Hello again!  Thanks to all who reviewed my last chapter, and much thanks to those of you who took the time to review my little sister’s as well.  She was so excited, and is currently working on the second chapter!

Thank you to my beta, who’s laptop is broken.  I feel your pain, Daisy! 

P.S.  I post this story on storiesofarda.com as well, and it has a hit counter, so I know that about 25 other people are following along with this story, but I've only had two people review!  Is it because I have alientated you by not mentioing StoriesofArda?  If it is, I apologize profusely and beg you to tell me if my stories is decent or if it sucks and you're just reading because you have nothing better to do!  Thanks!

Enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen-- Light and Dark

“Are you scared Lyana?”  Imlyana was holding her sister as they leaned against each other by the fire.  Olihre had left them only moments ago and already they felt his absence like a great empty void.

“Shhh…” Imlyana soothed, running her fingers comfortingly through the younger girl’s hair.  “I’m sure everything will be fine…”

“But are you scared?”  Imlara asked again, sitting up swiftly and harshly breaking the contact between them.  Her eyes were stern and demanding, not pleading and frightened as they had been the entire day. 

Imlyana looked down at her dark hands, playing with the hem of her sleeve before finally answering in a soft, reluctant voice.  “Yes.” 

“For whom?”  Still Imlara was brisk, almost cold-- no more childish emotions did she have to spare.  When her sister hesitated, she pushed further, “For us?”

“Not so much for us, Lara, we could ride off now if we wanted, but…”  She trailed off.  Her inner voice struggled with itself for the thousandth time since she had met this strange group of heroes.  Her usual coquettishly apathetic exterior, which had served her well all her life, no longer seemed adequate.  The elf and the dwarf could see right through it, which while mildly unsettling, was also strangely exciting.  The only person who couldn’t seem to see past her feigned bravado was the one person whom she most hoped would. 

“Olihre?” Imlara asked, though her voice held no intonations of doubt.  “You worry for him?”

Imlyana nodded, looking deeply into her sister’s concerned eyes.  She was taken aback by the untainted wisdom she found there.  Though she knew that she should be strong and silent, a pillar for her younger sister, something in those eyes beckoned her to release her fears.  “He doesn’t know what’s out there!” she cried in a trembling voice.  “I’ve seen him spar with Legolas using his sword, and he’s very good, but how can he defend himself against the unknown?”

“He can’t.” Imlara said simply.

Imlyana snapped her head up from where she was again fidgeting with her sleeve.  “What?”

Imlara sighed softly and took her sister’s hand.  “Lyana, you’ve got to help him.”

“Are you mad?”

Imlara’s expression grew cold again.  “We must admit to ourselves what needs to be done here!  All three of us quiver with ill tidings, how can we ignore that?  Foolishly, I tell you!”

Imlyana didn’t recognize the girl before her.  “Lara, what are you saying?”

“I’ve got to ride back and find the others; you must follow Olihre, and don’t let him see you, he’ll only argue and be distracted.”  Imlyana was shaking her head but Imlara continued.  “Someone’s has to be there for him.  Someone has to see what happens, whether it’s good or bad.  I’m not saying you have to expose yourself, in fact you mustn’t, but when I come back with the others, someone needs to know what happened, and if Olihre isn’t there, who will be?”

Imlyana nodded slowly, not even entertaining the idea that Olihre may not be there when the others returned.  In a sincere voice she asked, “Are you the same girl who has been shrieking and shivering all day?”

Imlara blushed and ducked her head.  “Some things must be done, whether we like it or not.”

Imlyana nodded, understanding well the truth of her sister’s words.  Despite the seriousness of their current situation, Imlyana couldn’t help but voice a suspicion that had only just occurred to her.  “This wouldn’t have anything to do with you impressing a certain elf, would it?”

