room and watched as Legolas began singing.  The Silvan elf’s voice started out softly, the notes pure and rich.  The musicians around Legolas picked up the song, their instruments a soft, melodic backdrop for the elven voice.  Remembering the words more clearly and finding his courage, the elf’s voice strengthened.  He let his thoughts infuse the words with the images that he saw in his mind as he closed his eyes and the song filled the room, silencing even those in the far corner telling tall tales to one another.  Aragorn closed his eyes as well and sank into the comfort of the chair, letting the rich elvish words and the sweet notes wash over his restless soul.  A smile touched his lips.  Legolas sang like one of the famed bards of old, never missing a note and singing with a clear, pure voice that the ranger found soothing.

 

As the song slowly quieted and slipped away the room erupted in cheers, quickly falling back into the low buzz of people talking and laughing with one another.  Stories were picked back up mid-sentence and a dozen different tunes were taken up, as more instruments were unpacked.  Clapping Halbarad on the shoulder Legolas excused himself and walked slowly through the hall, making his way to where Aragorn lay sprawled in a deep soft chair.

 

The elf seated himself quietly on the large, plush wing, pulling one knee up to his chest and resting his chin on it.  Neither friend spoke.  Aragorn had not opened his eyes but he knew that the elf had joined him.  He could smell the scent that was singularly Legolas and had felt the slight movement of the chair as the prince settled himself on the arm.

 

The warmth of the room and the light-hearted pleasure of good company lulled the companions into a state of peace and contentedness.  The fire in the great hearth sparked and roared merrily as it was constantly fed.  Aragorn had always loved this room, he had found it fascinating as a child to discover that the fire was continually kept going and never died out.  In fact, even when the Bruinen had jumped its banks, now so many years ago, and the house had been almost completely evacuated Celboril had never let the fire go out.

 

The ranger’s thoughts turned to the past, remembering and embracing once more his rich elvish heritage that his adopted father had so willingly and easily shared with him.  Oh but in his heart he was elvish, and he silently cursed his natural born lineage.  Men.  Thoughts of the men he had known who had served under and with him brought mixed feelings and uneasiness filtered quietly back into his heart unbidden.

 

“You are ill at ease on such a pleasant evening.”  The light weight of Legolas’ hand on his shoulder stirred the ranger from his reverie, “What troubles you Estel?”

 

For long moments they sat, the elf content to allow the human the time he needed to respond.  When he spoke, Aragorn’s voice was soft, meant for the prince’s hearing alone.  The words surprised the elf.

 

“Will you be wanting to leave for home soon?”  Grey eyes finally opened, fixing on the silver-blue ones that stared down at the human in surprise.

 

“I hadn’t given it much thought.”  Legolas replied honestly, for he had not.  Time was a different matter among elves.  And although he knew Thranduil would desire word of his plans if he were able to send it, his accountability to his father was not as it had been when he was younger, or as it would have been were he human.

 

Aragorn nodded slowly and looked back to the intricately tiled floor.  He kept forgetting that Legolas and his father had a different relationship than he and Elrond; due in no small part to the very fact that time was perceived so diversely among the races.

 

“Why do you ask?”  Legolas shifted slightly, turning so the Dùnadan had his full attention.  The celebrations in the room were forgotten as the two friends talked quietly.  “Do you wish me to leave?”

 

“No!  I mean... unless you wanted to.”  Aragorn turned in the large chair, drawing his feet up onto the cushion and resting them on the arm near Legolas’ thigh.  That was exactly the opposite of what he wanted.  “Actually, if you don’t mind, I would have you stay on for a time.  Even after we return from the Shire I mean.”

 

“Estel, I had no plans to leave anytime soon.”  The prince glanced up as a party of elves passed them by, exiting the large room.  Returning his stare to the open gaze of his friend he continued.  “I want to stay...” Legolas words faltered and softened and the ranger was forced to concentrate on what he was saying, “my heart needs it right now.” The elf lightly touched his chest, his thoughts far away.  He loved his home, but Mirkwood in general was no longer a place of light, and Legolas wished to linger in the beautiful bliss of Imladris for a time before he faced the journey into the dark woods. 

 

Concern colored Aragorn’s gaze and he started to speak when Legolas glanced up at him once more, the shadow of remembrance passing swiftly from the deep blue eyes.  “It is good for me to be here with your family, with you and with your father.  And if it is also your wish, then I would be more than glad to remain.”

 

Nodding slowly, it was Aragorn’s turn to shift his gaze anywhere away from the searching glance of his friend.  He knew the elf could see into his soul in a way that most others never could, never chanced, and weren’t allowed.  Usually that was all right, but for some reason it was hard to let the prince see his hesitancy, the indecision that warred inside of him.  “Yes, I would that you stayed on, but I did not want to keep you if you wished to return to your father.”

 

The light laughter of the elf surprised the ranger and he glanced up quickly, confused.

 

“Oh Aragorn, these months I have been away from my father’s kingdom are as days for him.  He will not have missed me so soon although I think I should wish to send him word that I am well and staying on in Rivendell.  Truly he has probably already guessed.  We have finally accustomed him to our ways mellon-nín,” the prince’s laughter was light.  “When he learned I meant to visit you he appointed a lieutenant to take over my patrols for an indefinite period of time and started making long-term care arrangements for my Ketrals.  He won’t have them in the palace when I’m not there.”  Legolas’ hand on Aragorn’s shoulder tightened slightly.  “He does not expect me back immediately.  I will stay.”

 

This was indeed what Aragorn’s heart was questioning that he had not had the courage to ask.  He was a leader of men, a captain in the army of Gondor, a man raised among elves to be both human and elven, the misgivings of his heart and the indecision that plagued his thoughts bothered the ranger.

 

“Your heart needs the rest too Estel.”  Legolas read past the walls and the closed, emotionless face that stared up at him.  “You are weary.  Perhaps... perhaps it would be better if we told Halbarad that we cannot go at this time?  It is no slight to you.”

 

“No.”  Aragorn didn’t shift his gaze, allowing the elf to see his fears and hesitancies, he trusted the prince with his life, with his soul. “No,” he repeated with a sigh, “there is not the man power to be spared else wise and the inhabitants of Bree and the Shire need help.  Something like this will lock the countryside up with fear.  They are simple people Legolas and they have had to live with evils such as this for far too long.  If you will go with me I would be grateful for your company my friend.  And between you and my brothers I have nothing to worry over.”

 

Legolas gazed up at the ceiling for a moment as though pondering his reply but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed his thoughts.  His hesitancy garnered the desired reaction as Aragorn laughed softly and gave the elf a small shove. 

 

“Yes,” Legolas laughed, dodging the playful smack, “I would enjoy being out with you, Estel, and your brothers as well.  It has been a long time since we have all traveled together.  It will be exciting for me, as I have never been that far west yet.  I would love to go.”  He smiled down at his friend, “And I will stay here in Rivendell when we return for as long as you should wish.  There isn’t another Yén for a few years and seeing as father and I parted on amicable terns for once, I have no pressing reason to return home.”  The elf’s smile reached his voice, softening the words in jest.

 

Aragorn mirrored the smile the elf favored him with and pushed himself up out of the deep cushions of the chair.  Extending his hand down he pulled the elf up and wrapped his arms around the prince’s slender shoulders.  “Hannon le mellon-nín.”  He whispered in Legolas ear.  “That being the case my dear elf, I am going to retire for what remains of the evening. I have not the stamina that you do and if we leave in the morning I wish to be fresh and ready.”

 

“Yes!” Legolas shoved the human towards the doorway, “I wish not to have a grumpy ranger on my hands.  Nothing is more intolerable!” 

 

“Prissy elf!”  Aragorn called the old taunt over his shoulder affectionately.

 

“Filthy human!”  Legolas called back in kind, “Bathe while you are at it!”

 

The room silenced a degree as the two old friends called the jaded remarks to one another.  Aragorn blushed deeply as he glanced at his father, realizing the words spoken in jest had been heard by more than just Legolas.  Elrond gracefully crossed his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow in question.

 

“My pardon, gentle beings, but I must take my leave of you.  As my friend has so kindly pointed out, I am in need of a bath and a bed!”  The ranger called to their guests.  He smiled widely and pointed to the wayward strands of hair that fell into his eyes as proof.  His admission brought a round of laughter and a good deal of teasing from the other rangers in the room.  The voices of his brothers could be heard over the tumult of the cheer and he glanced once more at his elven father.  The elf lord’s smile widened and he shook his head fondly.

 

“Off with you then.” He mouthed silently, “I will be up later.”

 

With a nod Aragorn turned and left the great hall seeking out the quieter places of the Last Homely House.  He hoped his father would wake him even if he had fallen asleep by the time Elrond sought him out.  He really needed to talk with the older elf.

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART THREE*~

 

