Chapter Six

Aragorn blinked several times, not sure if he had been dozing or not. His mind seemed to be making its way from a world of twilight into one that was slowly becoming clearer. He must have slept.

The first thing he noticed was that dawn had come. It was still somewhat gloomy under the trees of the small forest, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before daylight reached even here.

He looked down and found that his hand was right where he had left it, resting on Legolas’s chest. It rose and fell in a steady rhythm that reassured the ranger. Even in the dim light, he could see that the elf was no longer unconscious but asleep. His eyes, rather than being completely closed, were now only half so. That was definitely a good sign. If only Grath would wait another day, so Legolas would have more time to recover. He was sure that wasn’t going to happen. The Easterling leader had made it very clear that the journey was going to continue this morning no matter what, and there would be no way to change the man’s mind.

Moving his hand to the elf’s forehead, Aragorn felt for any indication that the archer had developed fever during the night. Legolas’s skin was cool to the touch. A quick check of his pulse told the ranger that Legolas’s heartbeat was stronger than it had been the night before, and though it still wasn’t quite what it should be, his body had made good use of the rest he had been able to get.

Grath’s gruff voice broke the peaceful silence of the early morning. “Come on, you lazy louts. It’s time to get up. We have miles to go before your worthless hides can rest again.”

Those words were followed by a faint thud and a groan. Grath had most likely kicked one of his men to emphasize his command. It was easy to imagine that he had probably enjoyed doing it.

Grath walked over to where the captives were being watched by the two men, who had taken the last watch. He jutted his chin at the ranger. “How’s the elf?” There was no attempt to make his voice sound like he was in any way concerned.

Slowly Aragorn raised his head and stared up at the physically imposing man. In a flat tone, he said, “He needs more rest.”

“Too bad. He won’t get it here. We eat first, and then we move out. Carry him, if you must, but we aren’t staying here. No arguments.” Grath turned away.

“I will have to check Legolas’s wounds,” Aragorn protested, hoping to buy even a few more minutes before the elf would have to be put on his feet and forced to travel.

Over his shoulder, Grath said, “Then do it while we eat. I won’t let him delay us any more than he already has.” There was a subtle but definite note of warning in the leader’s tone.

The campfire had long since burned itself out. There was no dry wood anywhere around, except perhaps up in the tree, and none of the Easterlings, who had guarded the group during the night, were going to go that route again. A cold breakfast was far better than tempting fate by trying to secure more ‘magic’ wood from the tree.

Aragorn unwrapped the cloak from around Legolas and gently shook him, hating to do it but knowing it had to be done. “Legolas, mellon nin, you must wake now.”

The elf moaned slightly, as he turned more toward the sound of the ranger’s familiar voice and inadvertently put too much pressure on his wounded shoulder. He quickly shifted enough to lift his shoulder off the ground.

“Easy,” Aragorn said.

Legolas’s unfocused eyes gradually cleared, and it was soon apparent that he was back in the waking world and remembered everything that had happened.

Seeing that his friend was fully aware, Aragorn said, “I need to check your wounds.”

Having been through this routine many times before, Legolas nodded, and with his friend’s help, he sat up. He had to bite his lower lip to hold back a painful groan, as his shoulder protested the movement.

Pulling the left side of the elf’s two tunics down, the man smiled. The green fabric strips of the elven cloak showed no sign of bleeding. “The cauterization worked. There’s no blood. How do you feel?”

“I have been better,” Legolas admitted. Offering a small grin, he added, “But I am fine.”

Aragorn knew better but didn’t argue. However, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to ask, “Now where have I heard those words before?“

Legolas’s grin widened. He raised both of his eyebrows, as if to innocently say he had no idea.

Compared to the condition Legolas had been in the night before, the ranger was willing to accept the elf’s self-diagnosis. “Good, then you will eat something.” At Legolas’s slight frown, Aragorn held his hand up. “Grath says we leave after everyone has eaten, and you, mellon nin, need to eat to regain your strength. He’s in a hurry to get wherever we’re going, so he won’t let us stop for rest, should you need it on the trail.”

Legolas realized that Aragorn was right. Even if he disagreed, which he didn’t, he wasn’t going to cause his friend another moment of concern on his behalf, if he could help it. “I will eat,” he conceded. The ranger’s grin was the elf’s reward for giving in, and it pleased him.

