Authors' Note: Sarah here! Not only late (which is becoming typical of me), but really late! I'm sorry for that, and sorry too that I wasn't able to respond individually to all your fantastic feedback for the previous chapter! My excuse, unfortunately, involves a smashed up car (mine) and a strained neck (also mine) which have both been doing their best to distract me. Once the Advil kicks in and the insurance agent calls back, I should be able to go right back to our regular schedule (such as it is) and chat more with you all. Hannah and I thank you for your patience; you're a marvelous bunch of readers!  Enjoy!

Chapter 22

Strained Reception of The Unforgiven

May 7

Northern Rohan

Aragorn and Legolas had traveled on foot for two days when the elf turned to his friend with a queer smile on his face.

"Strider? Should we let him catch up?"

The king allowed himself an answering smile. Without replying in so many words, he sat down against the bole of a large tree and rested his wrists on his knees. "I needed a break anyway, and likely you need it every bit as much."

Legolas ignored the comment, but could not quite hide his relief as he too sat down. "Where do you suppose he's been all this time?"

"Tantur's a lot like his uncle. Dogged and loyal. I'd imagine he's been tracking us ever since our capture, possibly even thinking to rescue us, and then saw us escape. It is a good thing he did not get a chance to try anything foolish."

"True, but it sounds like he lost the horse as well."

Aragorn flicked a piece of twig at his friend, chuckling as it caught in Legolas' hair and the elf glared at him. "Are you going to tell me you don't miss running across Rohan on foot? But then, I suppose you are getting on in years…"

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When Tantur finally crested the rise, out of breath and exhausted from sleepless nights, residual poison, and long tracking, he saw below him a strange sight…

Elessar, King of Gondor and Arnor, and Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood and Lord of Ithilien, were sitting beneath the trees — and pelting each other with twigs.

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May 9

Southern Rohan

The air was unnaturally cold. The wind cut down through the ravine in an ominous fashion, carrying dust and ashes across the mounds of earth that covered the dead Corsairs of a few nights ago — all of them slain by the blades of their comrades. However, these dead were the lucky ones…only no one knew it yet.

The figure was carried in upon a shadow and the sentry posted by the camp entrance was not expecting the elf's sudden appearance at his side.

"I'm come to see your leader." The voice rasped like steal against coarse leather.

"Ringa is over by the fire sh-sharpening his blades." The man cursed his lips for stuttering, but he could not help it with the cool presence that stood like a vapor beside him.

"Miksa?" Vardnauth questioned, drawing a step closer to the man.

"Killed in a brawl, just a few nights ago…w-when the prisoners escaped." The man felt his heart clench in horror, had he spoken that aloud? To the Shadow?

"Prisoners?" Vardnauth's tone was suddenly low, Miksa's fate utterly forgotten.

"Yes sir…" The guard did not wish to continue, but did not have a choice. "Miksa caught them, but then they escaped the camp during the brawl…" The sentry trailed off, afraid to say more.

"I see." Vardnauth nodded. "Thank you for your kind assistance. I shall speak to… Ringa about this."

The air before the sentry fogged with his relieved sigh as the elf finally passed him and entered the camp; he could not believe he had escaped the encounter alive, and he felt certain that Ringa would not be so fortunate.

Ringa was carefully sharpening his favorite sword. It had a bite and a gleam he hoped would one day become legendary. There was only one person Ringa himself had ever feared, and all others who knew any of the stories of this fierce Corsair knew well to fear him.

A shadow fell across the human, blocking his light, and he was about to run whoever it was through — but when he looked up into the cold eyes of his visitor, such thoughts left his mind immediately before the elf could see them there.

Ringa stood, dropping his sword to his side and trying to recover from his inattention. There was only one person Ringa had ever feared and he recalled all over again the reasons the Shadow had given him to fear.

"Ringa, what is this that I hear about Miksa's prisoners escaping your…care?"

Ringa did not trust the way the elf's gravelly voice rose and fell in almost polite tones, it unnerved him.

