First
> Previous
> Next
~~~~~~~~
But it’s not the way it used to be
right now
You’ve come so far to just let this
go my friend
The same way you did the last time
You’ll break if you fall
Don’t make the same mistakes
You’ve got to believe in yourself
this time
--Three Doors Down
~~~~~~~~
Kaldur stood, looking wildly about him between the various
barrows. He had been taken some distance away from where the elf
and the ranger had been lost and all the craggy mounds appeared alike
in the moonlight. His breath frosted on the air before him with
each pant as he tried to calm his breathing and remember. Closing
his eyes, he settled the fear rising in his heart. He had to
remember. A small smile crept onto his face but the terror of the
place held him fast and he raised his hands slightly as if trying to
ward it off while he concentrated. They were here, he knew it, he
could feel it.
“Which one!” bellowed Gandalf. He had run out of patience and his
heart was warning him that they had very little time left.
“Shh... no yelling, that’s not going to help me remember now,” Kaldur
whispered, touching his finger to his lips as he locked his gaze on
Gandalf. Walking to the edge of the man-made hills, Kaldur took a
deep breath and spun around, turning back to look at them, trying in
his
mind’s eye to remember where he had passed. He ignored the tall
wizard who had moved next to him and was glowering down at the
bandit.
“You must be the one who taught Legolas how to frown like that. Why is
it all you people have that same look going on? Must have taken
years to perfect that glower.” Kaldur spoke aimlessly, filling the
unearthly quiet with the sound of his voice before Gandalf interrupted
him.
“If you do not tell me which one it is, the right one this...”
“There! That one!” Pointing to their right Kaldur scrambled back
down into the low valley and ran towards a particularly tall
barrow. He dropped to one knee and scanned the area, his fingers
brushing through the cold, wet grasses. It was difficult, bound
as
he was but a few feet behind him the bandit was rewarded for his
diligence as his hand touched a cold hard object. The
blade. It was the small blade that he had thrown down to mark the
barrow.
“Yes this is it!” The highwayman stood holding the marker and
pointing with it towards the barrow. “This one! Hurry up
and
get them out!” He patted the side of the grassy mound, dropping
the knife quickly into a pocket of his long vest.
Gandalf had gained his side, Elladan close on the wizard’s heels.
The Maia simply pushed the smaller human out of the way, glaring at
him sternly. Kaldur danced just out of reach but stopped when
Halbarad cleared his throat, shaking his head when the bandit laid an
innocent, wide-eyed gaze on the ranger.
Elrohir stood off a bit, not getting too close. The dread of the
evils that inhabited the barrows filled his heart and without his sense
of hearing he felt vulnerable and defenseless. He did not like
the Barrows, he never had and now that feeling was worse than
ever. The younger twin moved away from Halbarad and stood in
front of the captive bandits, watching intently as Gandalf placed his
hand on the sealed-over entrance to the barrow.
“Told you I’d find it I did! Never forget a thing I don’t.” The
highwayman tapped the side of his head with his forefinger, “See?
Old Kaldur still comes in handy. Good thing you had me here
to help you out.” The bandit carried on behind Elladan until the elf
turned a glare upon him.
“Keep quiet or I will feed you to the wight myself and then you won’t
have to worry about the villagers,” the twin threatened softly.
Kaldur’s eyes grew wide as he raised his eyebrows at the thought of
being handed over to a wight and he ran his fingers across his mouth
with a flourish as though sealing it shut with the motion. The
threat however didn’t wipe the grin from his face as Elladan simply
shook his head and turned back to see how Gandalf was faring.
“Get back up the hill with your men.” The elf twin motioned the thief
away from them. When Kaldur finally moved off, encouraged by
Halbarad’s motions to join them, Elladan turned back to see how Gandalf
was faring.
The wizard was pressed against the mound of dirt, listening intently.
“Strider? Legolas? Can you hear me?” Gandalf called, his
voice so commanding that it seemed even the layers and layers of earth
dare not try to block him.
“Mithrandir?” Legolas’ voice came back to him muffled, faint and filled
with fear.
At first the prince thought he was hearing things, but
then he knew he was not. He did not know how the wizard came to
be there, but he did not care; his and Aragorn’s only hope rested in
the Istar’s hands. “Mithrandir! We must get out of
here! I’m losing Estel!”
The wizard’s expression turned even graver at the hint of panic in the
elf prince’s usually collected voice. “Is Strider alright?
Legolas listen to me and calm down. Is Strider conscious?”