 

~~~~~~~~
Unsure of yourself
You stand divided, and now
Which road will lead you there?
Last time you fell and you hit hard
Your wounds have healed by now,
But you still see your scars.

 

--Three Doors Down
~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

Aragorn woke with a small gasp, his body tense as he sat partway up in bed.  Elrond was seated in the large comfortable chair that was a permanent fixture in the ranger’s room.  The elf lord was gazing out the picture window that took up more than half of the far wall.

 

“Oh.” Aragorn relaxed back against his pillows, “You’re doing it again aren’t you?” He asked quietly as the dark eyes turned back to watch him.

 

Elrond didn’t answer the question, only smiled slightly.  It was true; he had been in the young human’s room for sometime now, watching his youngest son sleeping.  Aragorn glanced over the blankets scrunched in a ridge near his face and saw his small shell night-light burning brightly on the mantle. It had been refilled and its wick was trimmed.  He knew the light was for him should he wake, as the elf lord needed no aid in seeing in the dark.

 

The house was quiet within.  The sounds of laughter and celebrating no longer filtered up the steps to reach the sleeping rooms.

 

“Is Legolas asleep?”

 

“Yes.”  Elrond’s smile widened. “He had quite a good time tormenting your brothers by telling stories about them to our guests.  Moranuen even pitched in to aide him.” The older elf shook his head as the human laughed softly.

 

“Oh I can just imagine the response that garnered.”  Aragorn snickered quietly.

 

“Yes, he was...” Elrond sighed, echoing his son’s laughter as he stifled a laugh of his own, “he was very popular among the guests.”

 

Shifting under the covers, Aragorn propped himself up on his right elbow and pushed the wayward strands of hair out of his eyes.  His open shirt hung loosely across his chest and he pulled the blankets up a little higher to stave off the cool night breezes.  “I just bet he loved that.”

 

“It did his heart good to talk about lighter times than the ones you both have passed through recently.”  Elrond acknowledged quietly.

 

Aragorn glanced down to his fingers where they lay lightly on the bed sheets, twisting the soft linens into intricate swirls. It was a habit he fought hard to overcome, but it never failed that when he was nervous or uncertain, he absently fiddled with whatever was close at hand.  The silence stretched between them, but it was not uncomfortable and Elrond let it persist.

 

“I was thinking of leaving for the Downs in the morning.”  The ranger’s voice was a mere whisper.

 

Elrond nodded slowly.  His eyes searching the silver ones that slowly glanced up to gauge his response.

 

“I thought you would leave soon.  The wandering heart of a ranger beats in you my son.”

 

“The sooner we are away the more quickly the Bree-landers can be free of this threat.”  Aragorn answered as though his decision required an excuse.

 

“It is well, Estel.”  Elrond smiled softly, holding the tentative gaze the ranger laid on him.  He saw the hesitation and the self doubt resting so uneasily near the surface of the young human’s soul.  “Your journey should be an easy one this time of year.”

 

Aragorn only nodded, there was more he needed to speak of but he wasn’t sure how.

 

“What else troubles you?”  Elrond could tell that that was not all that bothered the man and waited while Aragorn sifted through his thoughts and fears.

 

“Legolas.”  His gazed flicked up to lock onto the elf lord’s and he allowed the immortal to glimpse straight into his soul.

 

“Ah.”  Elrond let his own gaze drop to his hands as he read past the ranger’s statement and into the fears that dogged him about his friend.  “He is healing well Estel.  The weakness he was still experiencing when you two arrived has faded...”

 

Yet the statement had been made as though there were more the elf lord wished to say and Aragorn picked up quickly on that fact.  “But there is more.”

 

“His wounds are healed.  He is physically capable of going with you.  Yet what troubles me, and I believe what it is that you see in him, are the wounds to his soul.  The shadow in his eyes from time to time where a light heart should dwell.”

 

A sigh escaped Aragorn’s lips and he pushed himself into a sitting position.  Scooting back against the ornate headboard, he pulled his knees to his chest and let his head drop down into his hands.

 

“And he is not the only one who carries them.” Elrond spoke the statement quietly, piercing to the heart of the matter.

 

“No, he is not.” Aragorn’s agreed, his muffled whisper barely ghosted to the elf lord.

 

Raising his head up and fixing his father with a weary gaze Estel continued, “Legolas asked me if we shouldn’t remain and tell Halbarad we couldn’t go at this time.  I had entertained the thought for a while before he asked.  I am not so sure he isn’t right.”  Aragorn’s gaze swept slowly out to the large window.  The light of the stars and the full moon bathed the veranda in a pale silvery glow.  “If even you have seen that Legolas needs rest, I would not risk going now.  I-I do not speak of it to him, but my dreams are still haunted by his voice begging me to...” the ranger pressed his eyes closed, cutting those memories off.  Elrond already knew all about that.  “If he needs to remain here for a time, then I will tell Halbarad in the morning that we cannot help him.  I know Legolas will never let me go without him.”

 

“Did he say he wanted to go?”  Elrond prompted, delving into the matter further and forcing Aragorn to look at all the angles before his mind was decided.

 

“Yes.”  Aragorn smiled as he recalled the conversation, “As a matter of fact I think he called it exciting, as he has never been that far west.”

 

“That I do not doubt.”  Elrond laughed.  “The Silvan elves of his realm have rarely traveled the western lands and even that was many eons ago.  My son, I will not lie to you.  I worry for the both of you.  Your hearts both bear wounds that need time to heal.  But time it seems has chosen to heal you in a way that I would not have foreseen.  Perhaps this journey will be good for both of you.”  He smiled as the tension left the ranger.  This was what the Dunédan had been hoping for, either confirmation from his father that his taking leave so soon was acceptable or a firm denial that either of them was in any shape to go.  “However Estel, I cannot be strong enough in my warnings.” 

 

Elrond shifted from the chair and seated himself on the edge of the bed staring hard into the young man’s eyes, “Be very careful of the wights, whether this current problem is real or imagined the wights themselves are all too real and not to be trifled with.  Use wisdom when you are near the Down’s and Bree, for wisdom will be a good ally for you through this. If what you are up against is the force of the wights it is possible that you will not be successful.  Theirs is an ancient and powerful evil that has not been broken since the war with Angmar and neither you nor Legolas are in any shape to stand against them.”

 

He leaned closer, piercing the human with a hard gaze, “Do you understand me Estel?  You must not engage them, you must not go near them.  I pray the Valar that what you will oppose is only of the mortal kind.  If you need help and this task is more than you are ready for, send one of your brothers back and I will see that assistance finds you quickly.  Do *not* attempt to deal with real wights on your own.”

 

A small smile crept across the ranger’s face as he stared in the blue eyes that were fixed on him so seriously and Elrond couldn’t help but see the child in him still.  “Oh Ada, it is good that someone still worries about me even though I am in my forties.”

 

With a snort of laughter the elf lord shook his head, “Child.” He said fondly, “Your father nears his five thousand and fiftieth celebration of life, if I haven’t lost count.  Do not forget that you will always be my son.”

 

Aragorn ducked his head stifling his laughter, “Please let us not have that lecture. I can quote it to you by heart now.”

 

Elrond wrapped one hand behind the man’s head and pulled him forward wrapping him in a light hug, “No lectures then.” Turning his face towards Aragorn’s hair he breathed in deeply, smelling that scent that was unique to the human raised among elves.  “But heed my warnings; it will lighten my heart for your leaving.”

 

Pushing back lightly Aragorn stared deeply into the elven eyes, realizing for the first time that Elrond actually wanted him to stay.  He had missed having his youngest son near, but would not stop the ranger from living his life or pursuing his destiny.  “We are coming back here, home, as soon as we are through.”  The ranger reassured. “Legolas has agreed to stay on as well.  He says he needs it.”

 

“He does.” Elrond concurred softly.

 

“Then we will go tomorrow so we can come home sooner and then we will both rest until you give us your blessing to do otherwise.” 

 

“Watch Legolas and do not let him over exert himself in ways that would cause him more pain.”  Elrond cautioned, “He is yet a little fragile under the surface but will not restrain himself if I know him.  You know of what I speak.  The barrows hold a foreboding all their own.”

 

“I do understand and I will, I promise.”  Aragorn squeezed his father’s arms gently.

 

With a nod Elrond stood and stared down at the human that he considered his youngest son, “And I have instructed your brothers to do the same with you.” He laughed lightly as the ranger rolled his eyes.

 

“Father I am an adult...” Aragorn started to protest, although he knew his family was well aware of that fact now.

 

“I would not use that argument near them if I were you.”  The elder elf laughed.  Leaning down he gently kissed the crown of the ranger’s head.  “Get some sleep Estel, morning will come quickly.  Worry not on it tonight, for tonight you can sleep in peace.”

 

“Yes I know, each day brings its own set of worries and burdens.”  Aragorn finished the statement.  “Thank you Ada.”

 

Elrond knew he meant the for elf lord’s blessing and the words of encouragement.  With a nod the older elf walked to the mantle and extinguished the small night-light; the light emanating from him shown softly in the now darkened room.  “Sleep well my Estel.”  He whispered as he walked back past the bed bending down and gently pulling up the blankets up as Aragorn eased back down under the sheets.  The ranger grabbed the elf’s hand and gave it a soft squeeze.

 

“Sleep well Ada.  I will see you in the morning.” Aragorn whispered as he turned over, rolling the blankets tightly about him.

 

Leaving the room, Elrond paced back down into his study, his heart preoccupied with the conversation he had just had. In all truth he had hoped that Estel would remain for a while, but he understood the necessity of their leave taking.  With a sigh he contented himself in knowing that they would soon return once more.

 

Behind him, the glow globes were quietly put out as Celboril followed in his lord’s wake.  The house was once more cleaned and in order and the fire in the great hall sparked merrily in the empty room.  It had been Celboril’s job and his pleasure to keep the rooms of Imladris since Elrond had first built it in the valley so many ages past.  The old elf had been a servant of Elrond’s adoptive father Gil-Galad and had remained with the son to oversee and help him much as he had done for years beyond remembering - it was his life’s joy to serve and he did it well.

 

Celboril knew his lord’s moods and needs and was ready, knowing that the elf he served would soon be asking for warmed tea.  He stopped at Elrond’s room and turned the bed sheets down, starting a small fire in the fireplace before quickly descending the steps and seeking out Elrond.  He had not heard the quiet conversations the elf lord had had with his son but he knew that the two youngest inhabitants of the house were leaving in the morning and the home just hadn’t been the same with out them for all the long years Aragorn had been away.  He hoped they would accomplish their task quickly and return even more swiftly.

 

“Celboril?”  The soft call pulled the servant out of his reverie and he hastened into the study.  The elder elf smiled.  The tea water was already warming. 

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

They had followed the Great East Road for many leagues.  The hill countries had eventually given way to the open meadows of the Lone-Lands and the ranger followed his companions, glad for once to be simply led and not leading.  Slowly the death grip of the daily stress he had been under since his decision to leave Gondor was slipping away.  Likewise he had noticed that Legolas seemed to have recovered fairly well as the elf laughed lightheartedly at something Elrohir had said.  The prince glanced back at the human and shook his head in denial.  In all truth Aragorn hadn’t been paying attention, his own thoughts drifting on the winds that brushed against them as they kept up the steady pace ever westward towards the Shire.

 

He honestly hadn’t heard whatever it was that had caused the elves to break out laughing, but the mirth that danced in the blue eyes that watched him brought a smile to his face.  It was a long time that he had worried about the prince on their return home to Rivendell and even for the weeks they had stayed on, there was a shadow that had hung over the prince.  He had tried to hide it but Aragorn knew him too well and it was not lost on the Elf Lord either.  Elrond had told Aragorn to give Legolas time and space to heal and despite the concerns he voiced last night, the healer was convinced the elf’s spirit was well on its way to returning to its former brilliance. 

 

He was been right.

 

Aragorn caught up with Legolas and questioned Elladan as they entered another sloping vale that ran parallel to a tributary off of the Mitheithel.  He could hear its waters now slowed to a mere stream just over the next rise. 

 

Looking out upon the valley they were walking through, Aragorn noted how the wind rippled through the long grasses, brushing the fields of green in invisible waves in the early evening light.  From the midst of the flat plain rose the remnants of the watchtower of Amon Sûl, known in the common tongue as Weathertop.  Its ragged ruins reached into the sky with jagged tips that seemed to rake the clouds passing over head, fingering them into ribbons that streaked the evening canopy.

 

The old tower stood atop a hill of stone, weather beaten, broken and covered with grasses and moss that decorated its torn heights in the shades of early spring.  That it stood at all was testimony to its makers.  The tower had seen much in the long eons that had passed it by. 

 

“Amon Sûl.”  Elladan whispered almost reverently when the magnificent ruins came into sight.

 

With a small nod of acknowledgement Elrohir walked on next to his twin.

 

Legolas however was forced to stop abruptly, nearly running into Estel.  The ranger stood staring at the remnants of the heights.  His gaze transfixed on the ruins.  Here and there burn marks scorched the tallest reaches where lighting had struck the old tower throughout the years as spring storms had passed this way.  The grasses adorned its broken down sides like a comfortable garment thrown across the shoulders of its upper reaches, the living greenery finding the oddest places to grow from in the rocky ledges.  The fading sunlight bathed the lower level in a bright warm glow as the sun shown through the bottom layer of clouds on its way to its evening rest.  To Aragorn it held an instant kinship to his weary worn heart.

 

Broken, battle scarred, a power forgotten...laid aside.

 

The human breathed in deeply, catching the rich smells of the meadow; the grasses that left a heady scent when crushed underfoot, the sweet aroma of the wildflowers that grew in bunches across the valley decorating the grassy floor with their vibrant colors and the slight smell of old stone that has too long been untouched by human life, musty and full of the very earth itself.  It spoke to him of strength and he closed his eyes as he allowed all the memories and thoughts to assault him.

 

“Estel?”  Legolas was glancing nervously between the ranger who seemed riveted to this place and his brothers who were walking swiftly back towards them.

 

“What is it?”  Elrohir questioned as they strode back towards the two friends.  Elladan grasped the ranger’s shoulder and shook him gently.

 

“Estel?”

 

When he opened his eyes he was still looking at the tower.  “It is old.” He stated the obvious quietly, oblivious to the odd stares, “What happened to it?”

 

Elladan glanced over his shoulder at the ruins, “Amon Sûl?”

 

“Yes.” Aragorn focused on the oldest twin.

 

Elrohir turned, watching the remnants, wondering what had so fascinated the human.  “It was a watch tower, many years ago.”

 

“A magnificent one.” Elladan chimed in, “It is said that it was built by Elendil in the early years of Arnor when this land at that time lay in the central parts of Elendil’s domain.  The tower housed a palantir at one time, although what happened to the seeing stone has long been lost to history.  They say that it was once beautiful here.”

 

“Why is it in ruins?”  The ranger pressed.

 

“I heard there was a war.”  Legolas stepped up and glanced around Elrohir.

 

“Many actually.”  Elladan continued.  “But the last was the worst.  The watchtower was nearly torn down.  The invading armies of Angmar destroyed it.  When Arnor broke up, the tower was abandoned in the borderlands and exposed to the enemy’s invasions.  They brought it to ruin before they were beaten back themselves. Only what you see remains, its caretakers were never found.”

 

A deep sigh escaped the human’s lips as he tried to imagine what the tower had once looked like in its days of glory.  Now, only a shell of its former dignity remained.  Stripped by war and violence, the watchtower had been left to the wilds and here finally it had become a part of them.  Its walls and stairways tucked into the crevices of the stone hill were covered like the valley floor in one sweeping carpet of green, abandoned, forgotten - instead of standing out from the land around it, the tower blended with its surroundings.

 

“It has seen much war.”  Aragorn whispered softly, “And it now has rest. You can feel it.”  He glanced at the elves that were watching him oddly.

 

It surprised Legolas that the human could indeed sense the deep ancient tranquility that filled the basin in which they walked, the touches of evil from Angmar were nearly dissipated now.  Usually that closeness with nature was reserved for the elves, but somehow Aragorn’s time among the men had intensified his awareness and his upbringing had made him more sensitive to his surroundings. 

 

Perhaps it was merely the traces of the elveness in his blood but Aragorn *could* feel this place in a way he never had been able to anywhere else but Imladris.  The sorrowful wounded places in his heart echoed the taint of war that still clung to the stone spires piercing the sky and the empty weariness inside of him was filled with the peace of the valley; it touched him like Rivendell always did whenever he came home.  He couldn’t quite explain it.

 

Suddenly he realized that was the feeling, like home, “It feels familiar somehow.”  He spoke out loud as he pressed by Elladan and strode towards the ruins.  The older twin shrugged and followed the human as the elves glanced between themselves.  Perhaps the heir of Elendil could still feel at home in Elendil’s ruins, even if he thought he wanted no part of that heritage. 

 

“Let us camp in its lower levels tonight.”  Aragorn turned back to his brothers.

 

“You don’t find it a bit creepy Estel?”  Legolas taunted the ranger, emphasizing the unusual word the human had used to describe Orthanc so many years ago as he eyed the tower hesitantly.

 

Rolling his eyes Aragorn glanced over his shoulder as the elf prince gained his side, “No, I do not.  Saruman doesn’t live here for one thing and there are no orcs about.”

 

“Orcs?”  Elrohir repeated curiously, grimacing at the mention of the foul beasts.

 

Legolas stammered, half laughing, trying to protest but was stopped as the ranger continued, “Besides, whoever created this place obviously was not the same person who dreamed up that nightmare of a tower our good friend the White Wizard calls home.  And do not tell me that you were not unnerved by it either.  You did meet me in the hall on the way to my room because you couldn’t sleep by yourself as I recall.”

 

“WHAT!?” The twins questioned at the same time.  This was a story they had never heard and Elrohir began to laugh.  “You wouldn’t sleep in your own room?” He teased Legolas.

 

“There was more to it than that!” The elf prince gave the ranger a good shove as they walked up to the lower staircase.  The hewn rocks were covered in moss and blended in perfectly with the grass-covered hill on either side of them. “Why don’t you ask your brother *why* it was I found him in the hallway and where he was headed?”

 

Aragorn scowled at the elf playfully, lightly jumping up the first few steps and turning to gaze back on his companions.  He tried to hide the smile that pulled at the edges of his lips but was unsuccessful. “I was looking for you.” He answered avoiding the whole truth.

 

“He was carrying his pillow and blanket and would not sleep in his own room.”  Legolas filled in the details as the twins stared incredulously at their younger brother before breaking out laughing.

 

“Your pillow?” Elrohir echoed.

 

“Do you have to repeat everything that is said to you?!”  Aragorn raced up the next few steps waiting for the elves to catch up with him.

 

“And that wasn’t the half of it.” The elf prince ducked as the ranger threw a small stone at him.

 

“Legolas.”  The human growled trying to stop the elf from continuing with the story.

 

“No, let him.  I can’t wait to hear the rest!”  Elladan pushed past Elrohir and ascended the steps on Legolas’ heels.  “What more is there? Do tell.”

 

“Well your brother, the ranger, wouldn’t sleep on the bed but he slept on the floor between the bed and the wall so whomever he believed was coming in would get to me first!”

 

Aragorn swiveled on his heels as he reached the lowest landing and glared at the helplessly laughing elves.  An archway set in the very stone itself led to the main floor of the tower but the human favored the landing for the view of the valley that it lent.  He fixed his oldest brother with a serious stare, “You should have seen the manservant, I swear Elladan he was no man!  He was...” the ranger stalled and quirked his mouth, barely stopping from saying the word.

 

“He was creepy!” Legolas finished the sentence, turning huge wide eyes on the elves and shuddering as if in fright.  He had had an irritating fascination with that somewhat plebian sounding word since the first time Aragorn had introduced it into his vocabulary. 

 

“Well he was!”  Aragorn defended himself as he gathered the small sticks and bramble that had collected in the concave area, swept there by the winds that would scour the valley from time to time.  They would make good kindling for a fire.

 

Elladan gave the prince a friendly shove forward as they all spilled out onto the ledge where Aragorn was crouched down, flint in hand, trying to start a fire and ignore his family and his friend.  In the end the lightheartedness of the elves was contagious.  He shook his head, pointing the tip of the branch he was feeding to the small flame with at the elven prince, “I am telling you there are hiding orcs in that dark tower *somewhere* and I’ll not be going back there anytime soon no matter what you say or do to me.”

 

His admission sent the elves into another fit of mirth as they dropped to the ground around the small blaze. 

 

“Saruman the White not knowing of orcs in his own tower!  Now that *is* a thought worthy of laughter!” Elrohir chuckled. 

 

The warm light filled the concave where they sat and Weathertop basked in the glow of the friendly banter long into the night.

 

Legolas walked to the edge of the landing and seated himself next to Aragorn.  The human was sitting on the lip of the precipice, his booted heels kicking the rock wall below them as he scanned the moonlit valley of the Lone-Lands.

 

“Not tired?”  The elf whispered softly.

 

“No.”  Aragorn yawned around a smile, his weariness betraying him.

 

“Why don’t you get some sleep?  Your brothers are already resting.”  Legolas eyed the human out of the corner of his eyes watching him carefully.

 

“I can’t sleep. I am tired but I can’t get my thoughts to quiet down.”

 

“What troubles you?”

 

Aragorn picked at a weed that grew up between the rocks near his thigh as he thought.  He tossed the bits of grass over the ledge into the darkness before he answered watching them catch on the wind and loosing them in the night.

 

“Do you believe that a wight is responsible for the happenings near the Barrow Downs?”  He had been thinking on the things Halbarad had told them and weighing the theories that the ranger had reported.

 

“I do not know what to believe.  We will have to wait until we get there to see if we can discover what has happened.  There is nothing good about a barrow wight Aragorn.  From what little I know, they are wholly evil and the wickedness that has been done near the Downs would not be beyond them.”

 

With a sigh Aragorn turned to face Legolas, his eyes locking onto the blue ones that questioned him.  It struck him as odd how very young the elf looked in the moonlight, his own glow enhanced by the soft illumination of the night.  The prince didn’t even retain the scars from their recent journey home, although Aragorn’s faintly decorated him still.

 

“In my heart I am not sure that I am ready for this.  There is a part of me that wishes to simply reside in Imladris and let the world pass me by until the end of my days.  If I never see another war or am never called to be a leader or assume my heritage I am not sure at this point that it would disappoint me.”  Aragorn laid his fears before his friend, surprised when the elf smiled softly at him.

 

“I know what you mean.”  Legolas lay back on the stone ledge and gazed up at the stars overhead.  “I have felt that way.  When your father rescued me from Dorolyn I never wanted to leave Mirkwood again. I did not care if I ever met another human being for as long I lived and if the world outside the borders of our woods fell then I would have not missed them.  I hid for nearly three thousand years.”

 

The elf laughed when the ranger quirked his eye brows at his admission.  Aragorn leaned back next to his friend resting on his left elbow as the prince continued.

 