"Miksa took two prisoners he found somewhere in Southern Rohan, I believe. He brought them here for you, but they escaped four nights ago."

Vardnauth carefully inspected his left hand, twisting it at the wrist until he was staring at his palm, before flicking his deadly gaze up to Ringa. "I understand from your sentry that it was during the distraction of a brawl that the two prisoners escaped."

Ringa swallowed hard. It was time for some careful lying if he was ever to live through this night. "One of the prisoners had a pendent with him, an expensive one by the look of it. Miksa tried to keep it for himself and when I said it must be brought to you, he lunged to take it and I was forced to kill him. That was when the brawl broke out between my men and his."

Vardnauth's eyes, far from releasing Ringa from their lethal hold, narrowed to hard slits at the man's words. "Where is this pendant?"

The man's hand moved quickly to his pocket, pulling out the pendent on its woven chain, and handing it over to the elf. Vardnauth looked down at the sparkling white gem as it glowed beneath the moonlight, recognizing it instantly.

"Ringa…" Vardnauth's voice was suddenly harsh and calculating, all pretence of casual interest gone. "Were these two prisoners a man in Dúnadan garb and an elf with golden hair… by any chance?" The last phrase was spoken slow and deliberate, telling Ringa that the elf already knew the answer.

"They were, my lord." Ringa felt his voice jerking as his mind scrambled wildly for a suitable lie. "But that's just it, the elf had powers that we couldn't fight."

"Powers?" Vardnauth's voice was hard and scornful and an ugly sneer marred his face as he stepped closer to Ringa. "You do not know the real meaning of power, Ringa. Not yet, that is."

Ringa must have seen his end coming. Before the elf could move, the Corsair jumped back, raising his sword and striking out at Vardnauth. The elf sidestepped the clumsy blow and continued to move forward. Ringa retreated, sword shaking, and swung the weapon again, but Vardnauth's knife was faster, slicing across the wrist of his sword hand so that he dropped his blade with a scream. He stumbled, his ankle struck a log and he fell backwards, and he continued to squirm away, struggling on his elbows through the grass in the fruitless attempt to escape.

"You have greatly displeased me, Ringa. Had you been a more trusting fool I might have let you live, but since you so wish to see powers, I am given full leave to sate my thirst for vengeance on your pitiful head!"

Ringa was not prepared when the elf suddenly leapt forward, cold fingers wrapping themselves around the human's head. There was a sharp burst of pain and Ringa screamed. Vardnauth could have drawn it out, could have made it long and slow, but he had no time for play and he wanted it to be painful.

"Pain, suffering, hurt, illusive sleepless nights, nights filled with dreams, dreams of torment and lost hope because you know where you are going, Ringa! You know where you are bound this very night." Ringa tried desperately to pull away as he was assaulted by horrific images — memories of a hideous life that crushed his dark spirit like an avalanche. "Death Ringa, look at all the DEATH!" With one final scream, Ringa slid to the ground — writhing like one deprived of sanity, and at last he choked out his final breath.

Vardnauth placed the glittering pendant into his pocket and turned to face the camp. Several Corsairs watched him in horror, a few had fled into the night away from the hideous sounds Ringa had made in his last moments.

Despite his billowing rage at how his Corsairs had failed him, Vardnauth smiled. Let them run; none of them would escape his wrath, and not all would live to see the morning.

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May 11

Rivendell

Light and leaves cascaded down through the trees of Imladris. Bereft of Lord Elrond and Vilya alike for several years now, it still clung tenaciously to the beauty it had once possessed. At the same time, anyone who had visited it before could easily see it was slowly falling prey to the wild world around it, and it was only a matter of time before it was swallowed into its surroundings, simply a beautiful illusion covered by ivy and thorn.

For now, however, the weary traveler who rode through the trees felt that the fading beauty was the fairest sight he had seen in days and he was comforted by the echoes of elven voices that whispered from the trees around him. He was not an elf by any means, but elves had lived in these woods so long they had left an imprint that he felt sure would never leave it no matter how long it aged.