Imlara stood and scowled at her sister, but her blush indicated that Imlyana had hit upon something.  Before she could bite back however, Imlyana smiled rather impishly and said, “Whatever it is, it is much needed.  I’m of no use to anyone lately.”

“You are now-- just follow him and be silent!”  Imlara hugged her sister quickly and made towards the fire, intent upon putting it out and gathering up their meager provisions before she left.  “Lyana,” she said as her sister paused outside the front door, “I’m going to leave your horses in back of the butchering shop; this place is much too obvious now.”

Imlyana nodded and smiled at her sister.  “Be safe,” she whispered.

“I will,” Imlara replied, and then added, “Don’t let yourself be seen-- not by the strangers or Olihre!”      

*          *          *

Olihre stole soundlessly through the thick shadows of the imposing buildings, avoiding the open street where the moonlight now shone down with harsh intensity.  Of course the clouds would clear now that I need the darkness, Olihre thought to himself bitterly.

His wary eyes remained unwaveringly trained upon the faint effulgence of the distant campfire as he made his way towards it at an excruciatingly slow pace.  Nothing could be heard of the mysterious strangers, only the wind and his own promiscuous breathing broke the spectral silence of the surrounding town.

Several minutes had passed since he had left the two girls in their makeshift camp, and Olihre had been able to think of aught else.  Neither his uncertain journey nor the myriad of possible endings that this night could bring to him could persuade him to break his almost frantic concentration on their cause.  Their well-being was foremost in his mind, so much so that he felt little hesitation as his steps drew him closer to the unknown.    

Is that so?  A voice in his mind demanded, its tone sneering and abrupt.  Olihre missed a step in his brisk march and faltered momentarily, waiting for the voice to explain itself.  It happily obliged.  If their well-being truly is foremost in your mind, why then are you here, and they are left alone in uncertainty?

“So that is your game,” hissed Olihre almost inaudibly, speaking to himself as much as to the voice, as he knew them to be one and the same.  “What I am doing is necessary…” he whispered again with uncertainty.  He immediately knew that it was a lie.  An unconscious lie, but a lie nonetheless.  “I wanted to prove myself,” he reasoned before shaking his head as his footsteps faltered once again.  “No,” he corrected in a louder and more resigned voice, “I WANT to prove myself.  Even now, I do not regret my decision.”

A sickening feeling of shame spread throughout his body, starting in his stomach and moving up his neck and into his mouth, where it tasted so bitter that he was barely able to resist purging it with violent force. 

Fool, his competent half thought to itself, you could have simply gotten on your horses and ridden back to meet the others.  You could have warned them of the strangers and taken the women out of harms way at the same time.  But you had to prove yourself, didn’t you? 

Olihre moaned aloud, trying desperately to keep his footsteps even and in line with his destination.  In a loud whisper he exclaimed to the night sky, “I cannot even think straight!  It’s her doing; she’s the reason I am here!”

Olihre brought his hands up to tangle in his jaw-length hair.  As he pushed the hair away from his ears he suddenly froze.  Spinning on his heel he peered around suspiciously, one hand reaching for the hilt of his sword while the other was held in front of him as if to block a blow.  He stepped lightly, retracing his path a few feet before stopping.

“Who is it?” he asked in a low voice.  He received no reply, but did not yet lower his sword.  He was sure he had heard footsteps behind him a moment ago. 

But the strangers are ahead of me, Olihre thought in confusion.  Have they crept around the buildings to sneak up on me from behind?  At this thought Olihre shook his head.  They couldn’t have seen or heard me coming-- unless they saw the smoke!  Olihre craned his neck upwards in alarm, looking past many rooftops for any signs of smoke or light that would give away the girl’s presence.  There was no sign that a fire existed.

After standing a few more moments in silence, Olihre forced himself to believe that he hadn’t heard anything.  He couldn’t afford to be distracted at the moment, as he was drawing very near to the fire, and therefore its occupants.  Re-sheathing his sword, he continued creeping along the shadows of the buildings, looking back over his shoulder every now and then with a frown.