“All right then, maybe three thousand years is a bit of a stretch but it was at least three times your lifetime before I even ventured out into the world again, even in our my own land.  Going beyond that was something I resisted for even longer, especially without companions.  That night you fell into my life was just about the first time I had left our borders alone since Dorolyn.”  Legolas’ gaze was far away accompanying his thoughts.  “Elves have the years to spend Aragorn when they want to hide, humans do not.”  The prince turned his eyes from the night sky and pierced his friend with an open stare.  “But human hearts recover more quickly than do ours.  You are gifted with the ability to forget, time fades the sting of your wounds, but our memories carry on with us.”

 

Dropping his gaze, Aragorn turned back to stare into the inky darkness of the night around them.  After a few moments a soft touch to his arm redirected his attention and he looked down at his friend.

 

“Give yourself time.  The memories you carry may never go away, but they will be replaced by others soon enough.  It is the way of life.”  Legolas knew of what he spoke and it was advice he himself was taking to heart.  His recent captivity in Mordor had marked him, marked him deeply... but he had recovered from horror before and he knew that the pain, no matter how deep, would not last forever if he did not allow it to do so.

 

Aragorn laughed softly, “You sound like my father.”

 

“His is a wise man, you should listen to him.”  Legolas closed his eyes a smile tugging at his lips.

 

“Now I *know* that you have speaking with him!”  Aragorn gave the elf a playful shove as he flopped back down on the ground next to his friend releasing a weary sigh.  He gazed up at the stars that twinkled in the garment of night.

 

“It was hard to see Eärendil in Gondor.”  Aragorn commented softly.

 

A small snort of laughter caused him to roll his head towards his friend and stare at the elf.

 

Legolas was smiling as he gazed at the bright star, “It was *hard* to see Eärendil in Mordor.”

 

For some reason the statement struck the ranger as funny and he tried to suppress his laughter, not wanting to wake his brothers.  His attempts to quiet himself set the prince off and in moments they were both watching the winking pinpoint of light and laughing.

 

Legolas elbowed the human as they quieted.  “Go to sleep Aragorn.  You have many years yet before you need worry about the troubles of this world.  Let us enjoy this time with your brothers.”

 

Aragorn nodded wordlessly as they lay side by side staring up at the stars, he knew Legolas was right and he realized that he just needed someone to say it out loud.  When he finally spoke his voice was soft, thinking his companion might be sleeping, “You just want to trade stories with them.” 

 

The quiet statement set the elf to laughing and he smacked the ranger, turning over on his side and rolling up in his cloak, “Now go to sleep Strider, you are intolerable when you are grumpy and I will not suffer you to be tired in the morning.”

 

With a snort of derision Aragorn placed his hands behind his head, crossing his boots at the ankles and stared into the sky a smile on his face until sleep stole him away.

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART FOUR*~

 

 

 

The sun warmed the mid-day sky as the small party of elves and rangers left the Lone Lands and Weather Top behind them.  Halbarad and Arendur had re-joined them earlier in the morning, reporting that the other rangers they had sought out and spoken with had no more information on the alleged Barrow-Wight threat. 

 

They were making towards Bree at a good clip when Aragorn held up his hand, signaling a stop.  The high fen and uncut grasses waving on either side of the road tossed lightly in the gentle breeze, but there was some stir in them that was not put there by the wind.  Someone or something was hiding nearby. 

 

Aragorn’s battle instincts came immediately to the front of his consciousness, wary of ambush.  Halbarad had been talking to Arendur and had not noted the possible threat, but halted when Aragorn did, looking around. 

 

The elves, a little ahead of their human companions, had also sensed something amiss and quickly backtracked up the road without needing a signal from Aragorn.  Elladan and Elrohir drew their bows and concealed themselves around the bend in the path while Legolas joined the men.

 

The elf prince slid to his friend’s side.  “There’s something out there,” he whispered to Aragorn, but his expression was not one of alarm, rather of puzzlement.  “I do not sense evil... but I do not know what it is.”

 

A small rustle on their left made them look up sharply once more.  Despite what he sensed or didn’t sense, Legolas’ fingers went to his bowstring, just in case. 

 

But Halbarad’s brows furrowed and he lowered the sword he had drawn.  “I think we are overly watchful my friends, ‘tis a small creature or I’m no scout.  Most likely a badger or hedgehog of some sort.”

 

“Badger or hedgehog indeed!” an indignant voice spoke up from somewhere below the normal eyesight level of the men and elves present.  They all looked down in surprise as a small man stepped out of the grass, brushing off his already tidy green waistcoat with a sense of injured dignity.  No, it wasn’t a small man, one look at the broad bare feet and the round cheerful face told you that.  This was a hobbit.  And one who was quite far from home which was not usual for their kind.

 

Legolas just stared, surprised and a little curious.  He alone in the party had never seen one of this race before.  “What is it?” he remarked in wonder without thinking much about how that sounded.

 

“*IT* is a hobbit good sir,” the small, curly-headed being huffed a little more.  “And I would have expected a bit more courtesy from one of the firstborn.” The hobbit’s bright eyes narrowed inquisitively.  “But then you’re not from around here are you?  You’re wearing Rivendell clothes... more or less... but you look Silvan to me.  However, I feel as if I’ve seen you before... bother, I can’t place it.  Memory is one of the first things to go they say.”

 

Aragorn almost laughed.  He had forgotten that although Legolas had spent a great deal of time in Rivendell since they became friends, the wood-elf had never had occasion to come this far west or to cross paths with any of the local hobbit population before.  “And what, pray tell, is a hobbit of the Shire doing so far from home, alone, and, forgive me for saying it, hiding in the grass like an egg poacher?” Aragorn asked with good humor, sheathing his sword while the other rangers did the same.

 

“Egg poacher!” The hobbit bristled slightly.  “Never done such a thing in my life.  I was just being cautious if you want to know.  Not all the big folk one meets out here are to be trusted.  When I heard the elf I figured it was safe to come out.  Bad men generally do not associate with the firstborn.  I see that there’s no rule regarding *rude* men however... who are you anyway?”  The question was directed at Aragorn. 

 

“I’m a Dúnadan my good hobbit, a ranger.  You have naught to fear from us I promise.  I apologize if I have insulted you, it was not my intent but you gave us rather a start I fear,” Aragorn bowed slightly as he introduced himself, sweeping his arm out to the side in a gesture for peace.  He was a little surprised at this hobbit’s knowledge about elves.  Few these days outside the rangers had much to do with elves or elvish lore.

 

Elladan and Elrohir, hearing the conversation gave up their hiding place and re-joined their friends.  Their gaze lighted on the hobbit with amusement.  “Mister Baggins, we didn’t expect to meet you out here.  Not on your way to Rivendell to commandeer father’s library again are you?” they jested. 

 

Aragorn raised his eyebrows as he turned to his brothers.  “You know him?”

 

Elrohir nodded.  “Of course we do, and so do you Estel although you may not remember.  First came through Rivendell years ago when you were about ten I guess, dragging a whole lot of dwarves with wagging beards and tired ponies... what a merry sight they were!  Surely you must remember something, Gandalf was with them and they talked to father quite a long time.”

 

Vague remembrance filtered slowly through Aragorn’s mind.  But it was a long time ago for him and he had been only a child. 

 

“Estel is it?” Bilbo eyed the ranger.  His many visits to Rivendell gave him cause to know that name even if he had not met the man in many years. 

 

“Bilbo here has been quite a frequent visitor to Rivendell these past few years since you’ve been gone,” Elladan further explained.  “Always trying to pick father’s brain for stories of the elder days and spending hours translating and pouring over old texts that I will admit not even I find an interest in.”

 

“I don’t know where the world is going these days, when young people no longer take an interest in their own history...” Bilbo shook his head sagely, but with an impish smile.

 

“Young people?” The twins laughed.  “You should talk Bilbo, we’re both of us far older than you even if you are getting old now for a hobbit...”

 

“Oh so getting old now am I?” Bilbo laughed despite himself.  “Well then looking at young Estel here I *do* feel old... excuse me, Dúnadan if you prefer that name,” the hobbit smiled at Aragorn.  “I don’t really remember you I fear, but at the time we seem to have met I had... many other things on my mind, but I know your brothers and look forward to making your acquaintance.”  Bilbo shook Aragorn’s hand.

 

“Well now we all know who each other is, but that doesn’t tell us what you are doing out here Mr. Baggins,” Halbarad pointed out.

 

“Bilbo, please, no need to stand on formalities among friends.  Actually my trip is quite pointless now as I was on my way to Rivendell to bring tidings of these odd doings around the Barrows.  Creating quite a stir in the four farthings it is and I said to myself that if anyone knows about the ancient things in these parts, it’s the elves.”

 

Legolas smiled.  “And how do you know that is our errand?”

 

Bilbo flushed slightly.  “Well I couldn’t help overhearing you talk as you came on...”

 

Aragorn laughed.  “Not an egg poacher then, but a spy.  But well met it seems.  What can *you* tell us of this whole troublesome business?”

 

“Not much I fear,” the hobbit shook his head.  “Just that there is a considerable to-do about it all.  Folks as far away from the Downs as Bree and the Shire are afraid to go out at night.”

 

“Did you not pass through them on your way out here?” Elladan inquired. 

 

“Certainly not!” Bilbo shook his head.  “Do I look like a fool?  I bypassed the Old Forest and the Downs entirely.  But folks are talking.”

 

“Well, it seems that the mystery still looms before us then, and we had best be on our way again,” Aragorn glanced towards the west and their goal, still many miles away.  “Will you be accompanying us then Bilbo, or going on to Rivendell?”

 

“I have quite enough work on my book waiting for me at home, I need no more at present, therefore, I shall accompany you,” the hobbit said decidedly.  “As far as Bree anyway.  If there *is* anything out there in those dreadful Barrows I certainly don’t want to meet them.  I’ll have quite enough of a mystery on my hands trying to figure out where I know you from Mr...” he nodded towards Legolas and waited to be supplied with a name. 

 

“Legolas, son of Thranduil of Mirkwood,” Legolas bowed slightly. 

 

“Ah!  Well now that explains it,” the hobbit seemed relieved.  “A wood-elf, I should have guessed.  I probably saw you at the battle of the Five Armies with your father.  And if not, you do look remarkably like your father, that hair isn’t too typical for your people.”  He left out the part about having been an uninvited guest in Legolas’ home for quite a long time without the wood-elves’ knowledge.

 

Legolas laughed.  “Well Mr. Baggins, you certainly do seem to get around.  I cannot ever recall having seen you before, but your name is familiar although I knew not the manner of being to which it belonged.  My father still wears the gift you gave him on high occasions; I am honored to make your acquaintance.”

 

Halbarad and Arendur were quite a ways ahead by now and stopped to call back to the rest of the slow moving party.  “Are all of you going to stand around and chat the whole day or are we moving foreword?”  The elder ranger teased.

 

“Coming Halbarad, we’re coming,” Aragorn called back as they moved onward. 

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

Bilbo sat upon a downed tree trunk that had been pulled near the brightly burning fire, listening to the men and elves discuss their next move.  They were just on the outskirts of Bree, having made camp in the forests that bracketed the eastern most parts of the fenced in town.

 

“No, I want to go into Bree.  I believe we can learn a lot from the townsfolk and this is the perfect time.”  Aragorn glanced between Legolas and Halbarad.

 

The older ranger shook his head, a wry smile crossing his face.  “Don’t tell me you are going to drag these elves in there with you.  I know what you’re thinking Strider and it has promise but you know the risk.  No one will talk to you and they surely will not speak to three elves.”

 

“I don’t need any of them to talk *to* me, I just need them to be talking.”  The younger man argued his point.

 

“You aren’t thinking of...” Legolas eyed Aragorn suspiciously his eyes narrowing as the ranger turned a brilliant smile on him.  “You are.” With a sigh the elf turned and walked back to the fire, dropping down next to the Hobbit.

 

“What?  He’s thinking of what?”  Elladan moved closer into the midst of the conversation.

 

“Don’t ask.  I’m staying here Strider.”  Legolas called out to the

man as he tossed another fallen branch onto the flames.

 

“Oh no you are not.”  Aragorn turned towards the prince. “I need those ears of yours my friend.”  He laughed softly as the elf glared at him.

 

“You have two other elves to torment with your insane plans.  Pick one of them. I hate those places.”  Legolas begged to be released but the ranger simply shook his head.  Aragorn depended too much on Legolas and knew that the environment they were heading into would not toss off the elf.  Although the prince would have liked to deny it, after their time in Harad he had more experience blending with humans than most elves.  Estel trusted his brothers implicitly, but he wanted Legolas at his back too.

 

Arendur’s laughter redirected Aragorn’s attention and he raised his eyebrows in question.  “You think I am insane as well?” he questioned the younger man.

 

“I think,” Arendur replied as he retrieved his weapons from were they rested against a nearby tree, “that I will accompany Halbarad to the Downs and see if we can verify any of these strange reports we have received.”

 

“It’ll be safer there.” Halbarad whispered loudly as he pulled his companion with him, heading for the mist-shrouded hills on the far side of Bree.

 

“Wait!” Bilbo jumped up from his perch near the fire.  Thus far he had quietly tried to keep up with the conversation, but a nagging fear had gotten the best of him and he interrupted the plans.  “You don’t mean to leave me here alone do you?  I mean...well its just...” the small being stuttered slightly, trying to make his request known without appearing to be afraid, even though he truly was.  “I mean you’re not just all going to go off now are you?”  He finished off his question quietly his voice falling soft as he spoke.

 

Aragorn responded first, his compassion for the small being caught at his heart.  Of course the Hobbit would be afraid.  He had been on his way to Rivendell for help.  Crossing the camp in a few paces, the ranger dropped down in front of Bilbo on one knee, putting himself eyelevel with the hobbit, his eyes locked onto the dark ones that watched him cautiously. 

 

“I had no intentions at all of leaving you here alone.  One of my brothers will stay in camp with you.  Your hearing is nearly as good as any elf’s and the two of you will be able to keep the fire going and the camp safe.”  Aragorn smiled slightly, “How would that be?”  He lowered his voice to keep the conversation between himself and the Hobbit, “They are both excellent marksmen, you couldn’t be in better hands.”

 

Straightening slightly the halfling nodded in agreement, “That would do nicely thank you.”

 

Standing to his feet Aragorn glanced over his shoulder at the rangers on the far side of camp, “That’s settled.  Shall we?”  Halbarad shook his head slightly matching the grin on Aragorn’s face.  “Oh, your coat if you would my friend?” Estel reached out towards the older man.

 

Halbarad knew what the ranger had in mind and he easily removed his over coat tossing it towards Aragorn.  The young ranger handed it over to Legolas who accepted it without question.

 

“We’ll see you at first light then.”  Halbarad called back to them. Silently the pair left the glen, their passing almost imperceptible even to elven ears.

 

“That just leaves one thing,” Aragorn glanced at the twins, “Which of you would like to stay with Mr. Baggins and which one would like to accompany Legolas and me to Bree?”

 

The twins glanced silently at one another for a few moments as though pondering if they wished to choose either.

 

“I’ll stay with Bilbo then.”  Elrohir spoke quietly; his answer was for his brothers ears alone for the moment.

 

“As you wish El.  Are you sure?”

 

The elf turned and threw a smile over his shoulder at his younger human brother, “I think I am very sure. I have no idea what Estel has in mind for the two of you, but I get the distinct feeling that I will be safer here in the hobbit’s company.”

 

“Good choice.”  Legolas muttered, standing to his feet and stretching out his hand to Aragorn who was shrugging out of his worn leather coat. “You have no idea how glad you will be.”

 

With a snort of laughter the ranger handed off his coat to the prince who passed it to a confused Elladan.  Digging in his pack Aragorn produced a long strip of colored cloth - a turban he had borrowed from his father before they had left.  He had anticipated just such an encounter as tonight would bring.

 

Elrohir walked around the fire and watched in barely contained mirth as Legolas shrugged into Halbarad’s coat.  The human’s scent on the clothing was not strong and did not bother him.  He accepted the cloth from Estel and began deftly winding the long piece of fabric around his head, binding his tresses up in the length.  Wordlessly the prince turned towards Aragorn for his inspection.  This was nothing new to the two of them; they had gone through this ritual many times in the past by now.  The ranger glanced first at one side of the elf’s head and then the other.  Legolas had missed covering up the tip of his left ear and the human gently moved a strip of the fabric swath down so that the point was concealed.  Satisfied he nodded at the prince, glancing over the elf’s shoulder at his older brother who stood wordlessly watching holding the ranger’s coat.

 

“Now for you.”  Aragorn clasped his friend on the shoulder as he moved past him.

 

The prince couldn’t help laughing as Elladan backed up slightly, wary of the human’s approach.

 

“What is this Estel?  Where are we going that we can't be known as elves?”  Elladan took a step farther back from his brother as the man grabbed the coat and held it out for the elf to put on.  “I am not putting that thing on.”

 

“Yes you are.  Because I need you and Legolas and unless you want to attract a crowd of gawkers you can't go into the Inn of the Prancing Pony looking as you do.”  Aragorn stepped forward, smiling to himself as he remembered Legolas’ very similar reaction many years ago.

 

Elladan stepped back.

 

“The what?” The elf pressed the ranger away from him as Aragorn tried to drape the coat over the elf’s shoulders.  “Why would I want to go there?”

 

“It is a local spot and there will be local people gathered there tonight who will be more than happy to talk all about the goings on in the barrow downs.  By this time they have had sufficient amounts of mead and ale to loosen their tongues.  Now come on.”  Aragorn stepped forward again effectively trapping the twin between himself and the firepit, holding out his long-coat for the elf to wear.  “Put this on.”  His voice held no room for debate.  “I’ll not have anyone questioning you or Legolas and I don’t need to attract any more attention than necessary, but I do need those ears of yours and you *are* coming.”

 

“I think I hear Halbarad calling.” The elf frowned, looking for any way out.  “I should probably make sure he’s all right.”

 

Dropping the coat to his side Aragorn tipped his head and glanced at the elf, they were running of out time.  The men’s tongues soon would be loosened by the mead they were drinking and the ranger wanted to reach the pub before the drink went to their heads and made the over exaggerate, or worse pass out. 

 

“You aren’t afraid are you?”  Aragorn pulled out the childhood taunt.  It worked every time one of them proposed a dare that the other did not want to follow through on.

 

Roughly grabbing the over coat out of his brother’s hands, Elladan quickly shrugged into the leather jacket, his nose wrinkling slightly, “This smells like...”

 

“It smells like me!  What *is* it with you elves?”  Aragorn glared in mock indignation, silencing the giggles from the prince who stood across the fire.  They had had this conversation before.  Almost exactly.

 

“I told you that thing needed a good airing out.”  Legolas confessed innocently.

 

“Legolas!”

 

“My, this is better than when the Sackville-Bagginses and the Brandybucks get together to discuss the proper methods for the growing of pipe weed.”  Bilbo smiled, reminiscing to himself.  “Say,” He leaned over next to Elrohir and lowered his voice, “are they always like this?”

 

“Worse.”  Elrohir glanced at the hobbit out of the corner of his eyes, “This is pretty good for them actually.”  He whispered back.

 

“Fine!” Elladan buttoned up the leather coat concealing his elvish attire.  “Fine!  Let's go then.”  He frowned at his brother, his irritation showing through slightly.

 

“Wait, you aren’t quite ready.”  Aragorn stepped closer to his brother reaching behind him and grabbing the folds of the hood that lay against the elf’s back.

 

Legolas turned away, walking a few paces into the woods, unable to stifle his laughter.

 

Gently Aragorn pulled the large hood up and over his brother’s head, tucking the wayward strands of dark hair back in around the elf’s face.

 

Crossing his arms irritably, Elladan glared at the human as Aragorn pressed the elf’s hair around his ears, fully concealing them and stepped back to admire his handiwork.

 

Nodding slowly he smiled at the twin, “The glare is good too, it’ll keep any of the curious away from our table.”

 

“I’m going to have to bathe when we are through.” Elladan growled.

 

“You look lovely.”  Aragorn taunted, quickly touching the sides of the elf’s face and planting a kiss on his forehead. 

 

The teasing had reached Elladan’s limits of toleration and he shoved his brother back.  “I swear Estel; I will make you pay for this.” He growled, stepping towards his brother threateningly.

 

Aragorn moved back in close to the older elf. “Oh! Really?  Seems to me I remember a time you dressed me in that outfit of mothers when I was younger *against* my will.  And then, convincing me the house was empty, you dared me to run into the Hall of Fire where father was in actuality having a council meeting that you knew full well all about?  Hmmm?  Yes, let us talk about revenge shall we?”  The ranger glared back at Elladan, “Glorfindel excused himself to escort me out when I tripped on the edge of the dress trying to get out of there.  It took me weeks to come out of my room after that!  At least I have dressed you like a man.”

 

“Not much of an improvement.”  Elladan mumbled darkly but the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips offset the slur.

 

Legolas stumbled back into the circle of light, his giggles inhibiting his breathing as he spoke.  “Really Elladan, this isn’t the bad part.  *This* my friend is the easy part.  I’ve been where you are.”  The elf smelled the collar of the coat he wore, “Actually I prefer the way Estel’s jacket smells, I’m used to it.  Would you like to trade?”

 

“Stop it!”  Aragorn was laughing now as Elrohir nearly fell off the log he sat on; the conversation having taken such a light bent, the elf was consumed with laughter.  “No you can't trade coats!  Although I’m sorry my friend I hadn’t thought about the smell for you.  We need to get going.  We have no time to waste; Bree is a one half of an hour away and already night is well upon us.  The gate guard may not allow us access as it is.”  Aragorn started to head towards the town fully expecting the elves to follow him.

 

Sounds behind him alerted the ranger and he turned to find that Elladan had quickly shrugged out of the leather coat and was holding it out to Legolas.  Aragorn simply rolled his eyes as the two elves traded jackets.

 

With a laugh Elrohir rose from his seat and helped Elladan conceal his ears and long braided hair once more beneath the hood of Halbarad’s coat this time.

 

“This is much better.”  Legolas smiled impishly at the ranger as he quickly pulled the familiar overcoat around his shoulders. 

 

“Elves.”  Aragorn growled at Legolas as he turned and led his companions away from the camp.  He threw a brilliant smile at the youngest twin as he walked passed the Hobbit and elf.

 

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART FIVE*~

 

 

 

The gate of Bree loomed tall before the three travelers, blocking their path.  Aragorn turned and stopped the elves, his focus on Elladan.  He and Legolas had been in this same situation many times, entering a town of men who were not frequently exposed to the firstborn.  Most humans were suspicious and wary of the fair beings.

 

The ranger was not worried about how his elven friend would fare, Elladan could more than take care of himself.  It was his brother’s reactions that concerned him, and the risk of losing their cover.  Elladan was not uncomfortable or wary around humans as Legolas had once been.  However, he was used to cities of men who were friendly and accepted the elven brothers’ comings and goings.  Their dealing with the rangers and Beornings had made the twins somewhat innocent to the workings of humans on a greater scale.  Here they would find no welcome.

 

“Elladan listen, when we get in there...” Aragorn’s admonitions were cut short by his brother.

 

“I have been among humans before Estel.  You worry far too much.  El and I have ridden with the rangers since long before you were born I’ll have you know.”

 

Pressing the two elves back into the woods behind them, Aragorn continued the conversation at a safer distance from the city so as not to be overhead by the random passerby.

 

“I know you have.  And you are older and wiser in the ways of this earth than I am...”

 

Elladan grinned.  “Correct.  Estel, it’s not as if this were the first time I’ve seen Bree.  I don’t see the need for all this.”  He gestured to the coat hiding his features.

 

