Chapter Seventeen

Legolas and Aragorn were on the other side of the camp from where they had attempted their last escape, so the two friends would once again have to work their way around the large clearing, giving it a wide birth, before making their way to the rough trail where they had left their horses.

Clouds had now moved in and covered the moon, shrouding the already dark forest in even deeper shadow. They were not, however, able to hide the faint lightening of the eastern sky. Dawn was not far off.

“It will rain before too long,” Legolas observed with little emotion. He actually loved the rain, but he couldn’t avoid a quick glance at Aragorn, who wasn’t overly fond of getting drenched.

“That’s all we need,” the man grumbled.

“Tell me, Estel, why did you choose the life of a ranger, if you dislike many of the elements that a ranger must face?”

Aragorn debated whether to give a glib answer or none at all, before finally saying, “It is the timing of the those elements that is often not to my liking.”

“Oh, you mean like the cold in winter or a thunderstorm in spring, similar to the one that will reach us in,” the elf looked up at the eastern sky, “say an hour?” He couldn’t have left the sarcasm out of his voice, if he tried.

Making an effort to show his friend that he could appreciate the many moods of Nature no matter how uncomfortable some of them could be, Aragorn grinned and said cheerfully, “Then again, it may be a blessing. You can bet those trolls will be after us again, once they realize we’re gone. Rain will hide our trail.”

Legolas noted the man‘s grin, as sarcastic as his own words had just been, but chose to ignore it. “I hope you are right,” he said seriously.

The archer wasn’t sure how good the trolls were at tracking, although the fact they couldn’t organize a decent search was probably a pretty good clue. They were far luckier than they were good.

“How are your eyes?” Legolas asked, as they quickly made their way through the trees. “It is very dark.”

The implication of the last statement wasn‘t lost on the ranger. “Yes, that I can see.” When the elf turned his head back and gave him a stern look over his shoulder, Aragorn sighed and said, “They’re still a little blurry but not too bad.” When Legolas made a disparaging noise, he said, “Really,” with as much genuine feeling as he could. Then he quickly added, “So how are your shoulder and your chest and your head and your back?”

“Fine,” Legolas lied without the slightest hesitation. The elven prince hated hearing his injuries listed one by one like that. Besides, now was not the time to let Aragorn know that his left shoulder was throbbing, his chest was sore, he was slightly dizzy, and he had a very bad headache. Legolas shuddered to think what Lord Elrond would do had he been able to show up in Rivendell in the condition he was now in.

Gritting his teeth, Legolas began moving at a faster pace. It was as much a case of trying to keep his very perceptive friend from questioning him further as it was for the need to make haste. He gave a quick prayer to the Valar that he wouldn’t stumble or worse, pass out.

Continuing to move as swiftly as they thought safe, the two companions finally reached the place where they had been captured after their previous failed escape attempt.

There was no sign of their horses.

*~*~*~*

Not long after Legolas and Aragorn headed into the trees, Scron made his way back toward Pickett’s hut. He had two choices as to what to do next. He could do as he had originally planned and wait until Pickett woke up and found the captives missing. Then he could alert the other trolls as to their new leader’s lax vigil. Of course, his would be the voice that would make a case for deposing the incompetent Pickett.

Now, however, Scron realized that Pickett might just find enough support to stay in power, despite the captives’ escape. After all, he had bullied the other trolls into accepting him as Hatch’s replacement. So, a crude but, to him, better plan was forming in his head, as he walked.

When he reached the front of Pickett’s hut, he looked around to make sure no one saw him. The camp was quiet, with no one else about, so Scron moved into the dark interior.

Raising his voice, Scron called out to the shadowed form that was lying on the large bed. “Pickett!”

There was a groan and a slight shift of the troll body but no other sign that Pickett was responding to his name.

Scron moved a little closer. “Pickett!” he called out louder. He was tempted to shake the other troll but was afraid he might be grabbed in surprise. That would put him at an immediate disadvantage, so he stayed just out of reach.

“Pickett, wake up. Them captives are gone.”