*          *          *

Aye!  Imlyana slapped the heel of her hand to her forehead as she lay in a sludge of rotten wood and mud.  She had tripped upon a fallen tree branch as she tailed Olihre, and had fallen forward, issuing thundering footfalls as she stumbled.  She was already down on her knees by that time, and just as she saw Olihre freeze and start to turn, she had rolled to her side and been sheltered by a dilapidated porch.  She held her breath for several moments as she heard him retracing his footsteps.  When he spoke, his voice low and anxious, she had yearned to reveal herself, not wanting to be a source of distraction or fear.  But she had her orders, and she knew they were sound.

Hearing Olihre moving along again, she crept quietly from her hiding place.  She allowed more space between herself and her defender this time, staying barely in sight of him, but always behind a building.  She could not afford to fail again.

*          *          *

Olihre could hear voices.  One was high pitched and whimpering, the other was low and smooth.  He couldn’t yet make out what was being said, but he could tell that an argument was being held.  Creeping a bit further, he finally stopped behind the only remaining wall of a small square structure that stood roughly twenty-five feet from the men’s fire.  It looked as if a herd of Oliphant’s had trampled it, and its inside had most definitely been gutted by fire.  All the same, the one remaining wall that separated him from the men offered a decent place to stop and listen.

A fire had been built underneath the overhang of what looked to be an old stable.  The plaster on the walls had long since fallen down, but the thatched roof still remained intact in most places, allowing the fire to burn despite the solemn drizzle all around.  The large double doors were missing, leaving almost the entire front of the building exposed to the outside.   

Olihre surveyed the scene, his dark hair and eyes left unprotected by the solid wall.  The light of the fire did not reach him, however, and he was left in a blessed darkness.  Two men sat casually on opposite sides of the fire, both leaning towards it with their hands outspread.  “My fingers are never going to thaw!” The smaller man with the whimpering voice complained, his soiled hands cramped and twisted. 

The other man, larger, with blond hair, inspected his own fingers, noting with a satisfied grin that they were clean.  He said nothing in response to the other, scraggly looking man, which only seemed to make him whinier.

“Are you sure we can’t wait a few more days for the weather to clear?  If I had known it was gonna rain, I’d of….”

“Quiet!  I will hear no more of your lamenting!”  The blond man stood up and began pacing in front of the fire, blocking Olihre’s view of the darker man in intervals.  “Our benefactor wants this done as soon as possible!  The King is growing more accustomed to his role every day, he says, and we have no time to spare before he begins sending his scouts this way!” 

The other man grumbled loudly and hunched forward, lowering his head in passive rebellion.  The blond man looked incensed for a moment, but reclaimed control as he shook his head with pity.  “It is a shame you are so dimwitted, Ghrevn.  There is enormous profit to be made from this venture, and yet all you can do is complain about the weather.  Not much of an opportunist, are you?”

The scraggly man looked up, his eyes narrowed.  In a much less whiney voice, he muttered darkly, “But that’s not my place in this world, is it?  You said it yourself!”

The blond man smiled.  “Quite right.”

*          *          *

Olihre’s brow was furrowed.  “No time to spare?” he muttered under his breath.  “For what?” Feeling that he had heard enough to effectively argue that these men were up to no good, Olihre resolved to return to the infirmary and prepare the girl’s to leave right away.  Turning quietly, he began stepping over the burnt timbers that littered the floor of the destroyed building.  Just as he was about to step from the crumbling foundation onto the dirt road again, he heard a rustling in the bushes to the right of him.  Is there a third stranger, he wondered in alarm as he simultaneously stepped back, kicking a pile of rusted metal bindings as he went.

