Cadenza

Set in the same universe as 'Adagio' and 'Mayflies'. One hundred years into
the fourth age.

Drama/Adventure/Angst   A/L/G OC Friendship fic. No slash. R for violence.

Beta by the wonderful

Theresa Green - Read all her stories, they are very
funny, well written, and very good.

Warning  OC death.

Chapter Eighteen

Elladan sprang lightly up the stairs that fronted the great pyre that had been the hall of Meduseld, drawn to the roaring flames like a moth. Elrohir paused on the first landing and scanned the outer-bailey, bow at the ready. There was no sign of anyone moving amongst the clustered outbuildings in this quarter - stables, workshops, storerooms, the place was a warren but apparently an evacuated one. He lifted his gaze and watched the teeming hoards of people and animals moving around in the camps outside of Edoras' walls for a moment. The contrast was eerie.

Elladan, from his perch on the top terrace, also scanned the city. His black hair whipped around his face, blown by the fierce wind augmented by the draw of the fire. Elrohir watched as Elladan took a step or two nearer the southern edge, peering at something, then smiled as his brother ran back and down the stairs to meet him.

"The soldiers of Gondor and Rohan are massed in the streets, down there." He pointed over the shoulder of the hill, behind Elrohir. "They are breaking down a gate with a battering-ram." He tilted his head at his brother who grinned back.

"Sounds like fun.” Elrohir turned and descended the steps again. "Legolas, Gimli! Ell' has found them. This way!" The brothers saw Legolas turn and wave at them, and then they trotted off, around the curve of the hill, heading for the action.

"The quarry is sighted, Gimli. Let's go" Legolas turned, but Gimli placed a hand on his arm to stay him a moment.

"Our quarry is not the King, Legolas. I misbelieve all the hill-scum have departed Edoras so lightly. They will be lurking in nooks and holes awaiting a chance of plunder. They are our prey, and yours, if your cry for revenge be more than bluster."

Legolas turned eyes of ice on his tormenter. "Bluster! Gimli, my father charged me with finding Arwen and Minuial. When I know their fate, then I may indulge in vengeance."

Gimli glared up at his friend, "Bah! Legolas; happy am I that I am no prince. Go, do your daddy's bidding then. My warriors and I will sweep these buildings at least, and see if we can flush some vermin."

Gimli softened a bit at Legolas' outraged expression. He patted his rigid friend on the back, and gave him a shove in the direction Elladan and Elrohir had gone. "Away with you, lad. I will meet up with you, yonder. I have misgivings about these buildings, that is all. Indulge me; such dark and twisted pathways suit dwarves best, aye?"

Legolas measured his friend in the weight of his regard for a second, flicked his glance over the rest of Gimli's stoic guard, and then nodded and sprang away like a hart, following the twins.

ooo

Frecern had been hiding in the sweet straw of the hayloft for what seemed like hours, waiting for his opportunity, as the horse-master and one groom had gradually evacuated the king's stables. He shifted, cursing the sharp blades of dry grass that pricked and itched his sweaty skin, and threatened his security by provoking his nose until the need to sneeze was almost overwhelming.

"Just get going, you lazy, good for nothing, urchin." Frecern muttered as the stable boy followed his master leading the last three, but one, horses. The King's stallion, snorting and pawing in the stall beneath Frecern's hiding place, let out an outraged whinny as the last of his stable-mates left the building.

"Hist, Elarof, the master will be back for you directly.” The boy's high voice reached Frecern in his hiding place, and then all went silent except for the sound of the great horse pacing his stall and the diminishing clip-clop of the led horses as they followed the groom. Sounds from outside filtered in. The roar of the fire consuming Meduseld - Frecern grinned at the success of his ploy - and the nearer sounds of conflict, or at least of military movements. Frecern could hear shouted orders, the tramp of many feet, and then the thudding of what sounded like a ram. All a comfortable several buildings over from where he was hidden, but escape was urgent, and the means was below him. A horse such as Elarof, with a little easy camouflaging, would be enough to set Frecern up in a new life anywhere in Dunland, or to the east.