Eression reined in his horse until it had nearly come to a complete stop. He was being watched closely; he had expected it.

"Peace, guardians, I mean no harm to the realm of elder days and seek only the council of the wise." The words were delivered with assurance and grace, but the soft laugh that followed them did well to break the mystery.

"We've no wise ones here, my good traveler, but if you wish to speak to the lords of rocks and dust and ill-appearance there are plenty to be found in these woods."

Eression smiled in spite of himself. "I seem to recall, good lord, that when the words for unhindered passage were instituted, the law was for those hiding among the trees to hear the words and silently allow a traveler safe conduct."

"Ah, yes," the voice returned unconcernedly. "It was as you say in the days when elves lived and tended this realm, but we've run nearly all of them off now and it is our, particularly my, desire to speak with those who pass through, for otherwise there is naught but the birds with whom to converse and they speak in the most difficult dialect."

"Malvegil, it is good to see that our king commissions such great tasks for his loyal subjects," Eression replied, at last admitting his amusement with a slight smile.

"Nonsense." Malvegil, for it was indeed the ranger, dropped down from a tree beside Eression, landing neatly on the ground. "He had simply been looking for a way to be rid of me for years."

Eression laughed then slid from his horse, ending the humorous exchange as he embraced his fellow Dúnadan.

"It is good to see you, my friend." Eression smiled at the other and was pleased to see that the man had not changed. He still wore his hair in the style favored by the elves, and his face bore an expression that gave nothing to passing acquaintances, but spoke volumes to a dear friend.

"As it is to see you; I feared the king would never send you our way. And there is more work to be done here than you may think! Here I had hoped that one day I would slay my last orc, and then we reached the Moorwaith pass only to find…" Malvegil trailed off as he caught Eression's suddenly serious expression. "What is the reason for this unexpected visit, Eression?"

The man smiled slightly, but there was no longer humor in it. "I'm afraid my business is of a grave nature, Malvegil, I—I must speak with Lord Elrond's sons at once."

"Of course," Malvegil nodded before taking the reins of Eression's horse and leading them both further into the forest. "Have you come all the way from Minas Tirith?"

"As fast as my beast's legs would carry me; I fear I may have run him dry. But even as I have come in a timely manner I'm afraid my news may reach them too late."

"Can you not speak to me of these tidings?" Malvegil looked concerned now and Eression recognized his expression: the man was trying to read the answer in his face.

"It concerns their sister, Queen Arwen." Eression sighed, the burden of what he would have to tell the twins weighing heavily upon him all at once. "She is ill and dying and the king requested her brothers' presence at once."

"By the Valar…" Malvegil breathed. "Can nothing be done?"

"I do not know, I was not told many details — only to make all haste to Rivendell and bring its lords back with me."

Malvegil nodded quickly and his pace quickened.

For a while they walked in silence, taking a path that led smoothly into the heart of Imladris. Eression followed a step behind his friend; he had not been to this place in a long time his feet did not remember the way.

The same thoughts seemed to be on Malvegil's mind as, after a moment, he spoke into the silence, "Eression, why have you not been to see me? Surely you have not been that busy upon the king's business."

"I am sorry, Malvegil." Eression feared where this conversation could go. "I only wished to…to stay away for a while…it has nothing to do with you."

"And everything to do with Elladan and Elrohir." Malvegil's blunt statement, accompanied by the sounds of those names spoken aloud, made Eression flinch in spite of himself.

Well, there was no use denying it now.

"Malvegil, you of above all know that the lives we live, though for a common goal, are best kept apart."

"You cannot think that they still resent you so deeply," Malvegil protested gently.

"Out of guilt I have kept my distance, out of respect I have obeyed their unspoken wishes." Eression's words were barely a whisper now and he let out a sigh before continuing. "I wronged them deeply, Malvegil — perhaps you can never understand how deeply. It is better that when they see me, I am no more than a… a ghost of the past, a part of a painful memory."