Gandalf spoke slowly and loudly as he leaned against the now firmly
closed off door.
“Come on, get up here.” Halbarad met Kaldur part way up the hill,
motioning the robber in his direction. Taking the man by the
elbow, he escorted the thief back to where the others were still
sitting
on the slope. “Now stay put,” the ranger commanded darkly.
Once back up out of the valley Kaldur moved slightly away from his men,
choosing to stand on the far side of his companions where he could get
a good view of what was going on below. Halbarad glanced over at
the highwayman a few times, contenting himself that the man would not
try to escape.
Losmir was not as patient in biding his time as his leader, and he had
been constantly working the knots on his bonds. His hands were
nearly freed when Kaldur glanced back him, his eyes narrowing as he
watched his men. Something was wrong; they were antsy and
watching Losmir closely with furtive glances.
The small stirrings behind him caught Kaldur’s attention and he turned
to glance back at his captured crew once more.
Breaking free of his captivity, Losmir lunged forward, kicking an
unsuspecting Halbarad in the back of the knees and dropping the man to
the ground. As the ranger fell the thief pulled Halbarad’s sword
from his sheath. He tossed the sword into the air so it spun end
over end and grabbed the hilt, bringing it down hard against the
ranger’s skull. Even with the injuries he had recently taken,
Losmir was still a formidable foe. Caught by surprise while his
attention was fixed on the frightening scene in front of him, Halbarad
crumpled into the grass and did not move. He hadn’t even had a
chance to cry out.
With the ranger out of commission, Losmir set his sights on
escape. The only thing standing between him and freedom now was
the deaf elf that stood with his back to him a little further up the
hill. Losmir heard Kaldur yell his name but was too intent on
escape; he would deal with his traitorous leader another time.
First he intended to get out of here... his hand tightened on the hilt
of the sword. Kaldur he would hunt down at his leisure, but right
now his anger would sate itself with the lifeblood of the elf who was
in his way. He could not tell the twins apart, nor would he have
cared if he could have. All he cared was they would pay, just
like he had promised. Losmir always kept his word in these
matters.
Elladan spun around at the sound of Kaldur’s shouted warning, but the
elf who needed it most could not hear call.
“No!” The anguished cry was the only reaction Elladan had time to give
as his mind registered in a flash that, as far away as he was, he could
never reach his brother in time to save him.
Kaldur was already running up the small hill on Elrohir’s right.
The elf, still unaware of his danger or what was going on around him,
stood watching Gandalf intently, worried for Estel and Legolas.
He frowned as Elladan turned towards him. The look on his twin’s
face was one of surprise and horror but he did not understand the
reason behind the warning. Had something happened to Estel?
Kaldur slid behind Elrohir, shoving the elf out of the way as Losmir
swung out with the sword he wielded. Stepping into the blow,
Kaldur raised his bound hands and used the down swinging arc to sever
the ropes that held him. The momentary surprise that his actions
won him were all he needed to outsmart his former second-in-command and
he ducked low under the next swipe of the sword. Swinging upward,
Kaldur slammed his fist into Losmir’s midsection, doubling the robber
over and sending him off balance. The sword fell from his hands
as his captain danced out of the way of his clumsy attempts to defend
himself. Losmir stumbled forward under the impact of Kaldur’s
fists as they connecting with the small of his back, sending him
sprawling.
Tumbling down the grassy incline Losmir bumped up against the mound of
a barrow. Its blackened doorway, one of the few still open, yawned like
a mouth behind him. A low, groaning moan escaped from inside the
tomb and he tried to move away, but was prevented from doing so as
Kaldur’s foot pressed down against his chest. The tip of a sword
scraped the underside of Losmir’s chin, forcing him to glance up into
Kaldur’s eyes.
Elladan left Gandalf and ran to his brother’s side, but Elrohir was all
right and still didn’t even know he’d been in any danger so Elladan
stooped quickly to check on Halbarad, leveling warning glares at the
other bandits who looked as if they would like to use the distraction
to try something.
“Don’t even think about it!” the elf warned, swiftly drawing his bow to
keep them covered. The elder twin glanced over his shoulder down
the hill were Kaldur and Losmir were fighting. The two bandits
were going to have to work their own problem out; he had his hands full
up here and at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care very much
if they killed each other.
“Why are you helping them?”
Losmir sputtered, shifting uneasily under
his former leader’s intense gaze. “We have to get out of
here! You had the leverage we needed but you’re too soft to use
it. It’s why we never made the big hauls, it’s why you would have
lost the lot of them. They’d have sided with me over you given a
chance to really think about it.”
