Chapter 11 - Shining eyes

The bow passed fluently from Frodo to Legolas' outstretched hand. The Elf lay on his stomach, his tired eyes watching the scene that played out before them. He knew he could not have helped his friends in battle, in fact he could have proved a distraction if he had forced himself to fight. But neither would he let the conflict turn against the Fellowship. He would soon heal, but not fast enough.

When the Goblin had grabbed Pippin, its back to them, Frodo had been quick to take in the situation and realise the three were the only ones who could save them now. He recovered the Elf's bow from where it had been placed upon escaping the caves and passed it across to Legolas.

Legolas could not bear to think he was destroying the Hobbits' faith in him so he struggled to raise himself onto his elbows, tilting his weapon sideways as if it were a crossbow. Keeping as flat as he could to the ground, for if one of the goblins saw them, their one chance at escape would be lost, he slowly drew back the bow string.

He felt the wound in his shoulder, freshly treated by Aragorn, begin to tear with the pressure. He clenched his teeth against the pain, squinting to perfect his aim. Heavily clad in armour, the only parts of the Goblin that seemed unprotected were its face and a small gap between its breast plate and shoulder guards. As its face was turned from them, Legolas realised his only choice was to place the arrow between the armoured plating. His eyes blurred with pain and exhaustion, only one shot, one chance.

The arrow sped through the air, silent and deadly. Legolas grimaced with pain as the pressure was released and he let his bow fall to the grass. He only just saw the Goblin's body jerk as the arrow struck its mark before the darkness took him.

It was over. Aragorn wiped the last of the Goblin blood from his sword upon the grass.

The surprise that had possessed him the moment the Goblin leader had fallen was short lived and his long practiced reflexes served him well. Shoving his elbow into the chest of the paralysed Goblin behind him, he flicked his foot upwards and Andúril landed neatly in his outstretched palm. His strong fingers closed around the familiar hilt and before the Goblin behind him had time to duck its ugly head, it did not have one to duck. Faramir had managed to take down his goblin with a quick stroke to its heart and in the time it took, three goblins were felled by Gimli's vengeful axe.

The small remnants of the goblin party, the cowards, had retreated back into the safety of their underground home. Aragorn let his eyes rest for a moment, catching his breath, before he rose resolutely to his feet.

His eyes rested on each of his brave companions, how much they had already suffered for a burden none should have to have had to bear. Gimli crouched on the ground, leaning upon his axe and holding one gloved hand over the gash in his thigh. Aragorn's eyes quickly turned towards Pippin. Faramir had lost no time in reaching the young Hobbit and was bending over his chest, searching for breath. Merry watched in silent dread, his red eyes fixed to the still body of his cousin.

Aragorn came up beside him and knelt down so as to bring himself down to the Hobbit's height. His grey eyes searched Merry's though he could not think of what to say. For a moment he was utterly confounded, unable to bring to words his own feelings that Pippin's safety had been his own responsibility. He wanted to make sure Merry did not blame himself for what had occurred.

"He breaths!" Frodo's voice broke the uncomfortable silence with a beam of sunlight that warmed each of their hearts.

"His pulse is weak, but Master Peregrin will be quite alright." Faramir turned and gave Aragorn and Merry one of his occasional smiles. "We have come through!"

Aragorn had to smile as his eyes travelled across the bloody battlefield, Gimli's leg, the unconscious Elf and the bruises that already marred Pippin's throat. He shook his head in disbelief and bent down to lift Frodo to his feet.

"Where is Sam?" Frodo asked, his brow creasing in confusion.

"Never you mind about me!" Sam's cheerful voice called as he emerged from behind the rocks, leading a disgruntled Bill from where he had been tied. "You didn't think I'd forget ol' Bill did you. I can see none of you have given him a thought. Poor old Bill, an' after you being so brave in the tunnels." He stroked the pony's nose affectionately and Bill snuffled in contentment.

The dark clouds that had blackened the sky all evening had finally cleared and at last the stars shone brightly above. Aragorn was glad, perhaps it would do Legolas some good to see them again after being in the dark so long. Over and over he cursed himself for not realising the implications of the dark. If he had not been so preoccupied about taking Gandalf's place as a guide, he might have noticed the feelings and trepidation of his friends.

As he lay on his back, his head resting on his hands, a small movement beside him caught his eye and he turned his head slightly. To Aragorn's great relief, he saw Legolas' eyes had reclaimed their brightness, no longer dimmed by the oppressive dark. A slight smile rested on the Elf's lips as he gazed at the stars, marvelling at their beauty.

The white bandage on his shoulder stood out in the moonlight and Aragorn knew the wound would soon heal. He would feel uncomfortable until it did for the archer was invaluable protection for the company. As had been proved that day.