The ranger got up and walked toward Grath, who was sitting and eating in the little clearing where Donnis and most of the other men had slept. Several of the Easterlings got up and drew their knives at his approach, not sure what the ranger’s intention was.

“We would like something to eat,” Aragorn declared, holding his hands out in front of him in a non-threatening way.

Once Grath was sure Aragorn was not planning anything, he instructed Hobert to provide the ranger and the elf with a share of the food. “Since the elf wants to eat something, I gather he’s better.” There was a touch of sarcasm, since Aragorn had made a point of saying only moments ago that Legolas needed more rest.

“Better but not well,” Aragorn corrected. He was already well aware that he was not going to change Grath’s mind about leaving, but any chance he had to put the fact Legolas was still not recovered into the man’s mind, the better things might be down the line. It was worth a try and wasn’t really a lie.

Hobert secured several strips of dried meat and a few of the berries left over from the day before and handed them to Aragorn. He also gave the man one of the water skins.

Nodding, Aragorn took the offered items and returned to where Legolas sat under the tree. As he approached, he grinned, seeing that the elf had his eyes closed with an almost dreamy expression on his face.

“Talking to the tree?” he asked, as he sat down next to the elf.

Legolas took his hand from where he had been holding it against the tree trunk. “Yes. We have become friends.” Taking the meat strips from Aragorn’s hand, he said, “Hannon le.” He began to chew one of the meat strips.

“I’m curious about something,” the ranger said. “When it was mentioned last night that we needed dry wood for a fire, branches suddenly fell out of the tree. Now how would a tree way out here in the middle of nowhere know to do that?” The man cocked his head to the side, waiting to hear the answer to that.

Legolas’s face broke out in a broad grin. He thought about giving the ranger a far-fetched answer but, in the end, decided to tell the truth. “I told it to.”

“Ah,“ Aragorn said, nodding in understanding. “That makes sense.” Then he frowned. “What about the tree dumping those rain drops on Donnis’s head? You were unconscious then and couldn’t have told the tree to do that.”

“The tree dumped rain drops on Donnis?”

“It sure did.”

Legolas knew that Donnis had to have done or said something against either him or the tree to cause such a reaction. “What did Donnis do?”

“He called the tree cursed.”

Legolas looked up into the thick branches overhead and smiled, as if to say ‘good for you‘. To Aragorn, he said, “I am sorry I missed it.”

Aragorn laughed. “Donnis, not to mention all the others, were terrified. The branches falling had scared them enough already. They slept out in the clearing where they are now. They all suspected dark, elven magic.”

“It’s widely known that we talk to trees, so I suppose to mortals, that would appear to be a form of magic,” Legolas mused.

Aragorn nodded. “Well most men fear what they don’t understand.”

The subject was dropped when the ranger saw Grath rise from where he had been sitting on the ground. It looked like the time for eating was over, which meant it would soon be time to go. “Grath is getting ready to leave. Finish your food. Legolas. You’ll need the strength it will provide.”

Grath approached the two captives. He looked at Aragorn. “Get him up. We’re leaving.” He stood for a moment, as if waiting to see if the other man was going to try and argue. He almost hoped he would. Grath was never reluctant to let anyone and everyone know exactly who was in charge.

“We’ll be ready,” Aragorn assured the big man. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried. We’re going to continue the journey, whether you’re ready or not. We’ll drag the both of you, if necessary.” He left them to get themselves ready.

Legolas wasn’t the least insulted that Grath was talking over him, as if he wasn’t even there. He knew the man was dangerous enough to keep track of, but as a person, he was not worth the effort it would take to feel slighted.

Swallowing the last bite of the dried meat, Legolas reached up to a now standing Aragorn, who took his friend’s right hand and pulled him to his feet.

The elf swayed slightly before steadying himself by grabbing onto the ranger’s shoulder. Once his balance was established, and it was evident he wasn’t going to fall, he let go. “I am fine.”

The words brought a smile to the ranger’s lips, as he reached down, got the long cloak and shook it out before wrapping it around Legolas, securing it with the pin that was still attached to it. He then grabbed the short cloak that had been the elf’s pillow and settled it around his own shoulders. The pin was missing, but he put his pack over one shoulder and the water skin over the other, sure they would hold the cloak in place.

Legolas tried to take the water skin to put on his good right shoulder but Aragorn lightly swatted his hand away. “You don’t need any extra weight,” the ranger told him. “Just keep yourself upright.”