Kaldur held the sword tip dangerously close to Losmir’s jugular
vein. “What we,
Losmir? Maybe I’m helping them because as
of yet they haven’t betrayed
my trust and tried to stab me in the
back... Although I’m sure your first thought was going to be to get the
rest of us free, not just run off and save your own hide...” His tone
suggested that that was actually not at all what he thought. “Of
course maybe,” he smiled. “I just don’t like ye. And
neither do the men if they’ve got any sense.”
“Traitor!” Losmir spat.
“Well ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” Kaldur
laughed. “You’re a fine one to talk... You really thought you
could lead them, didn’t you? You thought you could cross me and I
would simply disappear?” Leaning down harder Kaldur’s eyes narrowed as
he whispered viciously, “You were wrong, mate.”
Out of the corner of his vision Kaldur saw the ghostly form of a bony
hand reach outside the darkened barrow opening. Slipping the
sword up the side of Losmir’s chin he kicked the man towards the
doorway, backpedaling quickly as the wight grasped Losmir’s foot and
pulled the unwilling victim into the barrow with him. The screams
of the trapped human echoed in the unearthly wail of the evil that
inhabited the ancient tomb.
Before the doorway could seal itself properly, Kaldur reached inside
his long vest and brought out one of the small black boxes he had
pilfered from his own hideout earlier.. Striking his blade against a
small piece of flint embedded into the top of the box, he lit the
device and tossed it into the barrow.
“Get down!” Running back towards his men, he yelled a warning.
Elrohir was standing a small distance away, where Elladan had moved him
to keep him out of danger. He was quite near, but looking around
in semi-confusion as he knew things were happening and it was
frustrating him that he didn’t know what. Of course he could not
hear Kaldur, but the bandit knew that and purposefully set his course
so that he slammed into the younger elven twin, bodily forcing him to
the ground. “Get down!”
Kaldur’s hands covered Elrohir’s already damaged ears and he
instinctively curled around the elf, shielding him from the debris as
the barrow exploded. Shards of stone and splinters of wood shot through
the air as the mound collapsed upon itself. The groaning of the
earth was coupled with the shrieking wail of the angered wight as its
haunt was destroyed and its spirit displaced, forced to flee back to
Mordor, seeking out its master.
The dark of night seemed to deepen as the wight passed out of the
valley and the terror of its presence was like a heavy weight on the
living inhabitants as it fled.
Silence fell in the small meadow as though every living thing was
holding its breath. A slight wind had picked up and slowly
dispersed the cloud of dust that hung in the thick summer air.
Carefully, Kaldur rolled off of Elrohir and glanced down at the elf to
see if he had survived the blast.
“Fool!” Gandalf thundered, storming towards the bandit captain.
Kaldur flipped over on his back and tried to move away from the
imposing form of the tall wizard. His head was still ringing from
the explosion and he didn’t have his balance quite yet.
“What were you thinking?! Do you want to bring every wight in
this place down upon us?! Have you no sense at all?” Gandalf
followed the small man as he backed away. “I have never met
anyone as entirely without intelligence as you seem to be.”
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you.” Kaldur smiled irritatingly up at
the wizard, “My ears. The explosion and all.” He pressed
his pinky finger into his ear and moved it around, “They’re not
working.”
“Neither is your brain.” Gandalf bent over and glared at the
bandit. Through whatever magic he used the wizard darkened the
night around them and appeared to grow even taller as the bandit stared
at him, “If you so much as move from this position or speak even one
word I will take care of you myself, do you understand?” The
Maia’s words were soft and lethal as he spoke and the bandit below him
pressed farther back against the wet grass. “Do you!?”
“Yes.” Kaldur smiled up at the wizard, his sense of inane humor
overcoming the situation, “Crystal clear, no questions about it.”
“Good, then keep quiet!” Gandalf turned and stalked away.
Sitting up, Kaldur rubbed the back of his neck and twisted his
shoulders trying to work the kinks out of his back. The blast had
hurt more this time than the last one; he was getting too old to be
playing with explosives at such a close range. It surprised him
when Elrohir came and sat quietly next to him in the grass.
The elf didn’t say a word, just watched as Gandalf stalked back to the
barrow they were trying to free Aragorn and Legolas from.
After a few moments Elrohir spoke up, “Yes. He always talks like
that,” he said quietly.
Kaldur chuckled softly. “How did you know I was thinking that?”