Malvegil watched his friend closely before responding. "Please do not do me the grief of saying that you avoid them because your pride does not want forgiveness."

Eression came to a full stop at this and shook his head shortly. "No, Malvegil, my pride could never be so again. I wish for their forgiveness above all things… but I would not deliver them distress by begging it and opening this wound once more. My chance to redeem myself in their eyes is long past…and I do not deserve it anyway."

Eression started walking again, quickly, and Malvegil took a moment to catch up to him.

"If only you would speak—"

"They do not wish me here, Malvegil. I am present at the king's bidding and I will accompany them to Minas Tirith once more to receive further orders."

Malvegil knew that tone well. Eression would speak no more on the subject; not another word.

It did not take them long to reach the doors of Rivendell itself and though Eression was glad that he would at last be able to deliver his message, he felt a sense of dread fill him that he could not fully suppress. This feeling only grew at the sight of the two elves walking down the steps, though their appearance did not seem one that would inspire distress. They were speaking to each other in laughing tones, obviously at some joke that had just passed between them.

Eression felt his stomach twinge unpleasantly, but fortunately regained himself enough to approach them calmly.

"My lords?" His words halted the conversation and the twins finally focused their attention on the two men.

"Eression!" Elrohir's voice was startled, but did not portray any undue emotion. "What are you doing in Imladris?" There was the uncertainty Eression had expected. Elladan did not speak at all, he simply stared.

Eression bowed to the two brothers and then made himself relate the news he was loathed to tell. "My lords, I fear I bring ill tidings from the king. Your sister, Queen Arwen, has been bitten by a poisonous viper that we believe was placed in the royal chambers for the purpose of killing her. There appears to be no antidote and she has fallen deathly ill. The king requests you come to her at once."

A long silence followed Eression's message, but both of the elves had gone very pale.

Again Elrohir spoke first. "Are the children well?"

"Yes, my lord," Eression replied quickly, happy to relate at least some good news. "The king thinks that the snake was meant to kill them all, but he slew it before it could do any more harm."

"Any more harm?" Elladan's voice was hard and his icy gaze barely concealed the deep grief he felt. "Wasn't my sister enough?"

Eression bowed his head slightly, uncertain how to handle the hurt he knew the two elves must be feeling.

"If Estel says we should come, then it must be indeed serious," Elrohir spoke up, his voice soft and almost impossible to make out. "We will leave at once."

Elladan nodded quickly and immediately set off at a run for the stables nearby. Elrohir followed behind, leaving the two rangers in the clearing.

Eression realized he was breathing hard as though he had just run the whole way from Minas Tirith. He was weary, but it was more than that.

"Are you alright?" Malvegil's voice was strained with concern and Eression wished that there was some easy way to put the man at ease.

"I am well, only…only weary."

"You shouldn't lie, Eression," Malvegil chided gently. "It's not one of your talents."

"Nay, it is not my inability to lie." Eression touched his forehead, suddenly feeling very tired indeed. "It is simply your ability to understand me too well; I am not an open book, but it doesn't seem to matter when you can read me right through the cover."

Malvegil did not respond. It was true, he had always been able to read the younger man's emotions: in every slight gesture or expression. And the turmoil that the encounter with the twins had stirred up in him was clear to see. Perhaps, Malvegil pondered, it had indeed been better for all of them that Eression had always stayed away.

Elladan and Elrohir reappeared at that moment, leading their horses out of the stables as they came.

Elladan glanced at Eression, his gaze still hard but more preoccupied with the news he had just received. "Come, Captain. You bring us ill news and make us wait on your time."

Eression's eyes closed briefly. Elladan had always called him 'captain', and the title never ceased to recall old, painful memories. Still, he moved towards the stables himself at the elf's words, his horse following after him.

He was stopped by Malvegil's hand on his arm. Eression turned, but the other ranger was not looking at him but at Elladan.

"For the sake of the Valar, Elladan, wait!" Malvegil's voice was stern and the rebuke in his tone was obvious. "Eression has ridden a thirty-day journey to bring you this message, he is weary from travel as you must well see, and he needs rest before you set out again."