From behind several large shrubs, which had once bordered the now non-existent front wall of the building, appeared a wide-eyed Imlyana, both hands held in front of her mouth as if she were restraining a scream.  Olihre’s eyes also widened, both from the effects of seeing her where he least expected to, and in fear, knowing that he had just caused a mighty ruckus.  He wanted to question her right away, but he knew that the men would have heard them, so he quickly took hold of her wrist and ran with her through the street, trying to keep to the shadows, but knowing that speed would be their greater ally.  

“I’m so sorry!” Imlyana gasped as they ran.  Olihre shot her an angered look and then continued peering past her, watching as the two men darted into view from behind the wall.  He quickly turned away from the road, pulling her fiercely along with him.  His original plan had been to make haste towards the infirmary and get to their horses, however he had quickly decided against it, reasoning that Imlara was still their and unaware of the threat.  The buildings that he now pulled Imlyana behind had been built along the road with nothing but dense forest backing them.  Branches and brambles whipped past their faces as they ran, stinging them in a relentless attack, but still they continued.  Olihre soon turned away from the buildings and led Imlyana deeper into the forest, noting with chagrin that the damp ground was preserving their footsteps perfectly, even in the darkness. 

“Where are we going?” Imlyana panted as they ran, only to be silenced by Olihre with a ‘shhh.’  She looked back at her feet, being careful not to trip on anything and cause even more trouble.  Moments passed as they ran even further into the dark wood.  Finally, in a very quiet voice she pleaded, “I was only trying to help, I swear it!  Please don’t be angry!”

Olihre continued looking straight ahead as he dragged Imlyana behind him mercilessly.  “You should have stayed with Imlara,” he hissed, “she needed you.”

“She’s the one who told me to come!” Imlyana insisted in a desperate voice.  Olihre turned his dubious gaze to her briefly but said nothing.  Imlyana added, “She’s ridden ahead to get the others, but she didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“She’s gone?” Olihre exclaimed, stopping abruptly and pulling Imlyana close to him with a finger on his lips to indicate silence.  After a moment he whispered, “Do you hear anything?” 

They had run quite a ways from the campfire, but Olihre knew that they had made a severe racket in the process, and would have been easy to trace.  Distractingly close to Olihre’s ear, Imlyana whispered, “Perhaps they don’t intend to follow us.  Did you hear them say anything indicating their intentions?”

Olihre tensed and turned his head so that Imlyana’s mouth was no longer hovering right below is ear, but rather right in front of his own mouth.  She stood on her toes and clutched at his arm for balance as she leaned into him, only inches away.  “I’m not sure of anyone’s intentions at the moment.” Olihre breathed, though his voice held unspoken scorn.

Imlyana released the breath she had been holding and lowered herself back down onto the heels of her feet, her face pinched in an expression of hurt.  “What did you hear them say?” she mumbled to the ground, releasing her hold on his arms.

Olihre unconsciously took a step forward as she took a step back.  “Nothing that makes sense, but they ARE aware that they aren’t supposed to be here.  We must get back to the horses.”

“Imlara’s left them by the butcher’s shop.  It’s on this side of the road, but still a ways ahead if we travel through this brush…”

“Ahh, but why would you do that when you can so easily travel on the road?”

Both Olihre and Imlyana spun around sharply, searching in the darkness for the source of the statement.  Olihre finally saw the blond hair of the larger man he had seen earlier peering out from behind a large tree.  The man stepped forward, a large knife held casually in his hand as he smiled at them tauntingly.  Upon seeing the knife, Olihre drew his sword, pushing Imlyana behind him.     

“Hah!  Isn’t this just quaint and predictable?” The blond man continued his progression, the knife now held tighter in his hand as his other hand reached for the hilt of his sword.

Olihre stepped forward, keeping vigilant eye contact with the man as he advanced.  “What do you want?”

“What do I want?” The blond man replied with feigned curiosity.  “To be left alone, perhaps?  We’ve done nothing to warrant you nosing about, have we?”

“Have you?” Olihre repeated in a cynical tone. 