“I know it’s not, but there’s a difference between riding by or passing through, and actually trying to mingle.  These men are not like the men you have known.  They are not bad, but they are a suspicious and superstitious lot.  Many have never even seen an elf, for elves do not frequent these places and they are more used to the evil things and the wilds than they are to something they consider myth.”  He raised his hands in a pleading gesture when Elladan tried to interrupt again.  “Please brother, I do not question you or your abilities, it is the ones we will be among that worry me.”

 

Aragorn glanced to his right, smiling at the prince, “Legolas is used to this atmosphere, but it has not been without trial and error that we discovered how best to conceal ourselves.  Let me do the talking.”  He spoke the last sentence slowly as though speaking to a very small child.  “In all likelihood we will not be challenged or even engaged in conversation by anyone.  We are here to listen and see what we can find out.”

 

“I do not like this.” Elladan answered softly.

 

“I know.”  Estel placed his hands on the elf’s shoulders and stared up into the blue-grey eyes that watched him.  “Do this for me, I need your help.  Besides, it won’t be that bad.”

 

The elf nodded once.  It was enough for the ranger, who tugged playfully on the edges of the hood and turned silently leading them back to the large wooden gate.  He rapped on the timber that made up the huge door and waited, pounding again when no answer was forthcoming.  Sounds of shifting and grumbling issued from behind the barricaded doorway and an irritated voice finally answered the repeated knocking.

 

“Who calls so late at night?” A thin voice called to them.

 

“Open the portal.”  Aragorn glanced behind him shaking his head.

 

A small square window set in the door cracked open and yellow light spilled out from the lantern that the gatekeeper held up eye level so he could view the travelers without.  It was late.  Later than any one usually came calling and he wasn’t too indisposed to opening the large barricade.  It was cold out and he was sleepy.  His irritation with the intruders showed through.

 

“What do you want?”  He questioned again grumpily.

 

Aragorn stepped up, blocking the man’s view of the elves.  “We would like to come in.  We’re headed for the Prancing Pony.”

 

“Well it’s a might late.”  The small door cracked open wider as the old gatekeeper glanced around the ranger.  “There’s talk of wights about.  The townsfolk don’t like the gate opened any more after sundown, it’s not safe.”

 

“Do we look like wights to you?” Legolas stepped forward into the shaft of dim light, allowing the man to view him more fully.  When he spoke his voice was lower and deeper, not as soft as it normally was. 

 

Aragorn glanced at his friend out of the corner of his eyes.  Rarely did the elf speak when they entered human towns, but his time in Harad and with the Gondorians had made him bolder, more used to dealing with humans and concealing himself among them.

 

“Well...” The older man behind the barricade eyed the elf hard, “Not to me you don’t, but then I ain’t one that’s seen them devils.”  The small window slammed quickly and forcefully shut.  In moments the doors of Bree opened slowly and the threesome were allowed entry.  “Now don’t let me hear of you starting no trouble in town.  I shouldn’ta let you in but...”

 

“You’ll not hear of us causing any stir.”  Aragorn promised, waiting as Elladan stepped inside the doorway.  He followed the elves up the street to the local tavern.

 

“See that I don’t!” the care taker called after them.  Something still felt wrong about him letting the strangers in, but he had seen the ranger before, so he was less inclined to keep them out.  Shaking his head he stepped back into his small house adjacent to the gates and lit his pipe once more.  Everyone was just too on edge lately.

 

The lights from the Prancing Pony spilled into the dirty streets of Bree, their cheerful yellow cast belying the goings on within the Inn.

 

Aragorn pushed the door open and waded into the sea of humanity just on the other side. Men were pressed up against the bar, drinking pints of ale as they bemoaned the day’s labors.  Others were gathered about circular tables, telling each other tales some of which were true and some that were suspect.  The smoke from pipes hung thick about the middle of the room choking the air and the small confines smelled from the closely pressed bodies that occupied the tavern.  Many found it a welcoming, cheery place, and Aragorn himself was no exception.  However, the ranger knew from experience that while comfortable to men and Halflings, elves did not take to these settings particularly well.

 

Elladan stopped on the threshold of the door, catching his breath as the sounds and smells assaulted him.  Half in, half out of the bar he stopped, taking it all in.  There was something disturbing to the elven senses about the clamor and disorderly atmosphere.  If it hadn’t been for Legolas’ hand in the small of his back he might have stood there all night until someone pushed him out of the way.  The gentle pressure from the elven prince caused the twin to refocus on the sight of his retreating human brother and he stumbled into the bar. Making his way to the table in the corner that Aragorn had chosen he dropped stiffly into the chair that the ranger kicked out for him.  Estel was right; the atmosphere here was entirely different than what he was accustomed to, even in his many dealings with the mortal race.  It was just a building full of humans, he didn’t know why it made him so hesitant, but it did.

 

Legolas seated himself on Aragorn’s right and immediately began to look over the tavern.  As usual the ranger had chosen a well-placed section of the bar to sit in.  They were at a round table, out of the way towards the back of the room, with a good view of the door and all the occupants.  Only one small corner to Legolas’ right was obscured by the brick firepit that smoked away, heating the already too warm room. 

 

The elf prince felt no reservation about these settings anymore, he had long ago learned to tune out the elements of chaos that were initially disturbing and see beyond them.  The Prancing Pony was actually far more pleasant a place than some of the seedy, cutthroat little pubs he had seen in the south.

 

“You all right?”  Aragorn softly asked his brother, his voice not even audible over the din in the tavern.  Only an elf would have heard the question.

 

Huge, dark eyes fastened on his own and Elladan nodded slightly, “Yes.” He answered, although it was not the entirely truth.  He had never in his life entered an establishment like this, not even in the company of the Beornings or the other rangers.  It was an unsettling place.  Nothing he couldn’t handle, but unsettling.  More than anything it irritated him that his brother had been right about how unnerving it was.  He supposed however he would get over it... but it would involve thinking up something clever to do to Estel for dragging him in here. 

 

The ranger read the single word reply as it passed across the elf’s lips before redirecting his attention to the bartender who was moving in their direction. 

 

A knowing glance passed between Legolas and Aragorn and the human kicked his chair back casually, balancing on the back legs as he liked to do and affecting an air of disinterest as he began watching the occupants of the room.

 

“What’ll it be?”  The bartender squinted at the three men, sizing them up.  He was a large man in stature and girth and the shadow of a beard colored his face.  Unkempt dark hair spilled into his eyes where his locks were too long, he was definitely in need of a hair cut and a good bathing, but his eyes were quick and bright as he glanced over the newcomers.  He was drying an ale cup with the edges of the apron he wore.  The garment was stained and filthy and Elladan grimaced as he watched the man from the shadows of the hood that concealed his features.

 

“House brew.”  Legolas replied simply, his shoulders slumped, his voice rough as he threw the answer offhandedly at the man.  He broke eye contact and glanced casually over at a small brawl that erupted in the far corner of the establishment.

 

Elladan was quietly intrigued by how very little Legolas actually resembled the elf he knew him to be at the moment.  Just what exactly had his brother and the prince been up to over the years?

 

“Damn that Braxt.  You give him too many and this is how he acts, every night.  You think I’d throw him out when he shows his face in here.”  The man turned back to the patrons in front of him.  “Sister’s husband.” He answered the question no one had asked nor cared about.

 

The ranger he recognized and didn’t bother to ask what the Dunadan wanted, he already knew, but their hooded companion hadn’t spoken.

 

“And you?”  The bartended pointed the cup he held at Elladan.

 

Once again the elf froze, not knowing quite how to respond.  He didn’t drink the foul mead that men did and was certain they served nothing he would recognize.  Startled, he turned towards Aragorn.

 

“He’ll have a house brew, Jansit.”  Aragorn answered the bartender causally.  “Now where’s that son of yours, young Barliman?  How come you haven’t got him working down here with you?  Seems you could use the help.”  The ranger eyed the four men that had just noisily spilled into the bar, demanding ale.

 

“Now you just don’t take no nevermind to my son.” Jansit Butterbur frowned at the man, ignoring the new customers, “I know you rangers, Strider, making off with people’s kids to help fill out your ranks.  Well you’ll not be getting mine!  He has a future!  All this here’s gonna be his one a these days.”

 

With a laugh Aragorn let his chair fall back down onto all four legs and leaned across the table fixing the bartender with a devilish grin, “Where *do* you get your stories Jansit?  I can’t believe you listen to those old biddies gossiping.  You put enough of that brew of yours in them, you can get them to say anything about a body, you know that.”

 

With a snort of derision the bartender turned and walked away, “You’re all getting house brew tonight,” He called over his shoulder, “and I’ll not hear nothing to the contrary!”

 

Aragorn laughed and patted Elladan on the arm.  “That was good.”

 

“Estel *what* am I supposed to be doing?  Why have you dragged me here?”  The elf locked his gaze on the human as Aragorn tipped back in his chair, once more relaxing into the atmosphere, letting the patrons around them forget they were there.  He could tell his brother was anxious and tried to put him at ease.

 

“I want you to listen.”  He glanced casually at the elf out of the corner of his eyes, slowly moving his head until he was staring straight at his brother.  The action was deliberate and off handed - it garnered little attention.  “At first you may find it hard to do.” His voice was barely audible over the noise in the room, but he kept it down, teaching the elf by his example how to concentrate on one voice at a time, “Just like you are listening to me, listen to each of the conversations.  Hear what they are talking about.  We are looking for any tips on the doings of the wights in these parts.” 

 

Aragorn glanced up as Jansit walked back towards them and deposited three mugs of ale onto the middle of the table, the thick mead sloshed over the sides.

 

“Drink up boys.”  He muttered as he walked away wiping his hands on his apron.

 

Leaning forward Aragorn grabbed a brimming mug and took a deep draught of the drink.  His focus turned suddenly outward as he began scrutinizing the men around them, weeding out the braggarts and the obviously drunk.  Someone here just had to have information, and in a group this large and diverse someone would be willing to talk.

 

It had been sometime that they had been sitting at the table with no results when Legolas reached over and gently touched Aragorn’s arm with the tips of his finger.  His gaze caught the ranger’s and redirected the man’s attention to a table in the far corner.  What looked like a group of farmers were trading stories animatedly among themselves, most of them talking around the tips of pipes shoved into their mouths that they chewed on as they spoke.

 

Elladan tuned into the conversation when he saw Aragorn’s sudden interest.

 

“What are they saying?”  Aragorn whispered.

 

Legolas shook his head slightly, shushing the man with the motion; he had missed out on what the older grey haired man had just spoken.

 

“The old farmer says that it’s the Curse of Angmar, come back to haunt them.”  Elladan replied, whispering as he concentrated on hearing through chaos of the room.

 

“Nah Fildred, you’ve been out there working in the heat too long.” The younger farmer at his elbow replied causing his companions to laugh and jostle one another good-naturedly.

 

“You mark my word Tilden.”  Fildred replied, unruffled by the taunting, “It’s the work of the curse, stirring them up again.  Why we haven’t had so much trouble with the wights since the flood of 2941.  Over ran their homes the water did and haven’t never seen anything so mad as they were.  Livestock and people gone missing.  Some never heard from again.”  The older gent chewed on the end of his pipe letting his words sink in.

 

“Old wives tales, didn’t never happen,” another of their companions snorted.  He was more or less ignored. 

 

“Old Breidy, he lost him a good horse two nights ago.  Got stuck riding past the downs after dark.  Cart threw a wheel stopped him up good.”  A farmer across the table spoke up.  “Said it was terrible frightening.  Claims they came from out of nowhere.  Says the thing wasn’t alone.”

 

“Ain’t nothing good goes on in them barrows after sundown.”  Chimed another fellow.

 

“Never heard of wights working together.”  Tilden commented quietly.  “Nor leaving their barrows.”

 

“Me neither, but from what Breidy said they weren’t in no mood to tolerate him.  They set up a fierce wailing all about and the horse bolted, never saw him again.  When he tried to get away, said there was a loud sound and a lot of light.  Devil’s fire!  Springing out of the earth or maybe called down out of the sky, he weren’t sure which.  Knocked him senseless it did.  Woke up over near the Brandywine with nothing but his breeches.”  The farmer speaking glanced at Fildred and they both nodded knowingly, “Hasn’t been outta his house since then.  The missus says it threw him mighty good it did.”

 

“It’s the curse I tell ya.”  Fildred repeated, pulling a deep breath on his pipe, and holding the sweet smoke in his lungs before exhaling slowly.

 

Talk turned from the barrows to the weather and deteriorated from there.  Legolas tuned the conversation out and turned back to Aragorn.  Elladan had relayed everything he had heard and Legolas quietly filled in the parts the elven twin had missed.

 

“Sounds like our wights alright.”  Aragorn leaned forward over his pint, resting his chin on his hands.  “But I’ve never heard of wights doing what these do.  And what is this curse of Angmar?  I am not very familiar with the legend or our evil friends.”

 

Elladan glanced at Legolas but the elf shrugged, he had heard of Angmar, but most of the history on this side of the Misty Mountains had not been the subject of dinner talk around his family table nor included in his training.

 

With an understanding nod, Elladan moved closer to Aragorn and proceeded to tell him what he knew.

 

“Father has spoken of them a few times.  You know that the barrows were originally burial chambers used by the men, your ancestors Estel, in ancient days when Arnor was young.  Later, after the wars with Angmar and its final destruction, the barrows were used by the Cardolan and the Dunèdain to bury their dead.  Great men were laid to rest there and it was a good place.”

 

Aragorn nodded, this much he had heard.  He loved sitting near his father and hearing the tales of old. 

 

“Angmar was the domain of the Witch King, chief of the Nazgûl, and he did not accept his defeat well.  Bitter over his losses and still warring with the remnants of Arnor, he sent evil spirits to inhabit the Barrows and they became a place of horror, avoided by all who traveled through downs.  The wights themselves are rumored to inhabited the bodies of the deceased men who had been buried there, fostering a multitude of tall tales and untruths that begin circulating, only adding to the fear and confusion.”

 

Legolas felt involuntarily chilled at the mention of the ringwraith’s name.

 

Elladan continued, oblivious to the prince’s reaction, “They have ever been in opposition to all men, in accordance with their master’s wishes, but they are never hesitant to take whatever poor soul happens by and enslave that one to their own will, binding them up and covering them with the sleep of the dead.  To some, the wights became known as the Curse of Angmar and they exist to this day.  No one has been able to overcome them.  There are rumors and old wives tales of the wights walking through the Shire and the outlying regions, but they are unconfirmed.  From what I know, wights do not leave their barrows but wait for unsuspecting souls to pass close enough to catch them in their snares or lure them in with the promise of treasures.  Many a gold seeker has walked the barrows and never been heard from since.  What they do with their captives no one really knows for no one has ever escaped who was caught.”  He paused thinking hard, “At least not that I have heard of.”  Elladan shrugged and glanced about them, finishing recounting what he knew of the ancient history of these parts. 

 

“Well that would make a lovely tale to tell around a dark campfire some night...” Aragorn murmured.  “I’m surprised you and Elrohir never told me about that when I was young and you delighted in trying to scare the daylights out of me whenever we were out in the woods alone.”

 

Elladan chuckled.  “There are some things brother, that even El and I wouldn’t joke about.”  Sitting back in his seat the elf glanced up as Jansit walked back over to their table.

 

“Another round perhaps?” The bartender questioned.  He carried four brimming mugs with him.

 

The bar was beginning to clear out and those not leaving were sleeping loudly where they had fallen.

 

Strider shook his head, downing the last of his drink quickly.  He started to rise but stopped as Jansit set the pints down on the table and seated himself across from the ranger.

 

No one spoke for a few moments.  The local bartender rarely joined any of his patrons at their tables and the look on the man’s face was not a jovial one.

 

Breaking the silence, the ranger spoke up as the last of the conscious but inebriated men pushed each other out the tavern door.  It swung back heavily on its hinges and clanged shut.

 

“What can I do for you Jansit?” Strider asked warily.

 

The rotund man glanced between the strangers on either side of the human that sat across from him.  He didn’t trust them, but despite his low opinion of the rangers, it was undeniable that they at least were usually willing to poke their noses in where sane men feared to venture.  Jansit’s desire to confide in the other man finally overcame his hesitancy.

 

“Why are you here Strider?” He answered the question with one of his one.  “I haven’t seen you in years.”

 

“Passing through.”  The man answered casually.  Although his outward appearance affected a manner of disinterest, his curiosity was heightened.  Jansit never carried on much of a conversation with him other than the usual pleasantries; but tonight the bartender seemed anxious and worried.  “The wilds get tiring.  We wanted some of your house brew.  Why do you ask?”

 

“I think there’s more.”  Jansit glanced first at Elladan and then at Legolas.  “Your drinking company makes me think there is for one.  Not your usual fare.” 

 

Elladan stiffened, but Aragorn gently touched his thigh with the fingers of his left hand.

 

“What of them?  I thought you didn’t care who you served.”  The ranger’s voice took on a hard edge and the tone wasn’t lost on the Bree-lander as he shifted uncomfortably under Strider’s scrutiny.

 

With a sigh the bartender leaned forward and lowered his voice even though the patrons left were sleeping, dead to the world.  He needed to confide in someone and he was hoping that his suspicions were correct. 

 

“There’s talk about.  The wights are stirred up so they say.  My Flossie came home late two nights ago.  I thought she was already in-city before the gates were closed or I’da been out there looking for her.  Said she was attacked by...by things that glowed.  They tried to catch her but she’s not one for giving in easy and she made it to the gate, but not ‘fore the wits were scared out of her.  Said there was some sort of explosion and light and noise, almost made her loose her bearings.  They made off with the new milking cow she had just purchased.  Poor beast bolted on her.  She’s made of stern stuff my Flossie, but she’s still getting over the shock.  Barliman’s stayin’ home with her full time ‘til she gets back on her feet.”

 

He paused and glanced between his listeners.  Strider leaned forward and nodded, encouraging him on.  “I’m not thinking it’s the wights.  My family has lived here for years.  The wights haven’t been this active since my great-great grandfather was alive if the stories be true.  And what would they want with animals eh?  ‘Twas always people they wanted in the old tales, not goods.  But all the peoples’ been left so far.  Doesn’t make sense no if you’re asking me.”

 

“And you’re thinking...” Legolas prompted the man when he stopped.

 

“I ain’t so sure it ‘tis the wights, if you catch my meaning.  That’s all.”  Jansit took a swallow of the mead and leveled his gaze on Strider.

 

The ranger didn’t speak or answer the unspoken question just yet. He was thinking about all that he had heard and just how much he should tell the bartender.

 

“You are here to look into it aren’t you?”  Jansit’s tone was cautiously inquiring, but his eyes were practically begging.  “I mean it’s an awful coincidence.”  He motioned at the elves on either side of the ranger, “And coming with friends as you have...”

 

Elladan looked at Strider, his face hidden from all the others by the hood, but his brother could see the elf’s eyes.  “Tell him.  He’s afraid.”  The twin mouthed the words.  Aragorn barely nodded, it couldn’t hurt to have someone in town helping them out.  Before he could speak, and to his great surprise, Elladan slowly slid the hood off of his head and stared at Jansit.

 

The man sat up a bit straighter, pushing back slightly from the table.  “Well I’ll be.”  The bartender glanced around them quickly but they were alone in the tavern.  “An elf.  Haven’t seen the likes of your kind here in... well ever really.”  The man relaxed a bit and squinted at Legolas, “So what would you be?”

 

“A friend.”  Strider commented quickly with a wry smile.  “And in answer to your question Jansit, yes we are here because of the rumors of the wights.  I wasn’t fully convinced it was them either, but the stories we’ve heard tonight and your own corroboration is pointing to something else; something pretending to be wights.  If I had to guess, I’d hazard that you have a band of highway men camped out hereabouts.”

 

“Flossie won’t leave the town until they’ve gone for good and we are in mighty terrible need of a cow, as ours took ill last month.”  Jansit frowned and glanced down. “Anything I can do to help?”

 

“Keep your ears open.  See if you can find out anything from your patrons.  They talk and they aren’t quiet about what they know.  If you hear of anything suspicious or see anyone in town that you don’t recognize, let me know. I’ll check in from time to time.”  The ranger answered with a small nod that was echoed by the Bree-lander.  “We’ll be about and we’ll get to the bottom of this.  Give us some time.”  Scooting his chair back and standing stiffly to his feet, Aragorn leaned across the table and shook the large man’s hand.  “Give Flossie my greetings and tell her not to worry.”

 

“Think I’ll tell her after you’ve gone.  You think these men are bad,” Jansit chuckled.  Motioning with his thumb, he pointed over his shoulder at the men who were crashed across the tops of tables or laid out on the flooring sleeping, “you should hear them women when they get together!  But I’ll tell her she doesn’t have to worry so much anymore.”  Accepting the ranger’s proffered hand he shook it.  “Thanks Strider.”  The words were gruff, but sincere.  Jansit may have been leery of rangers, but having dangerous folk on your side was a good thing in dangerous times.

 

Legolas and Elladan took their cues as the ranger glanced at them.  Elladan quickly flipped the hood back over his head, tucking his hair around his ears and flashed the bartender a smile.

 

“It was good meeting you...er...” Jansit fished for a name.

 

“Another thing you can just keep between us.”  Aragorn cautioned the man with a smile as he brushed past the Bree-lander, pushing the elf out in front of him.

 

“Can’t blame a man for being curious.”  Jansit laughed as he straightened his apron, cleaning the table of the now empty mugs as Strider left the bar with the two elves in tow.  “Just ain’t everyday that a body gets to meet an elf around here.” His muttered conversation to himself was cut off as the three stepped out into the darkened streets of Bree.

 

“That was risky.”  Aragorn turned to Elladan as they walked towards the gate.

 

“He needed to know Estel.  These people are living in fear and those are no wights that are attacking them.  I am almost sure of it.”  Elladan shrugged.  “Besides he seemed honest enough and he appeared to trust you more than your appearance deserves.  Sometimes trusting is risky.”

 

“It will help to have someone inside the town watching for us.  Another pair of eyes and ears couldn’t hurt.”  Legolas commented quietly, walking on the other side of Aragorn.

 

“And you wondered *why* I asked the two of you to come with me.”  Aragorn smiled impishly as he lifted the heavy crossbar on the gates, silently letting himself and the elves out of the sleeping town. 

 

The old man who kept the gates heard them snick shut and fell out of bed, rushing to the barred wooden doors as the crossbeam fell back into place with a heavy thunk.  Cautiously opening the small window he peered into the predawn dark but saw nothing, not even the whisper of a shadow moving.  Glancing warily about him he crept back to bed hoping things would be all right in the morning.

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART SIX*~

 

 

 

Legolas glanced up at the pattern of stars overhead and grimaced.  The heavenly shift in the lights told him they had been hidden on the fringes of the barrows for about three hours now and nothing had stirred.

 

“Stop that.” Aragorn whispered from his crouched position next to the elf.  “You looked at the stars only five minutes ago. Five minutes, no more, have passed since the last time you checked.”

 