That last statement seemed to penetrate the sleepy leader’s groggy mind, though Pickett remained less than alert. “What?”

“Them captives are gone.” Scron’s voice was hardly the excited one that such an announcement would normally generate. He was almost grinning.

Pickett sat bolt upright and jerked his head around to face Scron. “Gone? How?”

“I don’t know, but I saw ’em in the woods runnin’ away, so I come to tell ya.”

Pickett swung his legs over the side of the bed and planted his huge feet firmly on the hard- packed dirt that served as the floor of the dwelling. A quick survey of the room showed that Scron was right. The captives were indeed gone.

Pickett stood up and at the same time, used his arm to shove Scron aside. Intending to head for the door, he took one step past the other troll.

The next instant Pickett felt something bulky around his neck. Before he could even register the pain that resulted from the violent twist of his head, he was dead.

Scron pulled his arm back and let Pickett’s body drop like an inert boulder. He stared at it for a moment in total satisfaction, and then he ran out into the camp, yelling.

It took a few moments before the camp of sleepy trolls roused themselves and stumbled out into the fresh air of the fading night.

“What’s goin’ on?” asked one of the trolls.

Scron was only too happy to inform all of them of his version of events. “Them captives. They killed Pickett, and then run off.”

“Killed Pickett?” another troll asked, confusion plain on his ugly face. The same look was soon on every other face in the crowd. Even Scron had adopted the look.

Tack scratched his head. “Wasn’t Monks watching ’em? I saw him sittin’ at Pickett’s door, blockin’ it.”

Scron had forgotten all about Monks guarding the door. He had to try and think faster than he ever had before in his life. And while the speed of that activity eluded him, he did realize that not even these trolls would believe two puny beings like the ones they had captured could kill two trolls and then drag one of them away.

Shrugging, Scron simply said, “I don’t know. He was gone when I saw the captives leavin’.”

That explanation would have to do. Lucky for him, the other trolls seemed to accept it, especially since none of them could figure out where Monks could have gone to or why.

The troll who had asked the first question asked another. “Now we gotta git us another leader?”

Before anyone could comment, Scron said, “I’m takin’ over.”

After making his intention clear, Scron eyed Tack, who had been the main one to challenge after Hatch died and would likely be the main one to do it again.

Tack wasn’t afraid of Scron, but still he hesitated. He eyed Scron’s balled up fists and taut muscles, gauging how successful a challenge would likely be. Unfortunately for him, he waited too long. Being tentative rarely worked out. Tack should have declared his intention to vie for leadership immediately and stepped forward to back it up. Now the chance was gone, and he knew it.

When Scron saw Tack’s shoulders slump and no one else spoke up, he knew he had won and had become the new troll leader. Now he had to do something to solidify his position even more, and Scron knew exactly what he was going to do.

*~*~*~*

It was not really too surprising for Legolas and Aragorn to see that their horses were not where they had left them. The two stallions had been sent to a safer distance and self-preservation would keep them out of danger.

Aragorn was tempted to whistle for the horses. However, he feared that the sound could be picked up by a nearby troll, even though he didn’t really think their absence would have been discovered so soon. Still, it wasn’t worth the risk. There was always the chance that individual trolls patrolled the forest around their camp. It was much safer to just do a little searching for the horses.

The ranger was about to ask Legolas if he could detect any sound the horses might be making, when he turned and saw the elf doing just that. He couldn’t help grinning, as he observed Legolas with his head tilted and his eyes closed. The warrior prince was so used to using his heightened senses when they traveled that Aragorn realized he should have known the elf would be thinking ahead.

“Do you hear them?” the man asked after a couple of moments of holding his breath, as if afraid to add any sound that might hinder the elf.

Legolas sighed. “No,” he answered with a hint of frustration in his voice. “We trained them too well.” The elf laughed. “Actually, I think they probably felt the trolls were too near and moved farther off.”

“So which direction do you think is the best one we take to look for them?”

It was still too dark and the ground too hard packed to find a decent track until daylight had made a stronger appearance. The rain was not far from also making an appearance.