“Probably wondering how I knew you were thinking that, aren’t
you?” Elrohir glanced at the bandit a slight grin on his
face.
Kaldur nodded, his own grin widening. It was humorous having a
conversation with someone who couldn’t hear him.
“Everyone asks that, the first time they meet him.” Elrohir spoke
quietly, not needing to explain further. His eyes riveted to the
barrow that held his adopted brother.
With a nod, Kaldur pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his head
on his arms, watching the activity below him. He was incredibly
tired.
Halbarad had recovered from the surprise attack and Elladan had joined
him to keep an eye on the rest of their captives when he saw that
Elrohir was still fine.
On the inside of the stone and earth mound before them, however, things
were not as well.
Legolas pounded on the walls of the barrow. Dirt rained down on
him coating his hair and getting in his eyes. He blinked rapidly,
trying
to clear his vision. The hounding terror had not left but he
tried desperately to ignore it.
Beside him Aragorn leaned hard against the concave wall, the will of
the wight was winning and he could barely stay awake. He was
trying to for Legolas’ sake, but every time he lost to the wight it was
harder to fight his way to back to consciousness. His breathing
grew shallower and shallower as deadly cold sleep seeped into his mind
covering his thoughts like a dull, numbing blanket.
“Legolas?”
The ranger slipped sideways, resting against Legolas again, the dead
weight of his relaxed body forcing the elf to catch him and lower them
both quickly to the ground.
“Mine.” A low hissing voice sounded in the darkness behind
him.
“He is not! Not yours!” Legolas pulled Aragorn in front of
him, shielding him with his own body and propping him against the dirt
wall. By this point he was frantic with fear. Gandalf
seemed to have left and there was no way out. The elf had just
about expended as much of himself to keep them safe as he could and he
felt the dark, pervasive evil clutching at his failing
defenses. The muffled sounds of an explosion from somewhere close
by was followed by a rain of dirt that showered down on them. The
very structure of the barrow itself seemed compromised. Panicked,
the elf tried to dig through the burial mound. It should have
been an easy task but the dirt stuck fast to the walls and never
crumbled free.
A thrill of terror passed through the elven heart, nearly stopping it
as the wight brushed Legolas’ shoulder with its cold, bony hand.
“You are mine,” it whispered.
Turning swiftly the prince whipped out one of his elven blades and
forced the glow around him to brighten slightly although it took almost
everything he had left inside him.
“I am not!” The elf stepped back, tripping on Aragorn’s still
body. Legolas threw his left arm back, steadying himself against
the cave wall as the wight flinched away from the pure light that
emanated from the elf; more deterred by that then the weapon in his
hand.
“Legolas?” Gandalf’s voice sounded far away and muffled.
Holding his blade out to ward off the evil presence, Legolas
half-turned towards the call. “Gandalf! You must hurry.
Aragorn
is lost to it; I cannot wake him!”
The desperation in the elven voice alarmed the Maia. The wight
was very powerful and every spell and command the wizard had used thus
far had been fully countered by the evil within.
“Enough of this.” Gandalf muttered. Waving his hand over
the glowing crystal set into the top of his staff, he elicited an even
brighter gleam. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure that
everyone was far enough away, he placed the tip of his staff against
the
barrow and called out to the occupants inside.
“Legolas, move to the far side of the barrow!”
“I cannot! The wight blocks our path!” The elf’s voice was hedged
with a nearly palpable fear.
“Listen to me, Firstborn, and do as I tell you!” Gandalf took a
deep breath knowing just how hard it would be for the elf to obey
him.
Legolas closed his eyes and sagged down next to his friend. “Aragorn,
by the Valar I swear to you now, I will never go underground with you
again in my immortal life.” Taking a deep breath he grabbed the
ranger by the tunic and shifted the human over his shoulder.
“If it opposes you, simply walk through it. It cannot own you;
you are not mortal. Trust me on this, young one.” Gandalf
pressed closely to the barrow, hoping that the elf could overcome the
fear that choked him.
“I will, Gandalf! Whatever you are going to do, do it now!”
Legolas pushed away from the earthen wall and ran towards the opposite
side of the cavern.
The fingers of the wight caught in his clothes and snagged in the
tangles of Aragorn’s wavy locks, but the elf did not stop until he
reached the far wall. Dropping to the ground he covered the
unconscious human with his own body, his face buried in the ranger’s
hair.