“We will find nothing here tonight as we have not for the past three nights.” Legolas countered fiercely, his voice barely audible.

 

“He’s right Estel.”  Elladan rolled over in the grass, giving the ranger a good view of Elrohir who was seated just beyond his twin, idly chewing on the end of a piece of the long grass which hid them.  The dark haired twin nodded agreeing with his brother.

 

With a sigh Aragorn sat up, giving way his position.  Seeing their hiding places revealed, Halbarad dropped lightly from a tree not far off to their left.  He had sent Arendur back west to see how the other rangers fared.  A runner had met up with them just last night to inform the Chieftain that the source of the warg invasions had not been curbed.  They needed help and badly.  To his deep regret there had been none to give.  What Aragorn and the elves had turned up in Bree had worried him.  If they had a group of highwaymen, waylaying unsuspecting travelers it was no light business and needed to be dealt with now before their operation could expand.  And if by some strange chance they truly did have a reawakening of wights on their hands... they would cross that bridge when they came to it.  So he had opted to remain with the others and sent Arendur back in his stead.  The lad was headstrong and prone to quick judgments, but he was loyal and nearly as stealthy as an elf.

 

Standing up slowly from his crouched landing position, Halbarad approached the elves that had seated themselves around the other Dunadan and were talking quietly.  They glanced from time to time out across the barrows, but the valley was quiet.  Nothing stirred.  The deep night fog swirled around the dew-coated mounds that dotted the glen, but of the wights or their suspected human imposters there was no sign.

 

“What do you suggest Strider?”  The older ranger seated himself on a rock and stared down at the group of companions.

 

“I don’t know.” The younger man answered, throwing up his hands in a gesture of hopelessness. “If it *was* the wights they should be out after us right now.  If it is not as we suspect... then they are terribly good at hiding themselves.”  He glanced over his shoulder into the valley before flopping backwards in the grass, all but disappearing from Halbarad’s sight, hidden by the long spines.  He stared into the night sky fixing his gaze on Eärendil before it was blocked from sight by an inquisitive elven face.

 

Legolas parted the leafy fronds and stared down at the human, “Estel?”

 

“Oh lets just call it a night.  I’m tired.” The ranger mumbled.

 

Next to him Elladan sat up straighter and glanced at Elrohir, “Did you hear that El?”

 

Legolas was suddenly alert, listening to something as well that neither of the humans could hear.

 

“What? What is it?”  Aragorn sat back up, instantly keenly aware.

 

“Thunder.” Elrohir whispered.

 

The two humans glanced into the clear starry night.  Not a cloud glimmered anywhere over the area and from their vantage point they could see for miles in all directions.

 

“No.”  Legolas leapt to his feet, gazing hard to the west.  “It is not thunder.  There it is again!  Aragorn!”  He called to the human to follow as he raced off through the woods.  Elladan and Elrohir were right on his heels.  The humans trailed farther behind, taken off guard by the elves’ sudden departure.  It was easy to follow the gently glowing shapes as they dodged through the woods, ducking branches and leaping lightly over fallen limbs.  Though the way was more difficult for the humans to traverse, they easily kept up.

 

At the outskirts of the Old Forest the three elves halted and walked more slowly.  They picked their path cautiously now and hesitantly entered the thick woods.  It was silent and deathly still beneath the dark canopy.  Here the winds held a slightly sulfuric scent and Elrohir stopped.  Turning, he backtracked their path.  Aragorn joined him, reading the signs in the earth by the glow of his soft light. 

 

“Here.”  Strider dropped to the ground and gently fingered a square of charred blackened earth. “Elrohir, over here.”

 

In moments the ranger was surrounded by three softly glowing bodies.  Their combined light aided his tracking skills but the patch of raw earth confused him.  Here the smell of sulfur and fire was strongest.  The tips of the leaves above their heads were singed black as though a great fire had reached up and touched them before immediately going out. Nothing save for the ground beneath the ranger’s fingers and the trees above bore the marks of what had transpired and the earth underneath his hand was still warm.

 

Pushing the elves back farther away from him and silencing their curiosity, Strider began searching the dew-covered ground for more clues.  It was obvious that whatever had been here was no wight for there were boot tracks all over the small area where they stood, only a few feet from the road that led up to Bree.  Someone had run into the woods to hide.

 

Aragorn pressed his fingers into the deep indentations of a man’s bootprint.

 

“He ran in here.  Towards this place.”  The ranger whispered quietly, not at all confident they were alone.  “And this is where he stopped as well.  But there were others.  Many.  It is hard to tell.”  His hand swept over the grass gently moving it, trying to read the impressions.

 

“Strider!”  Halbarad called softly, pointing to the ground in front of him a few feet from where Aragorn crouched. “Here.  I think they went through here.”

 

The younger ranger dashed over and knelt where Halbarad had indicated.  Indeed it was as the older man said.  The footprints here were heavier than anywhere else and they led towards the edge of the Baranduin River.

 

Quickly they followed the tracks, the sounds of the river growing ever louder as they approached.

 

Legolas’ gasp alerted Aragorn first.  The keen elven eyes had seen through the dark what it took the ranger a split second more to see - the form of a man lying on the ground.

 

Darting forward Strider dropped next to the prone figure.  The man lay on his stomach, his shirt and shoes had been removed.  A nasty spreading bruise near his temple cause Aragorn to draw his breath in sharp hiss.  It was obvious this was the victim of whatever had happened back near the road.  A black powdery substance coated one of his arms.

 

Gently the ranger turned the man over and quickly examined him for any broken bones.  Legolas dropped down next to Estel and glanced at his friend.

 

“Does he live?” The question was spoken in elvish.

 

“Yes,” Aragorn answered softly, gingerly touching the man’s bruised temple, “but I have a feeling that he will wish he had not when he awakens.”

 

“We should get him to the town and quickly.” The elf whispered, trying to listen to their surroundings.

 

Legolas glanced up as Halbarad approached them. “There is no one in the woods.  They have left.  Garnering whatever this poor soul had that was worth taking.”

 

“Tracks?”  Aragorn shifted the unconscious man into a sitting position and tucked his shoulder into the man’s chest.  Aided by Legolas he stood, lifting the man with him and easily carrying him over his shoulder.

 

“Oh there are plenty.”  Halbarad replied with a snort of disgust “And they have been trampled and crisscrossed and completely marred.”  He shook his head and glanced around them as though looking for answers in the trees themselves, “Whoever it was, was smart and they covered their tracks well.  There will be no following them tonight.”

 

“Very well.”  Aragorn shifted his burden gently and followed Elladan and Elrohir out of the forest.  Legolas walked beside him, watchful if the human should need help.  “Let us go.”

 

The trip back to Bree took twice as long since Aragorn could not run under the weight he carried.

 

When they reached the wooden gates of the town, Strider cautioned the elves to remain hidden in the woods.  The Bree-landers would be wary and when they realized what had happened once more.  They would be suspicious of anything out of the ordinary, and to the men in these parts, elves were highly out of the ordinary.

 

Stepping up to the doors, Halbarad banged his fist hard against the small portal making the gates jump.

 

“Open up! We have a wounded man here!” The ranger shouted.  His deep voice carrying through the night and cutting straight through the gatekeepers sleep.

 

“What?!” The sound of the old man’s sleepy voice brought a smile to Aragorn’s face.  He could hear the gatesman fall out of bed and stumble towards the door, cursing softly as he groped for a light. “What do you want!? It past midnight, you may not enter!”

 

This was not the same guard who had admitted the ranger and his friends several days ago.  Aragorn did not recognize his voice.

 

“We have one of your townsfolk, I believe.  He was waylaid near the old forest and is in need of medical aide.  Let us in.”  Halbarad glanced back at his younger companion, stifling a smile as they heard the gatesman’s clumsy attempts to light a lantern.  “Hurry up!”

 

“You’re going to give him a heart attack.”  Aragorn shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the man he carried.  “He’s old you know.”

 

At this Halbarad did laugh, turning back to the gates he prepared to pound on them again for it had grown strangely quiet behind them. When Aragorn gasped and dropped to the ground, he spun around startled.  His charge was waking.

 

“Halbarad!”

 

Gently he laid the man on the path and quietly spoke to the confused Bree-lander as he regained consciousness.

 

“Where am I?” the man slurred.

 

“Shhh...it is well.  We have brought you to Bree.” Aragorn held the man’s head firmly between his hands giving the human a bit of stability as his vision swam.  He sucked his breath in quickly and held it as his body began to register pain. 

 

“Where does it hurt?”  The ranger’s voice was calm and soothing.

 

“My head right now mostly.”  The man whispered tightly, “But I ache all over.”

 

“I bet you do.”  Aragorn turned as the gates were thrown open and four men spilled out holding torches and brandishing farm tools; more than likely the first thing they could grab at such short notice. 

 

“Stay still, help is here.”  The ranger soothed.  Obviously the gateskeeper had gone for others, fearful of opening the doors at such a late hour.

 

A fifth man brushed through the others, roughly parting them as he finished tying off a robe around his waist.  “I’m the doctor. What’s going on here?”  Behind him, the gateskeeper peeked around the edge of the doors leery of the strangers.

 

“We found this man near the Baranduin.  It seems he has been waylaid by bandits.”  Halbarad explained as the short, round man knelt next to Aragorn.  Large spectacles sat across a pinched face, but the doctor’s eyes were kind and the ranger smiled at the sleepy man.

 

“Bright light... like lightening,” the semi-conscious man murmured.  “So many of them... glowing...”

 

“Shhh, rest now.  He was unconscious when we found him.”  Aragorn turned back as the murmuring around them increased.

 

“That weren’t no bandit doings.” One bystander commented darkly, “Sounds like them wights.”

 

Comments to the affirmative could be heard and they were no longer listening to Halbarad as he tried to calm them.

 

Leaving the Bree-lander with the doctor, Aragorn rose to his feet and joined the other ranger.  “Here now, it was no wight.  Listen to what Halbarad says.”

 

“What do you know of the goings on around here?”  The gatekeeper called out, “And when have the rangers ever been up to any good anyway?  This been happening regularly.  It ain’t nothing natural, you hear!  His clothes is gone ain’t they?  And all his possessions?  And the smell...” the men were beginning to get fearful, agreeing with the older man’s assessment, “That ain’t no natural smell that lingers with him.  It’s only about the wights’ victims!  You heard him!  Glowing?  No human round these parts knows how to call lighting down but I’d bet you those wights do.”  The weathered man nodded, agreeing with himself, glancing around them cautiously as though expecting a wight to appear at any moment.

 

“Now stop this at once!” Aragorn raised his voice against the growing assents.  “You have a man out here that needs help.  He was robbed by other men.  I saw the footprints myself.”  The ranger glanced from face to face and written on every one of them was doubt and fear.

 

“It doesn’t matter what attacked him.”  The doctor’s voice cut through the chaos, injecting a note of reason. “We need to get him inside.  It’s Brans, and his wife is going to be worried sick.  Someone send for her straight away and meet us at my house.”  He ignored the wounded man’s protests as Aragorn helped the doctor get him to his feet.  Another from the crowd stepped forward when the man was made known to them and took over for the ranger guiding them back through the growing throng of onlookers.

 

“Go back to your beds.”  Halbarad spoke above the crowd, “You will have nothing to fear from further tonight.  Whatever it is, it is gone for now.  Try not to be out after dark.  Go now, off with you all, this isn’t helping anything.”  The ranger turned the men at the front of the crowd around placing his hands on their shoulders and gently pushing them back inside the doors.  Aragorn was quietly reassuring others and motioning them back inside.

 

As the gatherers dispersed and the street quieted only the gatekeeper remained.

 

“That was foolish.”  Halbarad reprimanded him.  “What were you thinking? You could have had a riot on your hands.  You needed only to open the gates and let us in.”

 

“How was I to know you weren’t the wights or bandits yourself?”  the older man voice cracked as he questioned the rangers.  “You think this an easy job do you? Eh?”  He glared between them both, “Well it ain’t.”

 

“We meant no disrespect.” Aragorn calmed the man easily, “We are in the area and if we should come to the gates after dark we will tell you next time that it is us.  Your partner, the other gatekeeper, he knows me, you can ask him.  I am Strider.” He touched his hand to the other ranger’s shoulder, “And this Halbarad.  We are here to help you and to serve you, not make your job harder.”

 

“Well then next time see that you call out your names.”  The gatekeeper slowly closed the doors, stopping when they were barely open, “You could stop a fellow’s heart banging on the doors like that.”

 

“My apologies, I meant no ill to you.”  Halbarad confessed.

 

A moment of silence fell between them before the gatesman answered, “My name is Ralmit.  You...you didn’t want in tonight did you?”

 

Aragorn smiled easily, “No Ralmit, we’ll be on our way.”

 

They left the gatekeeper and walked back towards the woods where their elven companions were hidden.

 

Legolas stepped forward to greet them, pulling Aragorn into the deep shadows of the forest.  He glanced behind the rangers as the gatesman slowly closed the portal to the large wooden doors.  From his vantage point the older man could not have seen the elf but the prince had seen him and heard the entire conversation.

 

“Are you both all right?”  Elladan asked quietly.

 

With a smile Aragorn turned his brother back into the woods, his hand on the elf’s shoulder.  It always felt safe when he was with his oldest brother.  “Yes, we are fine Elladan.”

 

“It is good we did not accompany you.” Legolas spoke in hushed tones as he stepped lightly next to Strider.  “You were right about the townsfolk.”

 

“Rarely have we seen men act like that.”  Elrohir commented softly, matching his tone to Legolas’.  Something about the forest seemed to be warning him to silence.

 

“Well you just haven’t lived long enough, that’s all.” Aragorn taunted, moving closer to Legolas as his brothers took offense to the slight.  His laughter was infectious and in short order the elves had forgotten their nervousness and were easily teasing the young ranger.

 

“However do you stand one another?” Halbarad asked, laughing at the four of them, “You must surely drive Lord Elrond to insanity.”

 

His comments only caused further mirth and the older ranger simply shook his head, following in their wake as a new round of taunting took over, having to do with Mithrandir warning them all about rangers.

 

“Will you never grow up?”  Halbarad, playfully questioned.  His inquiry tickled the elves who turned their teasing with force upon the youngest member of the group.  Only Aragorn was no longer listening.

 

Stopping mid-step, Strider turned back and watched the forest behind them.  They were nearing their camp on the outskirts of Bree but the ranger got the distinct feeling that they were being shadowed.

 

Elladan glanced at his younger brother, still jesting, “Oh Estel, come now surely you didn’t take that personally?”

 

The younger human’s actions tipped off Halbarad who melted quietly into the forest on the ranger’s left.

 

“What is it Strider?” Legolas questioned softly, walking back to stand next to Aragorn.

 

“There is someone out there.” The Dunadan barely whispered.

 

Whatever else the elf had been going to ask was cut off as they heard Halbarad’s voice from the woods ahead of them.  “Why there you are! We’ve been looking...Hey!” the ranger’s easy going tone was cut off in surprise.

 

Aragorn rushed forward, meeting the older Dunadan as he stalked back to his companions.

 

“Halbarad! What was that?” Aragorn took the man by the arm and pressed the ranger behind him towards his brothers.

 

“It was that Bilbo Baggins, is what it was.”  The man replied sourly.  “Didn’t want to stay in camp apparently.  He’s been following us.  One moment he was there and the next moment he was simply gone.  I think I must have startled him.  But for the life of me, Strider, I have never seen a hobbit move that fast.”

 

Elladan glanced around them curiously, “Bilbo is odd, even for a hobbit.”

 

“I take exception to that!”  A small indignant voice piped up from behind the group.

 

“You were supposed to Master Baggins.” Elrohir chided as the small being stepped from the foliage, “But it’s true, you are not like most hobbits.  Ah, ah, ah! Don’t argue.”  The elf cut the little being off as he began to protest.  Elrohir was slightly perturbed with their uninvited guest.  “Exactly *what* were you doing shadowing us like that?  I thought you were going to wait for us in camp tonight.”

 

Bilbo glanced around the ring of elves and men and stood up a little straighter, pushing through them he began walking down the path to their camp.  “I *was* waiting for you.  You’re all late.  When you didn’t return I was worried, I thought you might have run into trouble so I went looking for you.”

 

“Bilbo, that was brave but foolish.”  Aragorn walked next to the Hobbit and frowned down at him, his words softened by the smile on his face, “You know there are highway men about.”

 

“Exactly,” the little hobbit commented seating himself next to the dead fire pit when they reached their destination. “I thought you might need some help.  A hobbit can come in handy now and again, they can.” 

 

Aragorn laughed as he passed Legolas his flint.  The elf struck a flame to the tower of logs the man had stacked in the center of the ring.

 

“That they can,” The younger ranger replied as he seated himself next to the hobbit, accepting back the flint as Legolas sat on the other side of him.  “Your concern is appreciated.”

 

The elves were still not pleased that the hobbit had been so able to approach them as he had. It disturbed Legolas greatly that the small being was so stealthy.  Something about it didn’t seem at all natural, but he supposed he was just surprised to have found someone who could actually be as quiet and invisible as an elf.

 

“So how did it go?”  Bilbo attempted to change the subject.

 

With a sigh, Strider gazed into the sparking fire.  He was beginning to grow frustrated with their attempts thus far.

 

“We have no way of knowing when or where the ‘wights’ will show up.  Waiting for them is useless,” Aragorn shook his head.  “All we can accomplish is to continue to arrive after they’ve already left.”

 

“You have another plan?” Elladan raised an eyebrow. 

 

Aragorn nodded grimly.  “Perhaps.  Rather than waiting for their next strike, let’s plan it for them.” 

 

“Bait!” Legolas caught the idea quickly.  “We lure them with something they cannot resist and then we see what manner of creatures we are up against.”

 

Aragorn smiled.  “Yes, we have already seen their mode of operation.  Living or spectral, these attackers go after goods: livestock, money, gold, jewels.  If they were to hear that one lone person was traveling through the downs, with quite a lot of money on him... I’m sure it would be too much temptation to resist.”

 

Elrohir nodded thoughtfully.  “Yes... of course it would have to be someone who was already rumored to be in possession of that kind of wealth so that they would believe it...”

 

Halbarad caught their thread and smiled.  “Someone they wouldn’t even think of being afraid of.”

 

“And someone who was good at being quiet and going unseen wouldn’t hurt either, as they would be out of the way all the easier when the trouble starts...” Legolas’ grin was impish.

 

Bilbo swallowed as he realized they were all looking at him.  “Surely you’re not suggesting...”

 

“Bilbo it’s perfect,” Elrohir shook his head.  “You know what the local people have said about you since you came back from the Lonely Mountain.  Everyone believes you’ve got a whole horde of gold stashed away somewhere.  It won’t take anything at all to play it up a bit.”

 

“W-well that’s all very easy for *you* to say, you’re not the one who has to be bait!” the hobbit stammered slightly.  “I’m getting too old for this kind of thing.”

 

“We won’t let anything happen to you, I promise,” Aragorn swore seriously, resting his hand lightly on the hobbit’s shoulder.  “We would never ask you to do it if we thought you would be in any real danger.  We would be with you the entire time, not more than a few lengths away.  As soon as our interloping wights show up we’ll be right there and catch them in the act.”

 

“Well that’s all very well if they’re actually something that can be caught...” Bilbo murmured, but his tone suggested that he was not really as hesitant as he seemed.

 

“You don’t have to do it; it is entirely up to you.”  Aragorn shook his head.  “But if you do, I swear to you on my honor I will keep you safe.”

 

The hobbit nodded slowly.  He did want to help and he trusted the elves and the ranger.  Besides, even though he would never admit it aloud he was always up for a good adventure.  There hadn’t been anything really interesting happening in these parts in quite some time and the Took-ish part of Bilbo was stirred by the prospect of something a little out of the ordinary.  “All right then.   Where ought we to start?”

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

It had taken a day or two to start the rumors, but Jansit had been very helpful on that count and now that everything was in place the time had come to put their plan into action. 

 

A rather nervous Bilbo Baggins set out from Bree in the morning after having stayed a few nights at the Prancing Pony. The hobbit seemed to be alone and was headed west towards the Shire... a course that took him directly towards the Downs.  What no one could see were the two rangers and three elves that followed quietly and unnoticed some distance away, blending into their surroundings like expert chameleons. 

 

The day went uneventfully, but as the evening shadows lengthened everyone became alert and on edge.  Night mists began to rise from the earth, hanging a low-slung vale over the darkening hills.  Then as the sun began to set they heard it for the first time... the low, unearthly wail that they had heard so many times described but never experienced for themselves. 

 

Aragorn froze, dropping down and scanning the area around them intently, but there was no movement, no sign of life save the one lone hobbit who had stopped very still some hundred yards away.  Bilbo had apparently pulled his sword, and although none of them knew it the fact that it was not glowing in the pale moonlight was a good sign.  At least no orcs or goblins were near. 

 

The wail came again and Aragorn felt Elladan’s hand close on his shoulder.  “That is no wolf, nor warg, but whatever it is there is more than one out there or else it moves very fast,” the elf whispered quietly in his younger brother’s ear.  “I feel no cloud of evil on my heart, but the cries are chilling to the bones.  This is a strange mystery we have here.”

 

Aragorn nodded, trying to decide the best course of action as the howls came again, this time more than one, seeming to come from far away and near at hand at the same time. 

 

Suddenly a bright, flaming shape zinged by Halbarad’s head and a burning dart stuck quivering into the tree beside them, lighting up their position like a beacon flare in the semi-twilight. 

 

Aragorn swore as they all drew their weapons and dropped to the ground, only just in time to avoid a silent hail of flaming arrows from somewhere behind them.  One caught the ranger’s cloak and he had to roll quickly to put it out.  “Blast!  They know we’re here!” he called to the others as they scrambled backward on their stomachs.  “We’ve got to get to Bilbo!”

 

Legolas twisted around on his stomach, trying to see where the shots were coming from, but even his sharp eyes could not pierce the darkness and the thick, growing mists.  Another flaming arrow struck the ground near his face, throwing up a burning spray of flaming oil and sparks.  The elf flinched and jerked, rolling swiftly away from the rising flames and smoke which only added to the night fog.  His cheek burned and he wiped at it furiously with his hand, but that didn’t seem to make the burning go away, rather it simply transferred it to his hand as well.  Citing a few highly colorful items of vocabulary, Legolas rubbed his hand and his cheek quickly in the dirt below him, wiping away the burning oil as best he could. 

 

Crawling swiftly to the other side of the tree where they had at least some cover from the flaming barrage, Aragorn jumped to his feet and scanned the area desperately for Bilbo as he drew his sword.  He had promised to keep the hobbit safe and he could not fail in that trust. 

 

“Bilbo?  Bilbo!” he called out, but the hobbit was no longer in the middle of the moon-lit dale.  In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. 

 

Legolas came up beside Aragorn, an arrow notched and ready on his bow strings.  “Where’s the hobbit?” he asked urgently, looking around.  It seemed as if their trap had backfired on them. 

 

“I don’t know,” Aragorn shook his head, ducking and dancing away as another flaming arrow struck too close.  They could see nothing now but the flames that were springing up in the grasses and trees around them.  The earth was not dry, but there seemed to be some kind of oil on the arrows that burned on its own power and spread like molten fire across anything it touched.  Legolas’ throbbing cheek was a painful reminder of that.

 