Legolas frowned but did not argue. He was unwilling to admit out loud that keeping himself upright might prove to be harder than he was hoping it would.

When Aragorn saw that the elf was not going to give him an argument, he turned toward the Easterlings, who were now grouped together, waiting for word from their leader to move out.

Grath motioned for the captives to come out from under the tree and come over to them.

Just before moving away, Legolas reached out and touched the tree. ‘Thank you, my friend. If possible, I will return one day to see you.’ The tree gave its own farewell to the silvan elf it had come to know and care about.

Then elf and ranger obeyed the gestured command to join the others. When they reached the Easterlings, the men surrounded the two. Aragorn half expected Grath to grab the pack and water skin and perhaps even the cloaks from them. After all, they had not been allowed to keep any of those things on the way here. There was no move to take the objects. Aragorn wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was grateful.

Just before they all set out, Grath looked at Legolas and Aragorn and pointed his finger. “No more of that elven jubberish. You’ll speak in the Common tongue from now on, and you’ll do it in a voice loud enough for those around you to hear.” After a pause, he siad, “Better yet, don’t talk at all.“ Then he turned and headed down the path tha would take them away from the small forest.

More than one of the Easterlings looked back toward the tree that had sheltered the two captives while confounding themselves and then looked away with relieved expressions on their faces. They were more than happy to be leaving the tree they considered cursed far behind them.

Donnis, the only real ‘victim’ of the tree, refused to even glance its way, once he had turned his back on it. “Good riddance” he muttered in a barely audible voice.

Only Legolas, walking near him, heard it, and it made him smile.

*~*~*~*

Grath kept the group moving at a steady pace regardless of the difficulty of the terraine.

Legolas had been doing his best to travel the trail under his own power. For the most part he had done so. At first even the slight downward turn of the trail had been manageable. However, as the pathway became steeper, he began to have trouble keeping his feet under him.

The first time he stumbled bad enough to lose his balance, only Aragorn’s quick reflexes kept the elf from falling. Two of the Easterlings had drawn their weapons and made a move toward the elf, thinking the move was an attempt to create an opportunity to escape.

Seeing Legolas’s pale face made Hobert doubt that the stumble was anything but a genuine one. Then seeing Aragorn grab the elf and put his arm around his friend’s waist confirmed it. The Easterling moved closer. “Is he all right?”

Aragorn’s concern for Legolas was temporarily overtaken by anger. “Of course, he’s not all right. He’s been forced to walk for hours, when he should have been resting,” the ranger almost snarled.

Hobert didn’t think the elf could go much farther, so he thought about going to Grath at the front of the line and telling him what had happened. He didn’t get the chance, as the leader called a halt and walked back to face the captives, intent on finding out why there was talking.

The Easterling leader was not happy, when he approached the two captives and found the elf with his head down, eyes closed, and the ranger basically holding him up.

Hobert looked up and saw that the sun was past its zenith. “We should stop for the mid-day meal...” he began.

Grath silenced the man with a fierce look and then said, “We aren’t stopping now.” He looked at Aragorn. “Carry him.”

At those words, Legolas’s eyes snapped open and he raised his head. “I can walk.”

The leader looked skeptical. “It doesn’t look like it to me.”

Fire flashed in the elf’s eyes. “I can walk,” he repeated more insistently.

Aragorn knew the pride his elven friend possessed. There had been times in the past, when the ranger had had to resort to carrying the injured elf, but never in front of strangers. Even among friends and family, Legolas usually had to be unconscious. With a sigh of resignation at Grath’s refusal to give in even an inch, the ranger said, “I will see to it he stays on his feet.”

Grath narrowed his eyes but only nodded. He turned and again took up his position at the front of the group and began leading them down the trail.

Legolas fought with all the inner strength he had to keep walking under his own power. He was successful for the most part. Aragorn kept his arm loosely around the elf’s waist just so he would be there in case Legolas stumbled again. He didn’t, though the support was welcome.

*~*~*~*

For the next hour, the captives and their Easterling captors continued moving down the trail. Then they rounded a particularly large outcropping of rock, revealing a large, lush valley, stretching out before them. A ribbon of silver wound its way from an unseen mountain spring below them, across the valley and out of sight.

On the left, several miles distant, rose a dark, stone fortress, complete with turrets and battlements.

Without so much as a glance between them, both Legolas and Aragorn felt that this imposing structure was their destination, and both had a deep foreboding that they were sure would only increase as they moved toward it.

TBC