After a long interval, when the martial sounds from the activity a couple of buildings over had died down to nothing, Frecern hung his head out of the trap-door and scanned the stable below. There, on a peg, a discarded cloak in the livery of Rohan. Frecern shinned down the ladder and darted over to swathe himself in the disguise, and then, he grabbed a halter and a lead rope and approached the great stallion's stall. The horse eyed him warily
and backed into his box, ears back as the smith approached.

Frecern rolled his eyes; this was all he needed, a balky animal. However Frecern was Rohirrim enough to have been around horses all his life. He approached the stallion with confidence and swiftly secured the halter and clipped on the lead rope, smacking the beast on the nose when it attempted to take a bite out of him.

"Enough!" Frecern barked roughly, jerking the animal's head when it tried to pull back. "Come. Now." Frecern towed the very surprised, and slightly cowed, animal out of its stable and started for the door. Elarof was happy enough to be following his stable-mates, so he walked behind the man with no more fuss until they reached the yard. There they both met an obstruction four and a half feet tall and armoured to the teeth, a wicked battle-axe held ready and flashing in the sun.  

"Now, where do you think you might be going, Frecern?" growled Gimli.

Frecern drew his sword, but the horse, which started jigging and pulling at Frecern's iron grip, hampered him. Elarof was a trained warhorse, weapons were not a problem for him, but this strange groom was, and now an enemy had appeared in front of him and anger stained the air and frightened the animal. He pulled and half-reared, forcing Frecern to take his eyes off the dwarf. Frecern brutally hit the horse on the head with the end of the lead rope and pulled it to a halt beside him.

The blade of the dwarf's axe now rested on the back of Frecern's neck, the razor edge cutting the skin beneath by its own weight.

"Yield, man." Gimli demanded, his voice full of poorly-restrained fury, "Yield, or lose that precious head of yours."

Terror loosed Frecern's grip on both his sword and the horse. The sword clattered to the cobbles and the horse prompted by the noise, pulled back, and then struck, with the training instilled over years and the anger provoked by the brutal man who had hurt it. It lashed out at the armoured enemy at its knees.

Frecern, because he was standing so close to the horse, was pushed backwards off his feet and out of the way by the horse's lunge, but Gimli, just in range, collected the full force of the horse's ironclad foot on the top of his helmet. He dropped like a stone, and then the horse sprang over him catching the middle of his back with a rear hoof, laying him out.

Whinnying loudly, Elarof bolted out of the stable yard, trailing his lead rope, quickly followed by the bruised and bleeding form of Frecern, running for his life. Two of Gimli's dwarven guard, attracted by the racket, entered the stable yard just as the pair left it. Exchanging glances, one immediately followed the man, the other started over to his lord.

Gimli, stunned, lay on the filthy cobbles of the yard, trying to get his breath, refusing to let the darkness take him again. Pure fury filled his lungs, "Legolas!" he bellowed at the top of his voice, the sound echoing round the enclosed yard. "It is Frecern. Stop him!" and then injury defeated even dwarven stubbornness, and his world went black from the edges.

ooo

Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas arrived at the kitchen yard just in time to see Arwen run into the arms of her husband. The elves slid inconspicuously around the ring of royal guards, who were looking studiously anywhere but at the royal couple. and made their way into the little green enclave, basking for a moment in the reviving feeling of being around plants and pleasant emotions for a change, rather than around stone and grief.

After a minute or so, Legolas made his way to the other side of the yard where Minuial was still lying on the grass. The prince smiled and nodded at Gleowyn's murmured greeting as he passed her. Gleowyn was retrieving her still-whimpering baby from the servant with the impressive scream. The Master-Smith, Bardor, was leaning over the elf-warrior with a cloth in his hand as Legolas approached.

"Bardor, well met." Legolas started to say, when the smith's head snapped back, and he landed on his rear with an oath. Minuial, still not really conscious, had lashed out at a perceived attack. "Bardor!" Legolas called out in alarm. "Minuial - no!"

Minuial had snatched up the Smith's sword, left on the grass beside her by Arwen, and now she crouched, wavering, one hand steadying herself on the ground, the other holding the blade, the point making unsteady circles above the Master-Smith's heart.

Legolas skidded to his knees in front of the blinking, confused elf. "Minuial," he leaned forward to make eye contact, his voice soft. "Be easy, you are with friends. Come," he inched forward, conscious of the stunned silence that now filled the yard as everyone held their breath. "Give me the sword, Minuial. This man is no foe."