The strange wails came from all around them now, and yet they were still some ways off, scattered, taunting. 

 

“Split up!  We’ll make less of a target than together!” Aragorn called out to the others as their position was once again assaulted by another flaming volley.  “Halbarad, go with Elladan and Elrohir, try to get to those trees and work your way back to where these arrows are coming from.  Legolas, you’re with me, we have to find Bilbo!” 

 

Everyone sprung into motion instantly, accepting Aragorn’s leadership without question.  If there was one thing that being in the Gondorian army had taught the ranger, it was how to take charge and make snap decisions. 

 

Legolas followed his friend swiftly through the tall grass, watchful of further assault.  However the arrows seemed to have stopped for the most part and the smoldering fires behind them began to subside, smoking black and thick up into the moon-lit night. 

 

They reached the open road where Bilbo had last been seen in a matter of moments.  Aragorn scoured the ground as best he could in the pale light, but he saw no recent tracks save that of the hobbit and those did not go very far.  In fact they really seemed to have gone up to a certain point and then vanished, but it was hard for Aragorn to be sure in the scant moon light and with his eyes still stinging from the smoke.

 

Legolas stood guard while his friend searched, bow drawn taught and ready.  The ranger straightened up, meeting the elf’s questioning gaze and shook his head.  “I don’t know what I’m seeing here Legolas.  No one’s been here but he’s gone.”

 

“Not too gone yet,” Bilbo’s voice spoke up from behind Aragorn and the ranger started and whirled around. 

 

Legolas blinked several times.  He had been looking straight in that direction a moment ago, until he looked up at Aragorn.  He had no idea where the hobbit could have come from. 

 

“I hid when all the fire and the voices started,” Bilbo explained quickly, his hand twitching somewhat nervously in his waistcoat pocket as if fiddling with something.  “Where are the others?  Is it wights?”

 

“I don’t know,” Aragorn turned slowly around once more, scanning the darkened landscape as another low howl broke out.  The fire from the arrows had all but died down and there was no sign of either their attackers or the rest of their party. 

 

The dark earth was uncannily still.  Not even the birds or the crickets sang. 

 

Aragorn and Legolas traded uneasy glances as the unearthly wail came again, nearer at hand.  Bilbo looked fit to faint although his hand rested firmly on the hilt of the small sword at his side.  The other hand remained in his pocket... just in case.

 

“I don’t like this,” the elf whispered.

 

“Neither do I,” the ranger glanced warily around the mist-shrouded plains, speckled in cloudy moonlight.  “Perhaps we should not have split up... if they wanted to lure us apart this was a good way to do it.”

 

Legolas nodded.  “We had better find the others.”

 

The three of them made their way cautiously towards the woods that the rest of their party had made for.  The air was cool but disturbed.  Thunder rumbled in the distance but none of them could be sure if it was the friction of the coming storm that charged the air or their own tension that made the hair on the backs of their neck stand on end.

 

“Perhaps I should go for help,” Bilbo suggested quietly.  “I won’t be much use to you in a fight if it comes to that.”

 

Aragorn admired the bravery of the offer, but could not allow the risk.  “Too dangerous.  Alone they could easily pick you off.”

 

“If they could see me...” the hobbit murmured quietly, but kept the rest of his thoughts to himself as the woods pressed in close around them. 

 

The trees made dark and imposing shapes amid the night mists as they moved warily along, calling softly for Halbarad and the twins. 

 

Legolas’ fingers tensed on his weapon.  Something was close.  Something was very close... all around them it felt like, but he could see nothing. 

 

Aragorn sensed it too and shifted uneasily.  “Bilbo,” he whispered.  “If we run into trouble and you have the chance, run.  No, don’t protest,” the ranger waved off the smaller being’s indignant retort.  “I’m not casting doubt on your courage, but I don’t yet know what we are up against.”

 

Suddenly, silently, as if called by mention of the unknown, the trees came alive with white, glowing shapes.  The almost translucent, frightening apparitions seemed to appear out of nowhere amid the tree branches and with a trilling yell they dropped down in a thick circle around the elf, the man and the hobbit.  There was a frightful flash and a deafening boom that shook the ground, nearly knocking Aragorn and Legolas off their feet. 

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART SEVEN*~

 

 

Glowing spots and after-trails of the small, but searing explosion wavered before the elf and the ranger’s vision, partially obscuring their attackers who were already on them.  Legolas realized with a start that they were far too close for his bow to be much good, but stabbed quickly at one of the apparitions with the arrow in his hand before drawing his knives.  The arrow cut through the white, gauzy substance covering the being and a red stain welled up around the injury.  Whatever their assailants were, they were not supernatural in nature.

 

“Aragorn, they bleed!” Legolas said hurriedly as he was forced to defend himself against several attackers at once.  The ambusher’s weapons and the skill with which they were being wielded with was also very real. 

 

Aragorn rolled under the sweeping blow of one and crossed blades with another.  He heard Legolas’ words and found the news heartening.  At least flesh and blood they could fight.  He glanced over and saw that the elf was holding his own, but when the ranger sought the whereabouts of their other companion, he found that Bilbo had once again disappeared.  Blast!  He was sure he had seen him right there a moment ago.  That hobbit was the hardest being he had ever tried to keep track of!  He hoped that Bilbo had followed his instructions and managed to run away in the confusion of the attack, he hadn’t seen any of the attackers leave or break off, so it was unlikely that he had been carried away.

 

The elf and the ranger stood back to back, each covering the other’s back as they moved as one in a tight, unbreakable knot of deadly grace.  They had not fought side by side for so many years without becoming quite a formidable duo.  Their time literally bound to one another in Mordor not so very long ago had only strengthened that working relationship and they moved as one. 

 

Legolas’ sharp ears picked up on a soft noise that at first sounded like the crackling sizzle of something burning, but he smelled no smoke.  Their attackers seemed to be pulling back, which was strange because the white-clad beings still had them heavily outnumbered and at the disadvantage even if they couldn’t break through the duo’s defenses. 

 

Suddenly a small, square, box like object, no bigger than a man’s hand was thrown by one of the white-clad attackers and landed between the elf and the ranger.  It did not seem very threatening, but some voice of warning shouted loudly in Aragorn’s mind. 

 

“Legolas, look out!” he yelled, grabbing the elf’s arm, throwing them both backward, away from the odd object.  Only half a moment later the small box exploded outward in another blinding flash of light accompanied by an ear-splitting bang.  Not even remotely clear of the blast area, Aragorn and Legolas were flung roughly forward, the shock of the reverberation seeming to push all the air from their lungs. 

 

Legolas hit the earth hard before he even realized he had left it.  Aragorn’s weight slammed down on top of him a second later, driving him hard into the ground.  The elf felt a jab of pain stab across his forearm but it took him a moment to realize that it was because he had fallen on his own knives.  He was lucky it hadn’t been worse.  His ears were still ringing as he struggled to extricate himself from his friend’s dead weight.  The fact that Aragorn was not moving on his own sent a thrill of panic through the prince.

 

Aragorn, having placed himself between Legolas and the explosion, had taken the worst of the blast.  His head swam and consciousness wavered uncertainly.  He couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears.  What on earth was that?  What had they come up against?  Surely this must be the ‘devil’s fire’ that the townspeople who had encountered the supposed wights had spoken of, but if their attackers were not in fact supernatural, what in the blazes was it?!

 

Before they had even had half a chance to recover themselves, Aragorn was jerked roughly up and off of Legolas, strong hands closing around his wrists as he was dragged to his feet.  The ranger’s legs were unsteady however, and refused to hold him.  He sagged to his knees and his captors allowed it, twisting his hands behind him and leveling the tips of their blades warningly against his heart. 

 

Legolas was pulled roughly to his hands and knees, but not allowed to look up.  The tips of several different swords pressed into his back and sides, silently warning him about what any unapproved movement would cost.  A hand slid down and placed the tip of a dagger against the underside of the elf’s throat.  Effectively trapped between different sets of blades above and below, Legolas remained very still on his hands and knees, trying to blink the lingering effects of the blast from his head and his eyes.  His injured arm trembled slightly below him as it supported his weight.  Blood seeping slowly from the vertical gash he had inadvertently created pooled between his fingers. 

 

The prince gasped slightly as a heavy weight leaned down on his shoulders, forcing him to press a little harder on the blade below and making his injured arm protest violently at the task of holding him up.  The man holding the knife had leaned casually upon the elf’s shoulders.  “You wanted to find the Barrow-Wights mate, well you found ‘em,” the being’s voice hissed in Legolas’ ear. 

 

The elf struggled but felt the razor edge of the blade press sharper against the underside of his chin. 

 

“You are no wights, you are flesh and blood, I feel you!  I saw you bleed!” he threw back at their captors, trying to turn his head enough to see Aragorn, but he could not.  The ranger had not spoken and Legolas was worried.

 

“Surprise, surprise,” the man holding the prince down had an obvious smirk in his voice.  Removing his weight and his knife, the man, for man it was, allowed his companions to pull Legolas to his feet.  “Everyone else was pretty fooled so far, it’s too bad you had to get so nosey.”

 

Aragorn was blinking hard as full consciousness slowly returned.  His vision was still blurry however.  “Legolas... are you all right?” he asked softly when his roving, wavering gaze was unable to find his friend.

 

“For the moment,” Legolas’ captor replied in an almost cheerful tone.  “And it might stay that way if you two want to tell me why you’re looking for us?”

 

Now that he had a good view of them, Legolas could see that these were indeed all men, but they were dressed in strangely shaped white costumes that covered every inch of their bodies, all the way down to the ground where it billowed and folded onto the grass, hiding even their boots.  Whether it was the stuff it was made of or something that had been done to it, the white fabric of their eerie robes glittered and reflected the moonlight dully, lending them an other-worldly air even though it was now plain to see that they were nothing more than a band of thieves with creative attire.  They all looked more or less the same, except for the one who was doing most of the talking, who had a garish red smile painted upon his ghostly, masked hood.  There was something nonsensical about it and it almost ruined the effect if seen up close, almost. 

 

“You’ve been preying on the locals,” Aragorn started to shake his head but quickly decided against it when he found out that he felt as if he had a rather large hangover.  “Stealing, waylaying, killing...”

 

“Ah, ah, ah,” the man in the painted hood, who seemed to be some kind of leader, waved his hand in correction.  “We haven’t killed no one.  Not yet.  And as for stealing... you must be mistaken... that be the wight’s doing... and us here, as you said, we’re just humble men like yourselves.” 

 

“There aren’t any wights in this scenario, just a bunch of thieving humans using the superstitions and fears of their own kind against them,” Legolas said coldly. 

 

“And I suppose you ain’t afraid of nothing...” one of the men holding Legolas from behind chuckled evilly, twisting the elf’s injured arm.  Legolas blanched but made no sound.

 

“Hey, enough of that,” the lead man shook his head disapprovingly.  “But now I seem to have a problem.  Namely, what do I do with you two?  And your friends once they’ve all joined us.”

 

Aragorn’s ears perked up a little at the mention of Halbarad and his brothers, and, he supposed, Bilbo, wherever the little hobbit had got to.  Obviously this had indeed been a trap, as he had suspected too late.  He hoped that his brothers fared better than they had. 

 

“I say we kill them now and drain their blood.  That ought to keep anyone from wanting to poke around after us,” one of the men holding Aragorn growled with an almost hungry blood-lust in his voice.  Many of the others murmured in support of this idea. 

 

The lead bandit tipped his head to the side as if thinking.  “That’s messy,” he shook his head.  “Besides, the instant you start killing people everyone begins to take it personal-like and you get the dratted heroes out in force.  There’s nothing more disruptive than someone stupid enough to not care about themselves, looking to rid the world of evil.”

 

“Then what do we do with them?” someone else shouted back, obviously not pleased with their leader’s decision on the subject.  “They can’t go free to tell everyone we’re a hoax!  You told us they were a threat, that’s why we did this.  Now we have to deal with it.”

 

“How *did* you know?” Aragorn asked.  “How did you know we were looking for you?”

 

“We have our contacts in town and they ain’t blind nor deaf.  Besides, little something I learned long ago.  If something seems too good to be true mate, it probably is.  It’s a might suspicious that any of the little folk would be traveling alone around here now, what with all the hoopla going on.  And one that happened to be known as eccentrically wealthy... well... it only took a little looking around to see what was really going on.  Don’t feel too bad for underestimating us friend, you’re in good company.  We thrive on the misperceptions of others.”  The man gave a mock bow.

 

Aragorn couldn’t see their captors’ faces, but the tone of the lead man told that he was grinning.  The ranger had to admit that it was true; these bandits had been far cleverer than he’d given them credit for. 

 

“Where did the little pip-squeak go anyways?” the man looked around as if considering this for the first time.  “Bolted I suppose.  Probably halfway home and blathering mad with fright.  You should have all seen the looks on your faces when we came out of the trees!” the man laughed out loud.  “Priceless.”

 

Neither Aragorn nor Legolas were very amused. 

 

Actually neither were the other bandits.  The plan had been that they would still get the hobbit and anything he was carrying, as well as the people who had laid the trap, but now it looked like they had gotten nothing out of this night but trouble. 

 

With a cry one of the bandits fell, clutching his leg which inexplicably had an arrow protruding from it.  Everyone started. 

 

“What the-” one of the thieves holding Legolas started, but never got to finish.  The elf prince grabbed their moment of surprise to swiftly bend forward and fling the man holding him over his back directly into the bandit who had been speaking a moment ago. 

 

The men holding Aragorn tensed and tightened their hold against his trying to jump up, but the ranger surprised them by doing the opposite of what they expected and dropped *down* closer to the ground.  Unprepared, the thieves lost hold of him as he rolled away from them. 

 

Elladan and Elrohir appeared on either side of the camp, wading swiftly into the sudden fray, followed by Halbarad.  Blood stains on Elladan’s tunic told that they had already seen some action somewhere else, but there was no time to wonder at the details right now, or to whom the blood belonged. 

 

The fake wights quickly decided that this situation had gone beyond their comfortable control and it was time to beat a tactical retreat.  They began pulling back, but the elves and the rangers pressed them hard, following after and not allowing them to escape. 

 

Legolas’ knives had been left on the ground where they fell, but they were back in his hands now and flashed as he dodged under one man’s swinging strokes.  However in the darkness, and with his senses still half-clouded, the prince’s foot caught on something, either the hem of the man’s robes, or a hidden tree root, the elf did not know and it did not matter.  The end result was that he could not pull out of his roll quick enough and ended up sprawled on his back for a moment with his defenses completely down. 

 

For a suspended instant, Legolas found himself staring up at the bandit with the red smile on his hood.  The man had his sword in hand as he nearly stumbled on the elf in his hurry to leave.  He had only to thrust his blade down to give a killing blow, and there was no way Legolas could stop him in time from his position.  The prince realized in the sickening half-instant he had to register what had happened that this tumble had just cost him his life. 

 

The bandit’s sword went instinctively up and forward... but he hesitated.  Rather than complete his swing into the elf’s unprotected chest he simply turned aside, vanishing into the trees and the chaos. 

 

Suddenly there was another loud explosion and Legolas covered his ears, closing his eyes this time now that he knew the after-effect it could have.  When he opened his eyes again an eerie peace had fallen over the woods, as if the blast had blown all the fighting away.  Picking himself up, Legolas saw Elladan doing the same not far away.  Halbarad was shaking his head to clear the ringing and Elrohir was sitting in the long grasses gingerly pressing his hands against the sides of his head, a grimace on his face as he tried to rub the pain out of his eardrums. 

 

All of the bandit-wights were gone, having used the opportunity of their last diversion to vanish without a trace. 

 

When Legolas realized he didn’t see Aragorn he scrambled fully upright and looked around a little harder, stumbling to keep his balance.  He was momentarily relieved when he heard a small moan a little ways off through the trees and caught sight of motion.  He hurried over to it, but what the elf found was not what he expected.

 

A crumpled heap of white, luminescent fabric, looking for all the world like a discarded rag-doll, moved sluggishly on the forest floor.  The mask with the red smile on it had been twisted around by the blast until it was on sideways, giving a very ridiculous effect. 

 

Legolas quickly knelt, placing his knife against the bandit’s throat this time.  Pulling the man’s hood off in one quick motion he revealed a deeply tanned, oval face framed with long, disheveled ebony hair matched by two dark eyes.  The hair was pulled back from the human’s face in a multitude of finger-width braids that looked like they had not been redone in a long time.  The braids were in turn kept out of his eyes by a dark green scarf wrapped around the bandit’s head. 

 

The man flinched and raised his hand against the sudden infusion of moonlight, faint though it was.  He seemed singularly undisturbed by his present situation for the most part, but Legolas couldn’t be sure that that was not because of shock from the blast they had all been caught in for the second time that evening.

 

“Great...” the bandit muttered, “I can have a hangover with none of the benefits... ouch, easy there!” he protested when Legolas dragged him upright. 

 

“Who are you?” the elf demanded. 

 

“Kaldur’s the name, Kaldur DeCahr, friends call me Kal, and other people call me things I wouldn’t repeat...”

 

“What are you doing here?” Legolas cut him off.

 

“Well how-do-you-do it’s nice to make your acquaintance as well,” Kaldur carried on a mock conversation with himself since Legolas seemed unwilling to oblige.  “What do you think I’m doin’ here?  Picking daisies?  Obviously someone’s aim was a little off on that last fireball.  Don’t think they expected you to put up such a fight.”

 

“I guess we’re not the only ones to underestimate someone else,” Legolas said quietly as he guided the prisoner to his feet.  The bandit was at least a head shorter than the elf and the prince easily pulled the smaller man upright, pushing Kaldur ahead of him.  Without the hooded mask it was easy to see that the human was a little younger than Aragorn and slighter in build than the ranger.  He wore a thin mustache and the shadow of a beard on his face, lending to the overall scruffiness of his appearance.

 

“So it would seem,” the bandit agreed ruefully.  “Although I mark that I’ve *over* estimated the accuracy of some of my men.  People should watch where they’re throwing things...  Look, I think this is all a big misunderstanding,” Kaldur smiled ingratiatingly at the elf.  “There’s no reason you want little old me hanging around you...” he looked pointedly at the knife the elf was still holding close to him. 

 

“You’re a thief and a highwayman, I see no misunderstanding.  Now quiet,” Legolas shook his head as they made their way back to the others.  The elf was trying to listen to the night and catch any sounds of their fleeing attackers, but the constant babbling at his side was making it difficult.  Nor was it helping his headache.

 

Kaldur could not seem to take a hint.  “But no real harm’s been done here.  Why, all we did was dress up and have a little chat with you gentlemen!”

 

“Quiet.”  Legolas repeated the command, beginning to become irritated. 

 

“But I ask you, did I take anything from you?  No. So where’s the thievery in that?” the man protested.  “Now I don’t really want to go back to wherever it is you want to take me to get my neck stretched or my blood boiled by a bunch of superstitious fobs, and I’m sure you don’t want to have to be stuck with me for any longer than you have to, so why don’t we just-”

 

“Shut up!” Legolas snapped, his temper not improved by the night’s events, nor the painful pounding that was building between his temples from having been too close to too many explosions. 

 

The bandit clamed up with an innocent shrug.  “Why don’t we just be quiet then,” he finished amiably. 

 

Legolas rolled his eyes in disgust as he tied Kaldur’s hands behind him with the trailing end of the man’s own, torn costume.  Forcing the bandit to sit down he did the same to his ankles.  “Move, and I’ll kill you,” the prince warned calmly. 

 

“Elrohir, you all right?” Legolas asked when he saw that the younger of the two twins was still holding his ears and looking a little dazed.   

 

“What?”  Elrohir shook his head, wincing.  His voice was louder than usual and a disturbing red trickle of blood ran from his right ear down his neck. 

 

“I asked if you were all right,” Legolas repeated. 

 

Elrohir’s brows furrowed. “What?  Legolas, I’m sorry, I can barely hear you, my ears are still ringing.”

 

Legolas let his breath out slowly.  That answered his question then.  Elrohir was definitely not all right.

 

“Estel!” Elladan’s voice calling his brother’s name caught Legolas’ attention.  “Estel!”

 

Legolas looked around, realizing that he still did not see Aragorn anywhere.  A thrill of panic shot through him for the dozenth time that evening.  “Elladan, where is Strider?”

 

“I don’t know,” Elladan was obviously disturbed and worried. Turning quickly back in the direction he had been headed he pointed to a stand of thick trees. “He was fighting over there last I saw him, but that was before that last blast of devilry.  ESTEL!”

 

“He’s not here,” Halbarad reappeared from somewhere in the woods, although they had not marked his leaving.  The ranger’s voice was grim.  “He’s not anywhere in these woods.  It’s too dark to be reading signs, but if I could take a guess I’d say our friends in the bed sheets somehow managed to take off with him.  I found this,” he dropped Aragorn’s unsheathed and bloodied sword on the ground at the elves’ feet.  “On the ground outside the trees.  There was blood out there too, but it’s impossible to tell whose.”

 

Legolas and Elladan looked at one another, dread gnawing at their hearts. 

 

“What?  What did he say?” Elrohir’s face paled as he saw the expression on his brother and his friend’s face.  It was terribly frustrating only catching murmurs and whispers and every other sound; especially for one used to very acute hearing. 

 

The captive bandit lounged sideways against the tree, looking as much at ease as a man could when trussed up as tightly as he was.  “He said your friend is with my friends, just like I am with you.  Kind of puts the shoe on a whole new foot, doesn’t it?”  The man seemed considerably more relieved and cocky now that he knew this. 

 

Elladan stooped and dragged the bandit partway up by the front of his shirt.  “Nothing had better happen to my brother, do you understand me?!  Nothing!”  The elf shook the human roughly. 

 

When the elder twin did this Legolas saw his back for the first time and realized that the blood he had first seen on Elladan’s tunic when they jumped into the fray must definitely be the elf’s.  The back of Elladan’s tunic had been badly burned and shredded by something... Legolas assumed he must have been caught pretty close to one of those exploding boxes before they even got here. 

 

Tonight had not gone well; not by any stretch of the imagination.  Almost all of them were wounded in one way or another and they were missing two of their members, one of whom looked to have very probably been captured by their attackers... that thought made Legolas feel sick.

 

“Calm down friend,” the bandit pulled back a little from Elladan’s grip.  “Blowing a gasket ain’t gonna help no one.”

 

“I’m not your friend,” Elladan growled, releasing the man with a small shove.  Worry for his brother consumed him. 

 

“See that’s the trouble with the world today, no one wants to befriend anyone...” Kaldur lamented mournfully.

 

“Shut up!” Three sets of voices spoke in irritated chorus.  Elrohir did not speak because of course he still could not really hear what everyone was saying to begin with. 

 

“Fine, if that’s the way you feel about it then...” the man mumbled under his breath.

 

“We’ve got to find him, get him back,” Legolas said decidedly.  “Halbarad, could you tell which way the trail went?”

 