Elladan did not respond, but turned his gaze away. It was hard to read whether it from guilt or resentment, but in either case he was not willing to argue with Malvegil.

Malvegil turned back to Eression, but the man was shaking his head. "No, it is alright Malvegil — I know they are anxious to be with the queen and I would not be the one to deny them haste."

"Eression," Malvegil laid both his hands on the other man's shoulders, "please do not do this from guilt—"

"The king ordered me to return with them and that is what I intend to do. I owe him my life. I would never deny him anything he requested or ordered."

Malvegil sighed. "You know that is a debt long ago forgotten, Eression."

"To him the debt is repaid," Eression replied softly. "To me it can never be. I will go." His voice rose then so that Elladan and Elrohir could overhear. "But allow me to take a new horse from the stables. Mine is worn and he needs rest."

Then Eression passed his friend and led the horse away. Malvegil watched him with a sigh and could barely keep the words 'so do you' away from his tongue.

Elrohir left to retrieve provisions for the journey. Following his initial words, the younger twin had become very silent and Malvegil could only imagine what the elf must be thinking.

The ranger watched Elladan, still standing by the horses, as he checked over the weapons in a steadily more agitated fashion. Malvegil moved up beside the elder twin and, taking the quiver from his hands and carefully adjusting the twisted strap, he spoke without lifting his eyes.

"One who carries the weight of hatred carries a heavy burden indeed." Elladan did not reply and when Malvegil looked up at him, the elf was looking away. "Elladan…" Malvegil waited until his friend was looking at him before placing the quiver back in his hands. "You have many burdens upon you now… what harm would be done by letting this one go?"

Elladan took the quiver and slung it over his shoulder, his eyes falling to the buckle he was fastening.

"You of all people know, Malvegil, that you cannot build hope and trust out of torment and death. And I will not be the fool to trust him when he is so undeserving."

"He fell far, Elladan, but he rose up — he atoned for his past. Why can you not trust him as I do…or the king?"

Elladan stopped and looked into Malvegil's eyes again. "If you or my brother wish to put your trust in this man, then so be it, but you did not see what he did, or what orders he was willing to follow, and I will not suffer myself or especially Elrohir such pain again."

Malvegil shook his head. "Harboring distrust can hurt you worse in the end."

"Perhaps." Elladan replied softly, slinging a pack across his horse's back. "But that is a chance I am far more willing to take."

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Malvegil was not the only one to see them off when the three travelers prepared to leave; several other Dúnedain had gathered in the time it had taken to collect provisions for the journey. As the others bade their farewells to the twins, Malvegil made his way over to Eression who was standing apart from the others, ready to mount up.

"I don't suppose I can talk you out of this?" Malvegil asked with a sad smile.

"I am afraid not." Eression shook his head, stroking the neck of the black horse he had taken from the stables. "But I appreciate your concern."

"It is strange how 'appreciating it' does not make me feel as though it did any good." Malvegil touched the horse's muzzle, glancing over his shoulder at the twins who were now mounted and waiting on Eression.

"I must go," Eression said unnecessarily.

"Be careful. I am no elf, but I feel the path you follow is full of dangers; tread it carefully."

Eression mounted his horse and turned it to face Malvegil who was again watching him carefully. He smiled, knowing he would never be able to express to Malvegil how much he treasured their friendship. He had never — and somehow could not — form such a bond with anyone else. Malvegil had always been the one who simply wouldn't allow him to live out his life in solitude, not even at the beginning when his black past still dogged his footsteps so closely, and few were willing to accept him. Malvegil's friendship meant so much to him — he could not leave his friend worrying for him.

"Do not be concerned, Malvelgil. I know the path I tread and I promise you I face it without fear. You will see me again in the days ahead, if not in this world as you see me now, then somewhere beyond. I feel certain."

Malvegil nodded and at last seemed satisfied with Eression's words.