The air around them seemed to compress, becoming heavier, weighing
heavily and pressing the two beings down. An electricity played
through the stale atmosphere inside the barrow and built till it nearly
hummed inside the elf’s head. Legolas covered his ears and
stifled the gasp of pain. He was aware of nothing but the aching
pressure in his lungs and head.
The wight screamed in anger, its piercing cry shooting through the
elf’s heart.
“GANDALF!” Legolas barely recognized his own voice.
With a burst of power, the walls of the barrow exploded outward.
A shimmering white bubble around the Maia protected him from the
flying debris that raced after the ripple of light moving outward in a
perfect circle away from the middle of the Downs.
The wight, seeing what it was up against, shed the corpse that it had
been using and fled quickly, leaving a trail of fear and terror in its
wake that rippled like the waves on a pond across the meadow. The
bandits cringed as the ethereal spirit blew past them, leaving the land
of the free peoples on its way back to its master.
In the center of the field two figures lay illuminated by the
moonlight, wrapped tightly around one another and as still as
death.
Kaldur jumped to his feet but Elrohir grabbed the smaller man and
pulled him back down. “No, wait.” His own fears ate at him,
but he knew they should let Gandalf deal with this situation
first. He watched intently as the wizard walked slowly towards
the unconscious companions.
Elladan was already running into the meadow, not prepared to
wait. Halbarad glanced anxiously back at the men he was guarding,
knowing this would be the perfect opportunity for them to make a run
for it.
“You all stay put or you’ll join Losmir. Don’t be giving that
ranger any trouble now, you hear me?” Kaldur called to his men,
noting the ranger’s concern. He smiled casually at
Halbarad. He really wasn’t fond of the man but he didn’t want any
more of his men killed or injured. They were a good lot and
followed orders well, they just got a little led astray
sometimes. He hadn’t given up hoping that they were all going to
somehow get out of this... they just had to avoid doing anything
stupid. After that last little display of the wizard’s power, he
decided that trying anything with these people right now would
definitely classify as stupid. His gaze drifted back to the
meadow as Gandalf and Elladan crouched down next to Aragorn and
Legolas.
The elven twin gently pulled the elf prince off of his adopted
brother. Soot and dirt covered them both.
Aragorn was barely breathing, still trapped in the near-death sleep
brought
on by the wight.
Gandalf wrapped one of his large hands around the younger man’s head,
his thumb touching Aragorn’s right temple, his index finger brushing
the left. It was hard to hear the words he spoke and Kaldur was
positive he wouldn’t have understood a one of them, but whatever
transpired had worked. The ranger took in a deep breath,
releasing it in a soft moan. He glanced groggily around him as
Gandalf pulled him slowly to his feet.
“My word...” a soft voice breathed, and Kaldur looked up with a start
to find that there was a hobbit standing quite close to him, although
he was certain there had been no one there a few moments ago.
Legolas had recovered somewhat as well and was being led away from the
destroyed barrow by Elladan who carefully walked the partly conscious
elf around the chunks of dirt and stone that littered the meadow.
Legolas held Elladan’s shoulder tightly for balance, but his senses
seemed to be slowly coming back to him.
Gandalf, guiding Aragorn, gave a sharp look of surprise when he saw
Bilbo standing near Elrohir and Kaldur and his brows furrowed.
For a moment, Bilbo looked equally surprised, as if he hadn’t expected
to be noticed. He half-glanced down at his hand in his pocket
before his fingers found the smooth, round object that must have slid
off his finger without him noticing it. That was happening more
and more often of late and it troubled the hobbit. But his gaze
was unconcerned when he smiled somewhat sheepishly at Gandalf. “I
was worried. We Baggins’ don’t run out on our friends in
trouble.”
Gandalf shook his head, a small smile touching his lips. “So I
see. Well since you decided to not
heed my good advice, come
and make yourself useful. I should have known he’d never stay
behind...” the wizard muttered the last part half to himself and half
to Aragorn as he eased the younger man down onto the ground.
Bilbo hurried over to help, although Aragorn was a bit too large of a
man for him to be very useful.
The ranger was still trembling lightly in a state of semi-shock, but
his eyes were beginning to clear and focus once more as he came back to
himself, shaking off the last remnants of the cold darkness that had
tried to swallow his soul.
“What was that?” Aragorn
whispered softly as he was guided to a seat
on the cool grass, some distance away from the barrows. Legolas
was seated next to him and Gandalf draped a blanket over the elf’s
shoulders. Bilbo took a second one from Elladan and wrapped it
around Aragorn’s shoulders as well, getting to it before Gandalf
could. The wizard looked amused and Aragorn smiled a shaky thanks
to the hobbit.