The ranger wrested his gaze away from the captive bandit, shaking his head regretfully.  “Not in this light.  Maybe you will see something I’ve missed though.”

 

“Not likely...” Kaldur muttered quietly.  All eyes turned toward him.  “What?  Oh, I know, I know, shut up, right?  Fine.”

 

Legolas dropped down onto one knee before the man, meeting his dark eyes evenly.  “Where will your people go?  Where will they take my friend?  Tell us.”

 

“Oh so now you *do* want me to talk.  I do wish you’d make up your mind...”

 

“I am tired of playing games!” Legolas pressed one of the knives still in his hands sharply against the captive’s throat.  “Where do your men hide?  Where will they take him!?”

 

“What you going to do with that lad?  Eh?” the man looked down at the knife at his throat, getting slightly cross-eyed from trying to see it.  “Going to kill me?  Then you’ll never find out where they are, *and* you’ll have nothing to bargain for his return with either.  So go ahead and kill me, it’s your friend’s funeral.”

 

Legolas’ knuckles tightened on his knife handle in frustration.  Unfortunately, Kaldur was right.  Infuriating human. 

 

“What do we do now?” Halbarad asked quietly.  The question was directed at no one in particular, but merely voicing what was on all of their minds.

 

“Very good question,” Kaldur spoke up helpfully.  “Now if you think about it logically for a minute you’d realize I *would* die before I gave up any of my people to you or anyone else.  So if you were to ask my opinion, I would say your best course of action is to make camp somewhere nearby and keep a close eye on me so I don’t escape.  Then my men will come to you looking for me and you can trade me for your friend, and everyone goes home happy, clear ‘nough?”

 

Elladan leaned against a nearby tree, resting his head sideways against his arm.  The gesture was less than casual.  His injuries were catching up with him.  He sighed slightly.  He didn’t like Kaldur’s suggestion but he was having difficulty seeing an alternative. 

 

“Legolas?” The elder twin looked to the prince for input and suggestions.  The wood-elf shook his head.  He had neither. 

 

“Perhaps when daylight comes we shall be able to better track them,” Was all Legolas could suggest.  “Until then, we *will* keep a close eye on you, don’t worry,” he assured Kaldur grimly. 

 

Halbarad left the decision up to the elves because he had no viable alternatives to offer either, although the thought of Aragorn in enemy hands did not sit any better with him than with the others.  He moved over to guard Kaldur, freeing Legolas to go to the twins. 

 

Elladan had moved to his brother’s side, worry lining every feature.  Elrohir was still kneeling quietly although he had stopped holding his head.  By now he realized that something was wrong and had stopped trying to hear what everyone was saying, trusting that his friends or his brother would fill him in soon.  Unease at his own impairment made the younger twin’s brows furrow.  At first when consciousness had returned he had been able to hear a little bit although the sounds were muffled and distorted.  But as he had been given time to recover, his hearing had grown worse rather than better and now he sat in a world of utter quiet, unable to even hear himself.  It was frightening and that fear numbed his mind.

 

“Elladan, where is Estel?  What’s going on?” Elrohir begged his brother to explain to him the things he was missing as Elladan knelt down next to him. 

 

Legolas joined them as Elladan directed his twin’s face towards his own with gentle pressure from the back of his hand.  “Estel has been taken.  We will get him back, I promise.”  The elder twin tried to speak very clearly, moving his lips more than necessary and making hand motions to illustrate. 

 

Elrohir nodded, catching the meaning, if not the words.  His gaze dropped for a moment and when he looked back up, uncertainty edged his eyes.  “El...” he whispered.  “I can’t hear you.  At all.  I can’t even hear me.”

 

Elladan closed his eyes painfully and pulled his brother’s head to his shoulder.  “It will be all right El,” he promised softly, even though he knew his brother couldn’t hear him.  At least Elrohir could feel the vibrations of his brother’s words as his head rested against his twin’s chest.  “We’ll get you back to father soon, he will be able to help you, he has to be.”

 

Legolas caught Elladan’s shoulders supportively as the elf wavered slightly, trying to support himself and his twin. 

 

“You need some help too Elladan,” the prince said softly.  For once it seemed that Legolas was actually the least injured of the three elves.  “Halbarad,” the wood-elf turned his searching gaze upon the ranger who was the only other mostly-uninjured person.  “We must make camp, but not here.  Somewhere safer, but close.  Elladan and Elrohir need attention and we must try to find Bilbo, if he was not found and taken with Aragorn.”

 

Halbarad nodded in compliance as he got Kaldur to his feet while Legolas helped the twins.  There was a lot to be answered for this night.

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

Aragorn blinked slowly.  It was the second time that night he felt himself slowly coming back to consciousness after having been knocked out or almost out of it by one of those strange explosions. 

 

He tried to put his hand to his aching head, but he couldn’t.  He could feel someone near, but in the darkness and with his vision blurred he couldn’t see them. 

 

“Legolas?” the ranger murmured somewhat thickly, trying to find his friend as the moments leading up to the last blast came back to him in shattered glimpses and chunks. 

 

“Nope, guess again,” a hard and somewhat amused voice spoke close to Aragorn’s ear, making the man jerk.  The ranger quickly became aware of the feeling of rough rope digging into his wrists as he tried to move away from the unknown presence. 

 

A torch was nearly shoved in his face and Aragorn winced, trying to draw his head away from the painfully sudden light.  Unfortunately he found that he was lying on his side on the ground, bound tightly and he could not move away.  A host of dark shapes hovered round him, half-obscured by the bright torch that was illuminating him and hiding those who held it although he assumed they were more than likely the same brigands who had attacked them earlier.

 

“Who are you?  Where am I?” Aragorn demanded, trying and failing to clearly see any of his captors around the blinding glare of the torch by his face. 

 

“You’re in the land of the un-dead friend,” the voice close to him responded cryptically.  “And you’re ours.”

 

Aragorn felt a shiver run up his spine as the bandits laughed; the hard tones of their mirth echoing threateningly on the night air. 

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART EIGHT*~

 

 

 

Legolas expertly wrapped his own arm with his good hand.  The cut was not deep or dangerous, and although it stung it would not seriously hamper his ability to use his arm, or fight, if necessary. 

 

Elrohir moved around his brother’s form quietly.  He had insisted on tending Elladan’s burns and cuts himself.  As soon as Legolas had his own injury bound up so that he was no longer trailing blood everywhere, he was going to lend Elrohir a hand.  

 

The younger twin seemed to be coming out of the semi-shock he had been in, although his hearing had not improved.  That worried Legolas.  They had all experienced ringing in their ears after the blast, but it seemed to have done something worse to Elrohir. 

 

“You might want to tuck that edge in,” Kaldur remarked as Legolas twisted the bandage around his arm one last time.  “You’ll leave an opening for the air otherwise.”  They had removed the bandit’s ghoulish costume and unbound his feet to ease their traveling, but his hands were now securely bound in front of him.  Dark tangles of unkempt hair fell about his face lending more of a wild unpredictability to the thief’s appearance.  The man wore an overlarge ill-fitting white tunic held in place by a brown suede vest.  His dark colored breeches were secured about his waist with a tattered sash.  He smiled up at the elf through locks and braids of hair that obscured his eyes.

 

Legolas leveled the man with a look that seemed to inquire who had asked his opinion, but Kaldur was un-phased and the elf was beginning to realize that the man’s somewhat irritating detachment from reality had nothing to do with the effects of the explosion. 

 

“Just a suggestion,” Kaldur shrugged and went back to quietly sing-songing nonsense verses to himself.  Legolas was beginning to think that the human was insane; either that or somehow unexplainably drunk.  With another warning glare at Kaldur, Legolas scooted closer to the other two elves. 

 

Elladan hissed silently through his teeth as Elrohir spread salve across the burns on his back.  The injury was not severe, but Legolas was sure it was very painful.  He had had more than a fair share of burns in his life, including the one on his cheek from the flaming arrow, which he had almost forgotten all about until Elrohir offered him a dab of the salve he was using on his brother, gesturing at the prince’s face.

 

“Strider and I were attacked by surprise, the strange fire bursts threw us off guard.  What happened to the three of you?” Legolas asked as he rubbed the ointment over the reddened area on his cheekbone.

 

Elrohir did not hear him and did not look up from his self-appointed task, so it was Elladan who answered.  “Much the same thing.  I think one of the blasts must have gone off right behind me.  I don’t know how they do it, but those things are dangerous.”

 

“So I have noticed,” Legolas turned a hard eye on Kaldur who was watching them all with interest from across the fire.  “Kaldur, what are those small devices that your people use?”

 

“What devices?” Kaldur’s dead-pan was impeccable, although he obviously knew exactly what they were talking about.  Legolas and Elladan both glared at him.

 

“Oohh, right, *those* devices,” the bandit pretended to catch on.  “Well I’d be glad to tell you what was in ‘em, but I don’t know me self.  Got them from a dark fairy up in the mountains who eats fire and lives on the essence of the souls she’s corrupted... demanded a pound of flesh from each of us in return.  Oh you should a heard the howling and the-”

 

“Please,” Elladan cut him off, looking disgusted.  “Spare us the drama and don’t take us for idiots.  What are they really?”

 

“Dredged up from the bottom of the sea in distant lands... the play things of the water gods...” Kaldur easily spun a new and equally unbelievable story for them with a wide grin. 

 

“Oh never mind!  We’ll get nothing useful out of him,” Legolas saved them from another fanciful flight of imagination on Kaldur’s part. 

 

“That’s the ticket, now you’re catching on!” the thief grinned irritatingly. 

 

“Catching on to what?  That we should have put a dart in you when we had the chance?” Halbarad said somewhat tersely as he entered camp from the north side, dropping down into a crouch to talk with the elves. 

 

“I can find less trace of Bilbo than I found even of Aragorn, but it seems that he went away alone, to the north.  However, if he was picked up later I could not say because I did not follow the trail far,” the ranger reported. 

 

“We can’t leave him out there alone,” Legolas said quietly.  “Strider promised to protect him and I know he would want that promise fulfilled even in his absence.”

 

Halbarad nodded uneasily.  He knew the same thing, but he feared what that meant.  He did not wish to leave with Aragorn’s fate uncertain.  “Any of you could track him just as well as I can, probably better...”

 

Elladan read the hesitation in the man’s eyes.  “Halbarad you’re the only one fit to be out there alone right now.  Besides, Elrohir has got to get back to father and I cannot send him off by himself.  I thought he could go with you...”

 

Elrohir had been following the conversation visually, although it made little sense without sound.  When thought he saw his brother say his name however, he quickly touched Elladan’s shoulder.  “What?  What did you say?”

 

Elladan sighed slightly, knowing his twin would protest.  “Elrohir, I said I want you to go with Halbarad.  He’s going to find Bilbo and then go back to Rivendell.”  The elder twin lightly touched his fingertips to Elrohir’s temple, using the other hand to gesture as he spoke.  Whether it was that they had inherited latent traces of telepathic ability from their mother and father, or simply the bond of their twinship, Elladan seemed at the moment to be able to make Elrohir understand him better than anyone else could if he stopped and focused in on his brother when he talked, making physical contact as well as eye contact. 

 

Elrohir was already shaking his head.  “No, I will not leave.  You cannot make me El; I am not a child for you to send away.  I am not going anywhere until we get Estel back.”

 

“El...” Elladan’s gaze was worried.  “There could be something really wrong with you.  Don’t you understand that?  We have no idea what the matter is, what if you lose your hearing forever because we didn’t get you help in time?  I can’t allow it.”

 

Elrohir just smiled and started packing up the salve and bandages he had been using, easily pulling away from his brother’s hand and any chance of attempted communication.  “I can’t hear you El, and you’re talking too fast for me to follow,” he said somewhat smugly.  “But that’s all right; I agree.  It is best for me to stay here to help you two.  After all, there’s no way you could force me to go if I didn’t want to anyway.” 

 

Kaldur laughed loudly.  “By gol, I think I like him!”

 

Elladan looked fit to burst.  “Stars Elrohir!  You’re getting as frustrating as he is!” he shouted at his brother, which didn’t help because Elrohir still couldn’t hear him. 

 

“Shh, wait, losing our tempers won’t help anyone.”  Legolas laid his hand on Elladan’s arm, attempting to diffuse the rising controversy.  “Maybe Elrohir’s right.  I don’t want to see him hurt either, but we have the prisoner to think about guarding and if Halbarad runs into trouble hunting Bilbo he may not be able to return to Lord Elrond any quicker than we can.  If Kaldur knows his men as well as he thinks he does, they should be getting in touch with us soon and we’ll proceed from there, agreed?”

 

Elladan did not look pleased, but he nodded.  “All right, agreed.”

 

Elrohir smiled.  “Good!”

 

Elladan looked at him sharply.  “I thought you couldn’t hear us *brother*.”

 

Elrohir shrugged with a grin.  “I can’t, but I can tell from your look that you lost.”

 

“Thanks a lot,” Elladan muttered. 

 

Legolas actually chuckled softly at them. 

 

“I will either return or send someone once I have any word of Bilbo,” Halbarad said quietly, hating to go but knowing he had better start as soon as possible.  “I know that if I cannot help, at least I could leave Strider’s safety in no better hands.”

 

Legolas nodded, rising and following the ranger to the edge of camp.  They had settled themselves securely in small, rocky dell, steeply enclosed on two sides by rough rock walls, and the two of them had to climb up a little to get out. 

 

The elf respected the man’s devotion to duty.  Legolas wasn’t sure that he could have done the same this time if it was required of him.  Not after everything he and Aragorn had been through... after the lengths that Aragorn had gone to save the elf prince, both from the shadow of Mordor and his own despair.  “Go with the blessing of the Valar, Halbarad.  I do not know you as well as the others, but I hope you know that I would trade my life for Aragorn’s, if it came to that.” 

 

“I think I do know it,” Halbarad nodded.  “And from the things Aragorn has said of you I believe it.”

 

The ranger left then and Kaldur grinned ingratiatingly at Legolas as the elf dropped lightly down the rock wall and re-entered the camp.  The thief rose to his feet with some difficulty since he did not have the use of his hands.  “Well, that’s all settled then.  So what do we do now?”

 

Legolas glared at the insufferable human and gave him a small push backward.  “*You* are going to remain *silent* and not leave this circle of firelight.”

 

The thief blinked and tilted his head to the side as Legolas turned away.  “Why would I want to do that?”

 

The elf prince turned back slowly.  “Because if you do not, I will shoot you.”  He said quietly.  “And enjoy doing it, so take care.”

 

“Well if you feel that way about it...” Kaldur gave an injured look as if hurt by that statement and flopped back down onto the ground.  As soon as Legolas’ back was turned he made a face, miming the elf’s motions to him a moment ago.  “I will shoot you and enjoy doing it, so take care,” he mimicked almost silently, raising his voice and exaggerating the prince’s gestures. 

 

Elrohir saw and clapped his hand over his mouth.  He tried not to laugh, but it didn’t work. 

 

Legolas sensed something was wrong and spun quickly around, but Kaldur quickly dropped his act and pulled one knee up to his chest, resting his bound hands and chin on it and looking up at the elf very innocently, although his smile was anything but blameless. 

 

The elf prince shook his head and stalked away to the edge of the firelight, peering out into the night.  He hoped that Aragorn was all right. 

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

Aragorn was sitting up now and more fully aware of his surroundings.  He was in a well-provisioned cave that seemed to be hidden somewhere in the hills around the Barrow Downs, although his captors had made sure he didn’t know where and could not find out from where he was seated.  Torchlight illuminated the cave and members of the bandit clan were still drifting in after the night’s foray.  There were only about nine or ten of them that Aragorn could count and he was slightly surprised when he began to realize that was all there were.  It took a lot of brains and a certain amount of luck to pull off the things these men had been doing with such a small number.  Most all of the men had removed their costumes by now and were dressed in normal clothes, although a few of them still wore random pieces such as gloves or a sash that they had yet to remove. 

 

Aragorn was sitting next to the pile of glimmering robes and leaned over for a closer look.  They were just ordinary fabric, but now that he was up close he smelled the distinctive mineral smell of a certain kind of phosphorous stone that could sometimes be found up in the mountains.  He remembered his brothers showing it to him when he was young.  Oftentimes the twins would bring some home with them from their outings and entertain young Estel by using Elrond’s tools to create a thin paste from the stones which could then be painted on just about anything to make it glow faintly in the dark. 

 

The ranger smiled.  Yes, it could be put on *anything* and since this was he and his brothers using it, it *had* gone on just about *everything*... sometimes much to their father’s chagrin.  Aragorn pulled himself back to the present.  At least this explained part of the mystery.  Looking around he tried to determine what other pieces of information he could pick up.

 

In a shadowy corner the ranger saw several of those dangerous little exploding black boxes stacked on a work table along with various components that must have been used to create them, although he could not divine the function or purpose of any of them.

 

A little ways behind him, a fire built in a naturally venting alcove burned brightly upon the floor and the ranger could feel the warmth on his back. 

 

The bandits seemed to be arguing amongst themselves and it was getting pretty heated.  Aragorn remained quiet and listened, hoping to hear something useful.

 

“I did *not* hear Kaldur or any body else bloody call for that last explosion.  Nearly took us out with them!  I want to know who got fire happy, we can’t just go wasting these things, you all know how hard they are to make and we ain’t got much of the stones left!” one of the bandits was saying angrily. 

 

“We got away didn’t we?  So it doesn’t matter who did what.  It worked!”

 

Aragorn recognized the voice of the man who had spoken to him when he first woke.

 

“Not all of us Losmir.  There’s no doubt about it now, those blasted elves have got the boss.  Bentith saw ‘em with his own eyes.  They’re probably holding him in exchange for this one,” the man speaking jerked his head towards Aragorn. 

 

“They’re holding him to bait us into the open so they can grab us all!  That’s been their intention since coming out here, don’t you see?  Kaldur had no idea what he was doing leading us after them, we should have just left well enough alone and let them chase shadows.” Losmir fumed. 

 

“Well then what are we going to do?  We can’t just leave Kaldur to be turned over to the townspeople alone,” a young man with wavy dark hair and a youthful face protested. 

 

“Would you rather hang with him Thil?” Losmir’s voice was cutting.  “Oh, but I forgot, everyone hereabouts has it in their heads we’re some kind of mythical monsters, so they won’t hang us if they catch us, oh no, they’ll burn us alive to make sure we’re really dead like they did that poor sap everyone was convinced was a wolf-man!”

 

All the bandits blanched. 

 

“We can’t let ‘em do that to Kal,” Thil protested, shaking his head. 

 

“Let Kaldur worry about himself I says!” Losmir thundered persuasively.  “Do you think he’d risk his neck for any of us?  You know the way it works.  If you can’t pull your own weight you’re cut, that’s it.  We ain’t no bloody charity.  Kaldur knew the risks.  We don’t *need* him.  Who brought you the fireboxes, hm?  Was it him?  No!  It was me.  But who was it that let those trouble makers live to cause us grief when they should have died right away?  That was him.  He had his usefulness, but now he’s getting soft on us.  We’ve had enough of his rules and his so-called ‘honorable thievery’ if you ask me.  It’s time to take what we want, any way we want.  We have the power!  Besides, do you really think there’s any way we can let this one go from here alive?”  It was Losmir’s turn to gesture to Aragorn.  “He’s seen our hideout!  He and the others, they know what we are... they can’t take that knowledge away with them.”

 

The bandits were listening and obviously supportive as Losmir played on their greed and their arrogance.  Whether any of them could see it or not, it was obvious to Aragorn that the one called Losmir held no love for their leader, this Kaldur, who apparently was being held by Legolas and his brothers.  The ranger realized some kind of coup was underway.  The implied threat to his friends’ safety was also very clear and he listened intently, slowly edging himself backward, towards the fire behind him.  He had a feeling he was going to need to get out of here, and soon. 

 

“Then what exactly *are* you suggesting we do Losmir,” someone else asked a trifle skeptically. 

 

“One big blast.  They’re camped over in pebble gulch, Marik tracked them to where they’re holed up tonight.  One good blast on either side’ll burry ‘em deep.  And then a landslide killed them, see?  No inquiries, no vigilantes seeking justice... it was just an accident.”  Losmir seemed overly pleased with his own plan.  “*And* that way they never know we’re there.  So if they’ve got some more surprises hidden up their sleeves, they’ll never have a chance to play ‘em.”

 

“That’ll kill Kal too,” Thil felt inclined to point out quietly. 

 

Losmir’s gaze darkened and he almost looked ready to slap the younger man.  “It’s better than the alternative of him being brought in alive to face the town, now isn’t it?  And we don’t need him anymore, he’s just becoming dead wood to us... another portion of our loot we don’t need to share.  Does anyone have a problem with that?”

 

No one seemed to, except perhaps Thil, but even he did not speak up.  It seemed that a decision had been reached.

 

Aragorn was now sitting on one edge of the fire ring.  Holding his bound hands out behind him a little, he attempted to get the ropes near the fire.  The heat singed his hands and made his back uncomfortably hot, but the ranger didn’t pull back.  He had to get out of here and warn the others. 

 

As abruptly as it had started, the bandits’ meeting seemed to end and Aragorn was not pleased to see several of them, including Losmir, heading his way. 

 

Losmir dropped down next to the ranger with a wicked grin on his face.  “Well friend, I wouldn’t want to be you right now...” he remarked, pulling the dagger from his belt and slowly running his thumb suggestively up the edge of the blade.  “Because I’d be thinking I was a dead man, and I’d be right.  But I’d also be wondering how they were gonna end it, seeing as they might just want to have a little fun in the process.”  The bandit’s grin turned vicious. 

 

Aragorn glared steadily back at the men that stood around him, his eyes not betraying the cold knot of fear forming in his gut.  “You’re fools you know.  My friends will not be killed as easily as you think and you will have betrayed your leader for nothing.”

 

Losmir smirked, running the blade lightly along Aragorn’s chin line, letting the flat of the knife brush smoothly over the ranger’s stubble.  “But you’ll still be dead, won’t you?” he whispered with dark amusement.  “And don’t tell me you’re not afraid because you are... I can smell fear.”

 

Aragorn could think of a few choice words about what the man was smelling, but kept them wisely to himself as Losmir pushed him backwards, placing him even more uncomfortably close to the fire.  Despite the pain, Aragorn thrust his hands back a little farther, forcing the ropes into the flames.  Twisting his wrists hard he could feel the singeing rope beginning to weaken, popping free a few strands at a time... but so slow!

 

“You heard what the townsfolk’d do to us... maybe we should do the same for you.  Turn about is fair play after all.”  The bandit smirked, pushing Aragorn further back, almost into the fire.  “What do you say boys?  Should we burn him?”

 

A rousing cheer to the affirmative answered his question and Losmir leered down into Aragorn’s tense face and pained grey eyes.  He swung around until he was kneeling over the ranger, straddling Aragorn’s legs and holding the front of his shirt so that he could pin and press the other man further into the fire.  “Too bad for you.”

 

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART NINE*~

 

 

 

Aragorn felt the hot flames leap up against him as Losmir shoved him back and down.  He cried out as the searing tongues licked up around him hungrily, but at the same moment the singed ropes around his wrists finally gave way and snapped.

 

Circling his arms swiftly, Aragorn grabbed Losmir by the front of the shirt and lifted him enough to bring his knees up, catching the bandit in the stomach with his boots and propelling him over Aragorn’s head.  Losmir was flung clear over the fire and slammed into the stone wall behind with an audible thud. 

 