"Besides," Eression continued, a mischievous expression that only Malvegil had ever seen, coming across his face. "I am not the one mortally afraid of dragonflies."

"Eression! You swore you would never—" Malvegil broke off as Eression's laugh filled the wood. "You really must go now, or I may be forced to beat that impish humor right out of you."

"In that case I shall not tarry." Eression smiled one last time at his friend before moving his horse into a run in order to catch up with the two riders who had just started into the forest.

"Farewell, my friend." Malvegil said softly as he stood alone, watching the figures disappear between the trees. "I pray we will meet again."

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May 12

Lothlorien

The old worn trees whispered gently in their last days. Only the elves and quiet creatures could make out a word, but even a mortal man could tell what they would say. 'Good night', or perhaps 'good-bye', and always a sad mourning song for the beings who had once loved them and lived between their boughs.

The elves had long ago left Lorien and since then nothing as fair had passed the once carefully guarded Nimrodel into the trees of the lush woods of mellryn trees.

*Splash*

Aragorn reached out a hand to steady himself as his feet touched the opposite bank. He felt the worn bark of an old mellorn meet his fingers and gripped the wood in order to maintain his balance.

They were finally here.

Against all detours, battles and obstacles they had at last reached the woods of Lorien. Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief as he looked into the darkening world that had once housed many wise and beautiful members of the elven race. It now lay silent but for the occasional hiss through the leaves as though they were whispering in tones he could not hear.

Aragorn felt Legolas at his elbow and spoke without turning.

"It fades in the absence of its lady."

"Aye, and well it should, for she and the her ring held it tied together, and Lord Celborn kept the foul beasts from tainting its ground." Legolas could not help the strange feelings that whispered in his thoughts. Lorien reminded him now of his own home, unprotected from the wicked stains of the world outside its borders which vied relentlessly to consume it. Still, there was a mystery and a protection Legolas could not quite place that seemed to hover around the trees. Perhaps left by Galadriel in an attempt to keep out the enemies as long as possible. Still, for the sake of their mission, it was a welcome sight regardless of the changes.

"I hope you know exactly where this tree is, my friend." Aragorn laughed slightly, suddenly breathless with relief. For the first time in weeks it seemed as though all would be well.

Tantur moved up beside Legolas and stared into the trees, obviously missing how the forest had changed and grown.

"Of course, Strider, I'd hardly forget it." Legolas smiled. "It's a bit hard to miss."

The three companions moved into the forest, the elf and ranger walking at a slightly faster pace while Tantur hung back a step or two.

It took them a short time to reach the heart of Lorien. Aragorn seemed to have wings on his feet and Legolas was no less eager to reach the tree at last.

"If we cut through by the glade we will reach it sooner." Legolas motioned the other two past an indent in the ground. Aragorn looked down and saw a sight that was both surreal and jarring…

In the center of the glade a stone basin sat, perched upon its pedestal. The sound of flowing water reached his ears and he marveled at the sight of Galadriel's mirror, left forgotten where it stood. A mirror to possible futures, and echoes of the past, images and echoes she no longer needed in the West.

Aragorn shook his head and followed after Legolas who was now full out running towards a clearing ahead.

The two friends pulled up sharply at the outskirts of the clearing, staring into the center.

"Well, you did not exaggerate, mellon-nin. It would be difficult indeed to miss this tree's presence," Aragorn spoke softly as he surveyed the tree for the first time. It was tall, but more than that, it was broad: stretching towards the sky, towards the trees around it, dipping in places towards the ground. The wind shook loose several gold-green leaves that scratched softly against the twisted trunk which rose like braided rope from the ground.

Legolas closed his eyes as the wind blew over him. The smell reminded him of home, of his father, of the Lord Celeborn even for the very few times he had met him. "It has been sleeping long," the elf whispered, opening his eyes and reaching inside his tunic. "We should rouse it."

Drawing a silver and glass vile from his pocket Legolas moved towards the tree, Aragorn just beside him.

A shout of warning split the air: "Behind you, lads!"