“That’s our business, not yours.  If you hadn’t run off so quickly, we wouldn’t be so suspicious now, but the fact that you did says you were up to something.  Come to rob us, have you?    

Olihre snorted in disgust.  “If you weren’t doing anything wrong, why did you chase us?  Why do you have your knife drawn now?”

“Foolish boy!  Just because you were runnin’ around with a skirt,” he glanced haughtily at Imlyana, “doesn’t mean you weren’t up to no good!”

Olihre suddenly realized something, “Where’s your companion?  The dark one?”

The blond man smiled slowly, his eyes never leaving Olihre’s.  “I don’t trust him with my hammer, let alone my life!  He’s too noisy, he is.”  Olihre furrowed his brow as the man’s eyes traveled past him suggestively.

From behind Olihre came a sudden yelp.  “No!”  Then a muffled scream as Olihre whirled around and saw the object of his inquiry.  He had his knife to Imlyana’s throat, his hand clapped over her mouth.  Olihre felt something hard hit his back with splintering force, knocking him forwards into the pair as he lost his footing and fell.  The next thing he knew he was being pulled up roughly, his hands held behind his back, his sword kicked out of his reach. 

“What do you want with us?” Olihre demanded, his neck craning to get a look at Imlyana from behind him.  She was struggling against her captor, kicking her feet up into the air as she forced her whole weight against him.

Olihre began to fight too, but soon enough he heard a cold voice laughing.  “She can fight all she wants, but you do, and I’ll slit her throat.”  At the look of unbelief from Olihre, he continued, “I won’t hesitate to do it.  Just because she wears a dress doesn’t make her a lady.  She’s an animal just like the rest of the darkies who live around here, stealing the land from its true inheritors.”

Olihre hissed furiously but did not move as the man advanced on him with his sword drawn.  It was needless, however, he would not fight as long as Imlyana was held at risk.  “Let her go, she isn’t a threat to you.”

“Are you pleading with me now?  Or do you think that you hold some sort of authority?  I think not.”  He pushed Olihre forward, back towards the street that was some yards off through the brush.  Olihre could hear Imlyana being pushed roughly behind him.

*          *          *

Legolas peered through the darkness, his heart stilling as he caught a racing figure ahead.  “It is Imlara!” he said in a breathless voice, kicking his already cantering horse into a full-gallop.

“Lara?” Hyelif asked, his eyes unable to make out her form just yet.  “And the other’s right?”

Legolas did not answer, he was unsure what to tell the boy.  Gimli rumbled behind him.  “It’s all right, Lad-- Olihre and your sister have probably been fighting like dwarves and elves-- I’ll bet she’s just trying to escape their squabblin’.”  

Hyelif did not look much consoled, but he nodded his head and fell silent, still peering ahead anxiously.  After another moment, he too could see Imlara, and he struggled against the urge to launch himself from his horse and run to meet her. 

Legolas was amazed that she’d even found them.  He wouldn’t have expected her to have the foresight not to continue back the way she had come, but rather to have followed an almost indistinctive trail leading to the left of the main trail out of the town.  Legolas nodded in appreciation as Imlara came within shouting distance. 

“Legolas!” she called frantically.

“Ai!  What has happened?”

“I’m not sure!” she yelled as their horses came closer and closer.  “We saw a campfire a ways off by the hills, and Olihre went to look, and then I sent Imlyana to follow him because he wasn’t sure of himself…”  Imlara trailed off, realizing that the story didn’t seem as desperate now as it had when they were still in the town.  She continued anyway, “Something felt wrong.  I…I wanted to come get you in case there is trouble.”

Legolas nodded calmly.  “Let us go then.  I am sure they are fine, but it was wise of you to come.  And brave as well.”

Imlara blushed in the darkness and turned her horse, falling in beside her brother as he looked at her with trepidation.  “They’ll be fine,” she said to him in a hushed voice.  “Don’t worry.”