Quickly rolling out of the flames, Aragorn leapt to his feet.  There was not a moment to lose.  All the bandits were now upon him, trying to bring him down.  Aragorn was unarmed, but he thought quickly.  Grabbing a handful of the small black boxes off the table where he had seen them before, he threw them into the fire that had a few moments ago been meant for him.  He didn’t really know what, if any, effect it would have, but he hoped... and he hoped right. 

 

The bandits scattered in terror when they saw what he had done, knowing better than Aragorn did what would happen in a few moments. 

 

The ranger used the opportunity to join the mad scramble to the exit.  He had a moment half in, half out of the cave mouth to take in the rolling, rocky hills of the Barrow Downs with its jagged, teeth-like stones protruding out from the eroding earth before a huge explosion from behind shook the ground, sending rocks, sparks and debris flying everywhere.  Thrown forward, but expecting it this time, Aragorn landed hard and rolled.  A second explosion followed the first, and it seemed that not all the boxes had gone off at once.  Dust billowed into the grey, pre-dawn air but Aragorn did not care to wait for the dust to settle enough for any of the choking, stunned and enraged bandits to find him.  Taking swiftly to his heels, the ranger disappeared into the jutting rocks and ancient burial mounds. 

 

Dew from the thick night mists that were now mostly passed clung to the grass and the dripping, moldy stones making Aragorn have to be wary of his footing.  The craggy Barrows all around held all the eeriness and none of the peace of a normal graveyard, but the ranger tried to pay them as little mind as possible.  He had very real enemies to be concerned with at the moment; he hardly needed to worry about slumbering phantasms. 

 

The ranger slipped backwards on the slick grass and had to catch himself on his hands and knees when the earth under his feet shook with another distant explosion.  There was loud creaking and grinding of stone as the earth shifted in response to the tremors.  Further back on the hill next to him, the ranger saw one of the crumbling stone Barrows topple over from the strain of the shock and collapse in on itself. 

 

Amidst the grinding of settling stone, Aragorn swore that he heard a low, rending groan or growl which seemed to shake the earth itself yet again and the fading night mists thickened slightly.  For a brief moment the ranger felt the shadow of a dark and terrible terror fall across his heart, one that had nothing to do with the bandits and his narrow escape. 

 

Then the first rays of the rising sun began to peek across the eastern horizon, burning away the mists as it slowly began to light the sky.

 

Scrambling quickly to his feet once more Aragorn hurried on as fast as his legs would carry him.  He could hear the shouting and cursing of the bandits behind him as they tried to figure out which way he had gone.  He had no desire to be there when they discovered his path of escape.

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

Legolas crouched on a ridge overlooking both their camp and the valley on the other side as he watched the first inklings of the dawn begin to grow above the misty mountains in the east.  But his heart could not feel much joy at its beauty today.  He was too worried.  They had heard no word at all through the long night about Aragorn, and although he supposed that didn’t necessarily mean that the bandits *weren’t* going to contact them, he was still uneasy. 

 

He had taken the first watch, letting Elladan and Elrohir sleep, but had never bothered to wake them and stood guard all night.  The prince knew that Aragorn would probably chide him for that if he were here; the ranger often took issue with Legolas’ tendency to avoid sleeping when the prince was troubled or distressed, although Legolas’ strong elvish constitution made it perfectly all right for him to do so on occasion.  But Aragorn was not here, and that was in fact the reason for the elf’s restlessness.  Not long ago he had heard strange sound from a far distance off, like thunder coming from the direction of the Barrow Downs.  That had only heightened his unease, and as the sun rose he found himself becoming more agitated at the lack of knowledge about his friend’s fate. 

 

Elladan and Elrohir slept on, despite being usually early risers, and Legolas let them rest.  He knew their healing bodies needed the extra time.  Kaldur however, was already awake, much to Legolas’ annoyance. 

 

The bandit had been amusing himself by walking along the perimeter of the camp, intentionally going just to the edges of the now fading circle of light cast by the fire, but never crossing over it. 

 

Legolas watched the human from where he sat, his bow resting on his knees and a quiet, irritated glower on his face.  He had just about had enough of the human’s testing and taunting.  The fellow refused to be a proper prisoner at all, acting as if they were all one big happy party and it was only incidental that he was bound and being guarded.  There was something supremely unnerving about that.

 

Kaldur stretched as much as he could with his hands tied and yawned.  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m about ready for breakfast.  Don’t you think they’ve been sleeping long enough?” he nodded towards the twins.  “It’s the early bird gets the worm they say.” 

 

Legolas’ expression did not change although he shifted his grip on his bow.  “No, I do not think they’ve slept enough considering they are still recovering from injuries that you and your people gave them.  If the early bird gets the worm, then you may feel free to partake of that breakfast.”

 

Kaldur laughed as if it was a good joke, which in a way it was, although it had not particularly been meant with much humor.  “Ah, you’ve got a sense of humor under all those frowns after all friend!”  He clambered easily up the rock face and flopped down so he was sitting on the stone right next to Legolas, leaning casually against the prince.  The elf shifted away a little.  Kaldur grinned.

 

“You don’t like me,” the human observed pleasantly. 

 

“I don’t know you,” Legolas corrected.  “However you are not inspiring an overwhelming desire in me to change that situation, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

Kaldur made a face.  “Gol, how can you *talk* like that this early in the morning?  Does it come natural or have you been thinking it up all night?  Oh, oh there you go.  Now you’re giving me the angry eyebrows again,” he sighed over-dramatically when Legolas frowned at him. 

 

Legolas didn’t bother trying to make sense of the man’s motives for his words anymore.  It was a waste of time since he didn’t seem to have any.  “Why didn’t you kill me?” the elf asked instead, as much from actual curiosity as to try to give the conversation some real direction since Kaldur seemed intent on having a conversation to begin with.

 

“Like I told the men, too messy,” Kaldur waved the question off easily. 

 

“No,” Legolas shook his head.  “Not then.  Afterwards.  In the fight.  You could have easily killed me, why didn’t you?”

 

The bandit tipped his head to the side.  “I’m not a killer mate.  I told you both that last night and it’s true.  However, if you take me in ta face those townspeople all by me self I may be regretting it, eh?”  His light attitude did not change, despite the momentary sparkle of real fear in his dark eyes but for one brief moment the elf was gifted with the rare chance to see the real man behind the irritating nonchalance.  The bandit’s dark eyes held more than his idiotic act betrayed.  These were not the eyes of one as young as he looked, they held a world-weariness, a knowledge of things that a soul so less in years than Legolas should not have had.

 

This one who sat next to the elf had seen much in his short life span and though he oft acted the imbecile there was a quickness, a smartness that marked a liveliness to his very being that hadn’t been quenched by the life he had lived thus far.  Kaldur was more than he seemed Legolas realized with mild surprise.  The curtain fell just as quickly as it had been allowed to be unmasked and the dark haired man smiled impishly at the elf once more.

 

Legolas looked away.  Humans could be so complicated... they could go through so much in their short lifetimes that it sometimes boggled the elf and made him wonder how they survived it all.

 

“But no fear of that, right?” Kaldur said cheerily.  “Because you need your friend back, and my friends need me back.  So it all works out in the end, don’t it?”

 

Legolas’ sad, distant expression did not change.  Kaldur seemed so confident that everything would be all right, but he could not be that sure.  He could not help feeling that he was simply sitting there and doing *nothing* while who knew what was happening to Aragorn.

 

“Look, if you’re worried about your friend, don’t,” Kaldur shook his head, his jesting manner sobering somewhat.  “The boys play rough sometimes, but they aren’t stupid.  I know what you’re thinking.  A prisoner among bandits... but I don’t let my people get away with scuttle like that.”

 

For some reason Legolas honestly believed the thief on that.  He had seen as much last night when Kaldur kept the other men from hurting the elf just for sport.  However that did not ease the prince’s mind.  “Yes,” he said softly.  “But you’re not there, are you?”

 

“No, I’m here,” Kaldur said quietly.  Then his smile brightened roguishly again.  “But we could always remedy that, couldn’t we?” he turned his bound hands towards the elf.  “Cut me loose and I promise I’ll send your friend back to you safe and sound.”

 

Legolas snorted slightly.  “I don’t think so.  I’m not the insane one here.”

 

Kaldur chuckled and shrugged.  “Well you can’t blame a body for trying, can ye?”

 

Suddenly the elf froze and put a finger to his lips, gesturing for Kaldur to get down, behind the rocks they were sitting on. 

 

Kaldur did at once.  “What’s happening?  Someone coming?” he asked hopefully.

 

“I don’t know, quiet,” Legolas hushed him, trying to pick up on the sound he had heard before.  Now however there was nothing, and he strained to decipher any clues... when suddenly something moved directly behind him.  Legolas spun around, an arrow notched and ready to fire... only to find his arrow tip placed up against the chest of a familiar ranger who had his arms up and a grin on his face. 

 

“Hathol-dad!  Easy Legolas!” Aragorn grinned at having been able to surprise the elf prince like this.  “You are becoming far too easy to creep up upon my friend.”

 

Legolas froze for a moment in shock, before quickly dropping his bow and clasping the ranger’s arm tightly, his own smile widening.  Then he gave his friend a small, sharp shove for the overly satisfied look on the human’s face.  “You had us worried mellon-nín, what took so long?”

 

“Oh a little of this, a little of that.”  Aragorn shook his head.  “Give me *some* credit Legolas, it’s not that easy to escape an entire den of bandits out for your blood, especially when your only way out is through the Barrows and the land of the dead.”

 

“Well I suppose I shall let it go this once,” Legolas conceded, although his eyes spoke his true joy at his friend’s safe return.  “But the next time you return from the dead or anywhere else I expect you to be a little more punctual.”  Legolas ran his long fingers over the collar of the ranger’s singed tunic and the sooty ash that clung to the man’s neck and face.  The elf smiled wryly, although his eyes were concerned.  “You look terrible.”

 

“Thank you.  I’ll keep that in mind and try not to be so late next time,” Aragorn chuckled, pulling the elf’s hands lightly away from him.  “I’m all right.”

 

Suddenly, to Aragorn’s surprise, Legolas whirled around, his bow flashing back into his hand, and fired an arrow. 

 

The arrow stuck quivering in the dirt near the edge of camp, next to a now very still Kaldur who had been in the process of sneaking out during the friends’ reunion. 

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Legolas stalked over.

 

Kaldur regarded the arrow beside his foot with a slightly nervous look.  That had been too close for comfort.  He knew the elf had only missed him because he *meant* to miss him... this time. 

 

“Just wanted to give you a little privacy... reunions with old friends and all that...” the bandit protested innocently as Legolas dragged him back to the center of camp and sat him down on a rock where he could keep a better eye on him. 

 

“Your consideration is so touching,” the elf’s voice was dry.

 

“You must be Kaldur,” Aragorn noticed the man for the first time.  “I heard your men speak of you.”

 

“So nice to be recognized,” Kaldur grinned in his uniquely ingratiating manner.  “Well now that you’re here all safe and sound, there’s no need for me to stick around, I’ll just be going and not trouble you anymore...” he started to get up but Legolas’ hand on his shoulder pushed him back down.

 

“You’re not going anywhere, relax,” the elf said firmly. 

 

Elladan and Elrohir were stirring now and Aragorn quickly slipped around behind them, motioning for Legolas to keep silent.  Legolas smiled and shook his head.  These humans... what could you do with them?

 

Elladan rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked around, a little surprised by the morning light.  “Did we sleep all night?  Legolas you were supposed to wake us.  Has there been any news of Estel?”

 

The dark haired elf was puzzled when the elf prince just smiled at him, as if something were incredibly funny...

 

“There has been indeed,” a familiar voice spoke up behind Elladan and the elf started upright and spun around. 

 

“Estel!”  The elf hugged his little brother tightly and Aragorn hugged back, but quickly eased up when he heard Elladan give a slight gasp at the pressure against his healing back.  Concern flickered through the ranger’s grey eyes.  His brother was hurt.

 

Elrohir was shaken all the way awake by his twin’s abrupt movement and sat up slowly.  His head still throbbed a bit and he felt dizzy.  He ran his hand over his face.  “What’s happening El?” he asked, but didn’t turn yet because his balance was off and he felt that his head might roll from his shoulders if he moved too quickly. 

 

“The camp is under attack and you’re too sleepy to know it Elrohir,” Aragorn chuckled from behind him. 

 

Elrohir did not respond, but rubbed his face again, stretching.  “El?” he asked again, hoping his brother would come around to face him so he wouldn’t have to turn just yet, turning his head made him feel sick to his stomach.  “Is everything all right?”

 

Aragorn’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and Elladan and Legolas exchanged sad, troubled looks. 

 

Elladan placed his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder.  “He can’t hear you Estel,” he said softly.  “Something’s happened to his ears.”

 

Aragorn’s heart pinched tightly.  Quickly the ranger came out in front of Elrohir; putting himself in his brother’s line of sight and dropping down to give the elf a welcoming hug. 

 

A huge smile cracked Elrohir’s face.  “Estel!  You’re here!”  He chuckled as he pushed the ranger back to arm’s length to look him over.  “You look a little worse for the wear brother, but I guess we’ll still take you back.”

 

Aragorn laughed, but his eyes were still hurting.  “I’m sorry El, I’m sorry to all of you that I led you into this.”

 

Elrohir mock-scowled.  “Estel, in case they haven’t told you I can’t hear you, but it looks like you’re getting into one of those blasted apologetic fits that you and Elladan are so prone to.  Don’t.  I have a headache and I’m in no mood to try to convince you that whatever you think is your fault isn’t.  Legolas, try to talk reason to him, all right?”

 

Aragorn couldn’t help laughing as he hugged his brother again.  “Well I see your mouth isn’t giving you any trouble.”

 

“Pity,” Elladan rolled his eyes. 

 

Rising, Aragorn looked around.  “Where’s Halbarad?  And Bilbo?  Did he ever turn back up?” his expression was once again one of concern.

 

“Halbarad went looking for Bilbo,” Legolas told him.  “Although if he was not captured with you then chances are that he is perfectly all right and simply took your instructions to run very seriously.”

 

Aragorn nodded.  “I hardly blame him.  But now... we have decisions to make as to our next course of action.”

 

Kaldur smiled and waved somewhat uncertainly when all eyes turned back on him.  “I don’t suppose my suggesting that you cut me loose and we forget the whole thing ever happened is going to do much good?”

 

“We can’t do that,” Aragorn shook his head.  “Besides, it’s not safe for you to go back to your men even if we let you.  They’ve turned against you Kaldur.”

 

Kaldur shook his head.  “Not possible friend, but I thank ye for the concern.”

 

“It is possible,” Aragorn insisted grimly, lightly rubbing the burns on the back of his neck.  “A man named Losmir convinced them that they don’t need you anymore.  Kaldur, they tried to kill me, they had no intention of ransoming you.”

 

Legolas eyes registered shock and anger at this revelation of how close they had come to losing Aragorn. 

 

Kaldur’s normally playful eyes flashed darkly.  He obviously didn’t believe the ranger.  “They wouldn’t do that.”  Suspicion crept into his face.  “You want to know where else they’d go, now that our hideout is known, since I assume you did escape from there.  You want me to sell them out so you’re lying to me.  It’s not gonna work mate.  I thought more of you than that, I really did.”

 

“I’m not lying Kaldur, but I won’t waste my breath trying to convince you of it,” Aragorn shook his head sadly. 

 

Kaldur was sulky and silent for a bit while they struck camp, which to Legolas’ mind was something of a relief. Presently however, he was back to singing and talking to himself as if he hadn’t a care in the world.  He perched himself on the high rock ledge that Legolas had sat look-out on earlier, balancing with apparent ease between the short drop back into camp on this side, and the steep drop down into the rocky valley below on the other. 

 

When Legolas tried to get him on his feet so they could move out, the bandit wouldn’t stand.  He’d let the elf pull him up, but refused to use his legs and would simply fall back down again, grinning all the while and humming as if it were a game.

 

Legolas opened and closed his fists, his face wearing a clear expression of irritation.  Stalking across the now packed-up camp, he grabbed Aragorn’s shirtsleeve and pulled his friend close so he could speak to him privately.  “That man is going to drive me to insanity!” he hissed softly.  “DO something with him!”

 

Aragorn resisted the urge to laugh, because in Legolas’ present state of mind that would clearly not be good for the ranger’s health.  It was true that Kaldur could be irritating beyond belief, but it was humorous how quickly he managed to get under the elf’s usually impassive skin.

 

“Look, come on, get up,” Aragorn tugged the bandit upright, only to have Kaldur sag forward and fall against him before sliding back to the ground and starting another chorus of some incredibly tone-deaf song.  “Come on, you’re not drunk, stop acting like it,” the ranger reigned in his own irritation as he pulled the bandit up again.

 

Kaldur flopped against Aragorn’s chest once more, grinning up into the ranger’s face.  “Ah but I am drunk!  Intoxicated by life you might say, drunk on staying alive... and I mean to keep it that way.”

 

Suddenly Kaldur jumped back.  Aragorn’s dagger flashed in his grip and the ranger’s hand went automatically to his side only to find that of course, it was no longer in his belt where it had been. 

 

In one swift move Kaldur cut the ropes binding his wrists and jumped backward, throwing a parting smile to his former captors.  “So nice to know you all, take care!”  The thief’s backward jump took him right off the edge of the ridge they were standing on.  He fell down into the valley below with a rolling tumble, picking himself up quickly and dodging into the rocks where not even an archer as good as Legolas could pick him out. 

 

Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir were by Aragorn’s side in a moment, but Kaldur had already disappeared from view. 

 

“Should we stop him?” Elladan asked quickly, swinging over the lip of the ridge, prepared to scramble down the steep incline. 

 

“No,” Aragorn put out his arm and held his brother back.  “We should let him get a head start and then track him.  I’ll take any odds that he’s going to run straight back to the rest of his group.”

 

Legolas nodded, swinging his bow back over his shoulder.  “We follow him, we find them... but is that a good idea?”

 

Aragorn hesitated.  “There aren’t that many of them... still, I do not advise we try to take them all on ourselves.  Rather, let us find out where their other hiding places are, and then we can devise a plan from there.  Besides,” he sighed, “things could become interesting.  I was telling Kaldur the truth about his men’s shifting loyalties.”

 

Legolas nodded.  “I fear he is more loyal to them then than they are to him...” a strange shadow crossed Legolas’ face as he flung his attention outward, toward the Downs looming before them.  “And that is not all I fear,” he murmured.  “Though I do not know what shadow troubles my heart about the road ahead.”

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

 

Legolas crouched silently on top of a large cairn of stones that overlooked the Barrow Downs.  He had remained motionless for so long that a passerby might have thought him part of the stones themselves. 

 

Aragorn of course knew otherwise, but he did not interrupt until Legolas straightened and dropped gracefully off the rock, back down to where his friends were waiting. 

 

“You are right Strider, he’s still going around in circles out there.  I don’t think he knows for certain we are following him, but he’s taking no chances.”

 

Aragorn smiled wryly.  “He’s smarter than I gave him credit for yet again, but I’ll wager he has never had to deal with the tracking skills of elves and rangers before.”

 

They had been trailing Kaldur DeCahr at a discreet distance almost all day.  Aragorn had had no difficulty picking up the bandit’s trail, even though it was obvious that Kaldur was doing a pretty good job of attempting to cover it. 

 

They could have retaken the bandit at any point, but they wanted him to lead them to the others.  Therefore, they would play this little game of hide-and-seek for as long as was necessary. 

 

Aragorn looked up quickly when he realized that Legolas was still speaking. 

 

“There is more, someone else approaches.  He is staying hidden, I cannot make him out, but he seems to be following the same trail we have.  He is very close now.”

 

The ranger’s attention was immediately captured.  Someone was following *them*?  Who?

 

“We should rejoin my brothers,” he said quietly, looking around as if his gaze could penetrate the hills around them.  They had left Elladan and Elrohir to watch the other end of the valley. 

 

“Strider...” Legolas’ word was a whisper.  “Our mystery man is here.”  The elf didn’t move visibly, but he gestured with his eyes in the direction he meant, behind and to the right of Aragorn.

 

The ranger whirled around quickly, his sword flashing into his hand... only to drop it back to his side a moment later as both he and Legolas smiled. 

 

“Halbarad!  We have got to stop meeting like this,” Aragorn shook his head, re-sheathing his sword. 

 

“It is good to see you with us again Aragorn,” the other ranger smiled. 

 

Legolas’ brows furrowed slightly.  Halbarad was alone.  “Halbarad, where is Bilbo?”

 

The ranger’s face turned heavy.  “I did not find him,” the frustration in his voice was evident.  He was unused to losing his quarry.  “I followed his tracks for some distance, they were heading towards the Shire, but I lost the trail in the Old Forest.  I’m sorry, I have never seen anyone harder to follow.”

 

Aragorn nodded, he had found out that curious fact about the little hobbit as well. 

 

“I hope no ill befell him,” he said softly.  This was not good news and it weighed on their hearts.  They still had a job to do however.

 

Away in the distance, a lone bird trilled, its call floating softly on the cooling evening air.  Legolas’ head came up attentively, as did Aragorn’s, for they knew at once that it was no bird.  It was a signal from Elladan.  Kaldur was on the move again. 

 

“Come Halbarad, we will fill you in on all that has happened since you left as we go,” Aragorn gestured for the other man to follow as they slid quickly and quietly along to where his brothers were waiting for them.

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

Night was drawing on once more.  Kaldur had spent most of the day intentionally going around in circles and hiding in the hills to throw off anyone who might have tried to follow him.  Now the bandit crept quietly up to the grassy mound near the barrows that his men had found and turned into a hiding place at the outset of their stay near the Downs. 

 

It had been Losmir’s idea when the company had stumbled across an empty tell just inside the woods on the outskirts of the shallow valley that held the barrows.  They had excavated the buried ruins and found the crumbling shell of a stone and brick house inside.  It was nothing more than four walls, only the span of ten paces apart from one another, but it had served them well.  What it had once been and how or why the home had become abandoned in such a way was never a concern for the thieves.  It was the perfect hideaway.  No one would ever suspect it so close to the Downs themselves and rarely did anyone visit this part of the woods.  Those that had, had gotten a taste of the wandering wights that the men had devised to scare the people from becoming too curious.

 

It was smaller and slightly more cramped than their other cave on the far side of the Downs; but that that hideaway had been destroyed by the cave-in the ranger had created yesterday.  It was a good thing they had opted to never put their eggs all in one basket and maintained this second hide-out as well.

 

This particular location had never been Kaldur’s choice of places to stay, there just seemed something wrong with breaking into the mound and occupying it, but the logic behind Losmir’s arguments had won him over...  Unlike the words he could now hear as he stealthily neared the hideout.

 

“I say we hit as many of the houses in one fell swoop as we can tonight and take all we can get.  This place is a wash out.” Losmir argued angrily.  “What do we have to show?  Cows, chickens, a few sets of new shoes and some trinkets.  We haven’t even come into any good sizes of money.”

 

“People could get hurt that way Losmir.”  It was Jalif that replied, his voice of caution calming the others.  “We wasn’t never supposed to be hurting nobody and you know it.”