The smith shook his head vigorously, never taking his eye off the unsteady weapon so near to his chest.

Legolas reached out an open palm, and with a gasp like a sob, Minuial loosed the weapon into his hand, and then fell back to all fours, squeezing her eyes shut in pain. Bardor scuttled back out of range and Legolas moved forward to slide a cautious, calming hand over Minuial's shoulders. He became aware of twin shadows that had moved up behind him, and the sudden buzz of renewed conversation around the yard as people took their attention off them in order to give as much privacy as possible.

Legolas eased the still trembling Minuial back into sitting and glanced up at the twins, who had now crouched down in front of them.

"Can you help? See she has a great gash, here." Legolas indicated the bruised area on the side of her head and face. Elladan moved so that he was sitting on Minuial's other side and placed a long white hand round her head, cupping her skull. He closed his eyes. Elrohir motioned to Legolas, who shifted aside and let the other twin take his place. Minuial made a small distressed sound as he shifted so he reached to take her hand. At that moment every head in the courtyard snapped up as Gimli's great shout split the peace. Legolas was on his feet so fast he seemed to blur.

"Legolas, it is Frecern. Stop him!" They all heard, and when they turned, the elf had already sprung to the top of the wall and thence to the roof of the next building over, unlimbering. his bow as he ran across the tiles.

Aragorn pulled, reluctantly away from Arwen's grip. She kissed him, and then helped with the gentlest of shoves.

"Go." She said.

The King held her eye, promising much, for a further second, and then, gathering a squad of guards and

King Elfwine, he set off down the first side-alley that looked like it would take them in the same direction.

ooo

Legolas paused on the roof of the stable-block and looked down in dismay at the sight of Gimli, sprawled on the cobbles, his battle-axe yards away from his hand. He looked so still that for a moment a grief too deep to be borne threatened his sanity, a grey cloud dimming his vision. Thror, on one knee by Gimli's side, must have somehow sensed Legolas' stare because he looked up and met the elf's eye.

"He breathes, my lord. The man went that way. Ris follows, but her legs are shorter than her courage, and the man ran as if he knew you were not far behind."

The news cleared Legolas' head in an instant. Nodding to Thror he sprang away, picking a rooftop route that would take him in the direction the warrior had indicated. As he sped after his prey he tried to make sense of the multiple echoes thrown up by the densely packed buildings caused by a galloping horse, a man's panicked run and the steady thud of a dwarf in pursuit.

Ahead the noise changed character as the horse reached a wide, paved, square and galloped across it heading for the fields it knew outside the walls. Legolas took a short cut across the steeply pitched roof of some civic edifice, and came out on the edge of the square just as Ris reached the same exit the horse had used, about fifty feet behind the fleeing man. The dwarf skidded to a halt and, all in one movement, pulled out a flashing axe and threw it, with all her might, after the fugitive. At the same moment Legolas' great

Galadhrim Bow sang its deadly song.

The man fell, and all the sound that was left was the fading four-beat of galloping hooves, echoing down the alleyways of Edoras.

Ris walked, puffing, over to the corpse. Her axe was wedged firmly in the middle of his back. She looked at the body for a moment then reached down and removed her weapon, wiping it clean on the lying cloak of Rohan he still wore, treacherous to the end. A grief-laden tear worked its way down her nose and splashed onto the material, another followed. She sniffed, and then nudged the body with a booted foot. The two green fletched arrows waved obscenely, but he was good and dead.

"For Nain, human. For our children that will never hold his talent in their hands." She became aware of a tall, calm, presence behind her. "That was a mighty shot, elf." She sniffed again and turned to look up at Legolas, who stood leaning on his bow looking at the corpse. "Although it was my axe that finished him." She tried her best glare on him but was defeated by his gentle smile.  

"It was indeed your axe, Ris. I merely held him still for you."

Ris sniffed her tears away, again, and then turned to stump off back to join Thror and Gimli. "You should eat more, elf. With some meat on those bones, and an attitude like that, you could pass for a decent Dwarf one day."

Legolas escorted her, his merry laugh ringing around the silent streets of Edoras.

TBC

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Rose Sared