“My guess is they continued on in the same direction we were headed when Pickett found us.” Legolas subconsciously reached up and rubbed his chest at the memory of just how that discovery had happened.

“That sounds logical,” the man agreed.

“There is a river ahead of us,” Legolas informed his friend. He had just picked up the faint roar of the water. “Perhaps the horses needed a drink. I doubt the trolls took much care of them.”

Just then, there was the unmistakable sound of shouting behind them, the bad thing being it wasn‘t concentrated in just one place.

The two friends looked at each other, a mixture of “Not again” and “We should have known” on both of their faces.

“How did they discover us missing and get here so soon?” Aragorn asked, knowing Legolas didn’t have the answer but so upset he couldn’t avoid expressing his frustration.

“I have no idea,” the elf replied, equally frustrated. “Someone must have risen early.” There was no humor in the statement.

“Or perhaps Scron changed his mind and alerted Pickett, maybe trying to get on his good side.”

Without another word or signal between them, they both began to run. If they could find their horses and cross the river before the trolls caught up to them, they believed they could finally make their escape from the horrid creatures.

As they moved through the trees, the noise they were now both clearly hearing grew louder. It became more obvious, as they neared it, that this was not going to be an ordinary river. Both Legolas and Aragorn knew that roaring sound all too well, and their hearts grew fearful.

Finally, breaking through the trees, their fears were confirmed, when the sight that greeted the two friends caused their hearts to sink.

What they found themselves facing were white water rapids, as wild as any they had ever come across. The vibration moved up through the ground and jarred their insides.

The water roiled and churned over and around boulders of varying sizes. The two friends knew immediately that there was no way they could fight such a current.

The larger rocks that rose up from the riverbed sent the water crashing around them, forcing it to squeeze through narrow gaps that increased the power of the flow.

The smaller rocks didn’t offer anything more promising. The water rolled over them, forming small but powerful waterfalls that were sometimes forced back in on themselves. This action created v-shaped depressions slammed from both sides that trapped small pieces of debris at the bases of the rocks with no way to escape.

The larger pieces of debris were jerked free of these waterfalls by the violent current. Most were swept, bobbing and dipping, downstream out of sight. Still others were caught and spun in endless circles in whirlpools.

Getting caught in any of these current-created traps could easily be fatal. Despite its lethal nature, the wild river was beautiful and held a fascination all its own.

The whole scene was mesmerizing, but time was of the essence, so elf and ranger had little time to indulge in admiration. They needed to find their horses and a place to cross, neither of which seemed within their grasp.

Legolas’s elven eyes searched downstream while Aragorn’s vision followed the riverbank upstream. There was a small sandy bank strewn with rocks in both directions. But there were no horses to be seen.

The roar of the river drowned out any other noise, so even Legolas’s keen hearing could not pick up the sound of approaching trolls crashing through the trees.

“We have to decide which way to go,” Legolas advised. “I cannot hear the trolls over the river, but I feel that they are getting closer.”

Aragorn nodded. “I know we must hurry, but I don’t want to end up heading away from the horses. We not only need them, but I do not want to leave them here with those foul creatures.”

Legolas had no intention of doing so, either.

“Give me a moment to check the tracks in the sand,” Aragorn said. “I may be able to find which way they went.”

“Hurry,” was all Legolas said before turning and moving back into the forest. He stopped and looked back toward the river, making sure he didn’t lose sight of Aragorn. He knew the man could not see him among the trees, and he didn’t want to them to become separated with the enemy on the way.

Aragorn quickly made his way to the edge of the river and began searching around for hoof prints. He saw none. The ranger stretched his search pattern farther and farther in both directions but still found nothing that indicated any animals larger than forest deer had been here in days.

Standing up and again staring upriver and then down. ‘If the horses didn’t come to the river, where could they have gone off to?’ The ranger shook his head.

Aragorn heard a noise behind him and spun around, fully expecting to see a huge troll lunging for him. He recoiled and reached for his sword.

TBC