"Aragorn?" Legolas somehow seemed to know he was awake. "You should be resting, your watch is not for many hours. Trust in the Hobbits, they will not let anything run amiss."

"I do trust them," Aragorn replied, "it is not that, It's just I keep thinking what would have happened if Faramir had not taken you all from the cave, if you had not killed the Goblin. Pippin would have died. The quest would have failed!"

"Nay," Legolas said, "you must have more faith in yourself. There would have been another way. You have led us well, it is not easy to be responsible for the souls of so many."

"Alas for Gandalf! If he had been here . . How things would have been different. It was my resolve, Legolas, to climb Caradhras. Gandalf wished for another road. Darker than the caves we have just escaped... Moria."

Legolas did not speak for some moments and Aragorn turned his head, thinking that the Elf had fallen back to sleep. He had not. Something more consuming than sleep possessed his friend, not showing on the pale face but in the depths of his eyes.

At first Faramir thought the same dream had returned. Night after night had it haunted him before and during his journey to Imladris, and even on arrival it did not leave completely. So familiar was the vision before him that his body began to shake in dread anticipation.

Rumbling thunder shook the earth under his bare feet and the sky above was a waste land filled with light and dark. His eyes stared fearfully to the east, awaiting the terrible darkness that he knew would come. He turned then to the west, praying the light would conquer the dark. He was not conscious of the fact he stood alone, a single figure on the barren landscape stretching in both directions. But something was not right, the light in the west had not come, darkness held the world under its blanket as Faramir stretched out his hands in blind desperation towards the west.

A blinding flash struck pain into his mind and through the agony, his only thought was that the light had triumphed. Upon opening his eyes, he saw it was not so.

No longer was he standing on the bare plains, instead he stood upon Henneth Annûn. A deep sigh escaped Faramir's lips as he looked again upon the fairest of all the falls of Ithilien. Here his heart dwelt ever, the Window of the Sunset. Forgetting everything he gazed through the thin curtain of rainbow water, ever changing in the rays of the setting sun. Perhaps, he thought, it had all been a dream. Never had he abandoned his duty as Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien, never had he felt the need to journey leagues upon leagues facing events he had pushed from his mind, before reaching Imladris. All had been a fancy of his own, believing that he could be the hero his father would never believe him to be. He reached out a gentle hand and felt the cool waterfall onto his palm. But, the water was not cool and clear . . . It was warm, warm and the colour of blood.

With a cry of dismay he withdrew his blood soaked hand and turned away from the terrible sight before him. In turning from the bloody falls, his frightened eyes falling on something far, far worse. Boromir, his brother, lay before him, his body torn and broken. Faramir stumbled backwards in complete fear and horror. What was happening! He felt the blood drip from his hands and knew it was his brother's.

"Boromir! How come you here, brother? What has happened?" Faramir had never felt anything like it, panic and confusion and terror flooded through his entire body.

The terrible shade of Boromir raised his tortured eyes to meet Faramir's and their meaning was all too clear.

"No! Boromir, I didn't do it! I . . ." he looked down at his hand and saw he clutched a sword, dark with blood. "No!"

"No!"

The terrible scream split the air and Faramir jerked upright, tears in his eyes and his fists clenched so tight they were numb. But it was not him who had screamed. He clambered out from beneath his blanket with difficulty, the material sticking to the cold sweat of his body. The realisation that it had been a vision only slightly relieved his tension for if it had been a prophecy, what did it tell for the future?

He found Aragorn, Gimli and the Hobbits gathered around something on the ground. Legolas stood back slightly, holding his shoulder and hardly acknowledging Faramir when he came up by his side. Faramir tried to see what was going on and peered over Gimli's shoulder for a better view. Frodo sat stifly upright, one hand gripping Sam and the other reaching out for Aragorn. His face was deathly pale and Faramir wondered what he could have seen while on watch to create this kind of terror.

"Strider,"

Faramir could only just hear Frodo's urgent whisper and lent forwards, brushing shoulders with the Elf who was also anxious to hear.

"He was here, Strider . . Here in the camp," Frodo's eyes never focused on those of his friends, instead they were searching the low bushes and rocks that lay around the camp. "Shining eyes in the dark, like two great moons, he was following us . . . he spoke to me." Frodo had to force the words out.

"Who? Who was it Frodo? You must tell us," Aragorn's gently persuasive voice helped Frodo to focus back on his friends.

"Gollum."

Faramir's breath caught sharply in his throat and he felt an involuntary shudder pass through the Elf's body next to him. He could not believe it! Surely the creature could not have followed them here. All the way from Mirkwood! How could it have known where they were?

"Are you sure you were not mistaken, little one?" Gimli's gruff voice asked and was met by a pair of scared, yet firm, eyes.

"I speak truly. He knows where we are, where we are going, and he will not stop until he has it!"