“It was evil.” Legolas was staring at the grass in front of him, his
fingers knotted tightly in the blanket around his shoulders although he
did not physically need its warmth. “It was evil... like Mordor,”
the last part was barely a whisper. “Like him.”
The elf bowed his head and breathed slowly, rocking slightly back and
forth. He was healing well, but as he had told Aragorn earlier in
their journey, some things took time to repair. Legolas’
experiences in Mordor were one of those things. The evil they had
just faced was too close, too near to the oppressive darkness and
terror he had experienced there. Barrow-wights held far too much
in
common with ringwraiths for the elf’s comfort. He had withstood
the
evil creature, but the mental and emotional cost had not been
light.
Aragorn, beginning to come out of his own daze, caught his friend’s
words and looked over sharply. Scooting closer he instinctively
wrapped his arm around the elf’s shoulders, drawing the shivering being
partway into the folds of his own blanket with him, although he knew
that it was not cold which was afflicting his friend.
“But you bested it, Legolas. It couldn’t have you and you didn’t
let it have me,” he whispered back.
Legolas allowed it when Aragorn pulled him closer, letting the ranger
rest his arm around the elf’s strangely chilled shoulders. He
sighed and gave a small chuckle as he looked up to meet his friend’s
somewhat bleary, but concerned gaze. He knew that of everyone
here, Aragorn alone understood what he meant, understood what facing
that evil again so soon after having almost been broken by it did to
the elf’s spirit. And yet, just as when he had faced down the
wight, although his body felt drained to the last ounce of strength,
his spirit came away stronger from this encounter. It seemed that
healing truly did come in very, very strange ways sometimes.
Legolas gripped the fingers of Aragorn’s hand on his shoulder lightly
and gave them a squeeze. “No, mellon-nín,
it shall never
have either of us,” he spoke quietly in elvish.
Gandalf, standing behind them, smiled and laid one gnarled hand on the
side of each of their heads. “You two lead a charmed life, I hope
you realize that. I warrant you keep the Powers above working
overtime on your behalf.” There was a smile in his voice, and the
burden of care that the evil left behind lifted from their hearts at
his touch.
Pressing forward, Elladan and Elrohir hugged first Aragorn, then
Legolas and then Aragorn again, so great was their relief.
“Aragorn, when we heard you were inside the barrow... I thought my
heart would stop, brother,” Elladan confided in elvish as he held the
ranger tight.
Aragorn smiled and gave him a playful squeeze. “You just didn’t
want to face Father after coming home without me.”
“Well that too...” Elladan smiled. “So sorry, Father, we lost the
hope of mankind today...” he deadpanned and Aragorn punched his
shoulder lightly, causing Elrohir to laugh. The younger twin
didn’t say much anymore since his hearing loss, but his grin was huge.
Gandalf shook his head at them, amused. “Hush, speak not too many
words about your brother thus in open company,” he chided.
The younger beings obeyed, but thought no harm of their words since
they spoke in the elvish tongue, which would be completely unfamiliar
to any of the prisoners present.
Bilbo, however, caught the entire exchange, having learned the higher
tongue many years ago. He said nothing, tucking the information
away in his mind as he brought Aragorn and Legolas some warm mugs of
tea that he made over the small fire Halbarad had started.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” Aragorn nodded at the hobbit as he wrapped
aching fingers around the warm cup. “You had us very
worried. I’ve never seen anyone who could vanish quite as fast as
you can,” he smiled.
Bilbo smiled back, the discomfort that flittered across his face so
fleeting that it was unnoticeable. “Yes, well, we hobbits are
good at that sort of thing. I’m sorry I ran out on you both in
the woods, but I didn’t think I’d be much good so I went for
help.”
“And help you found,” Gandalf laid his hand on the hobbit’s short,
curly head in a fond, friendly manner. These two were obviously
very old friends. “Even if you are
a troublesome hobbit who
doesn’t listen to good advice...”
“And no better help could we have asked for than you, Mithrandir, thank
you,” Legolas nodded, feeling very tired.
Gandalf nodded. “I think it would do both of you good to rest
now.”
Halbarad and Elladan were getting the prisoners securely bedded down
for the night and the elf prince was tired, but...
“Is it safe here, so close?” Aragorn voiced Legolas’ unspoken
thoughts.
Gandalf smiled. “It is safe. Fear not, my friends; no
creeping wraiths shall stir us this night. Not while I am here.”
First
> Previous
> Next
top