Chapter Twenty Two

Legolas and Aragorn froze at the sound of those chilling words from a creature they both knew much better than they wanted to. For a few seconds, it seemed that the whole world had frozen with them, especially since the rain chose that exact moment to stop falling.

Neither friend had to say a word. They could both ‘read’ the silence and know that they were each experiencing total disbelief. After all they had been through from the moment they had made the fateful decision to enter troll country, they had now been caught once more.

It took Scron putting a huge hand on each of their shoulders, in a move he thought would convey his complete triumph, to spur the elf and the ranger to action.

“Not again,” Aragorn ground out between clenched teeth, as he twisted under the palm of the troll, breaking free before the grip could tighten. At the same time, he reached inside his tunic and gripped the handle of Legolas’s long knife.

Legolas’s rage had boiled up instantly, and though he hadn’t uttered a sound, the same words Aragorn had spoken rang in his mind. It was not going to happen again, not while he still drew breath.

The elf’s hand slipped inside of his own tunic and came out with his other long knife clutched in his fist. While this was happening, his muscles were tightening into a coil, ready to spring. The elf’s composure snapped, as he instantly exploded into action.

Aragorn had raised the knife he held and was preparing to drive it into the creature, when Legolas suddenly spun on the ball of his right foot, swinging the knife around with him. The blade rose until it was just below the bottom edge of Scron’s ribcage, then it moved forward with incredible speed.

Once the knife had broken through the troll’s skin, it had taken all of the strength the elven prince could muster in his one good arm to push the knife through the thick muscle covering the troll’s stomach.

The maneuver had been aided not only by the force of Legolas’s momentum but also by the power of the archer’s anger.

Still spinning, Legolas brought his body in behind the thrust and drove the blade in at an upward angle, piercing the creature’s heart.

Scron’s head slowly dropped until he was staring down at the knife protruding from his body. His eyes were wide with shock. He reached up and placed his right forefinger on the tip of the bone-colored handle just above the elf’s hand, as if to make sure that what he was seeing was really there. Unfortunately for him, it was. Scron then toppled over backwards like a felled tree.

The knife was so firmly embedded in the troll and so tightly held in the elf’s hand that Legolas was pulled over on top of Scron’s now prone body. He narrowly missed having the knife’s handle slam into his chest.

The speed of the elf’s attack had taken Aragorn by surprise, even though he had seen the elf perform that maneuver many times while fighting orcs and other fell denizens of the Shadow.

Totally engrossed in the scene playing out right in front of him, Aragorn didn’t think to check the area around them to see if any other trolls had been with Scron. His only thought right then was to help Legolas. He quickly pushed the long knife he held back under his tunic.

By the time Aragorn bent down to help his friend up, Legolas had managed to pull the knife free and had rolled off of Scron on the other side and out of the man’s reach. It didn’t take Aragorn long to make it around the hairy mound to where Legolas had landed on a slab of rock.

He reached out again to aid his friend. However, the elf needed no help, for no sooner had Legolas reached his feet than Aragorn felt the blade of a knife at his throat. He froze every muscle in his body. That included his heart and lungs, and he was close to becoming light-headed until he could get them functioning again.

As chilling as the knife pressing the flesh of his throat was, more chilling was the low growl that resonated deep in Legolas’s own throat. It was a warning not to move, and Aragorn wasted no time in heeding it.

Slowly and softly, Aragorn said, “Legolas, it’s me, Estel. You know me, and you know I won’t harm you, so please lower the knife.”

When the archer raised his head to look full in Aragorn’s face, the man saw the reason for his friend’s violent reaction. Legolas’s eyes were not only reflecting a cold anger, but they were also dilated to the point that only a small circle of blue-gray rimmed the black centers.

More chilling than anything, however, was the fact that there was no recognition in the hate-filled glare of the elven warrior.
Inwardly shaking, but determined not to let his fear show, Aragorn tried again, still speaking softly. “Legolas, do you hear me?”

The almost imperceptible increase in the blade’s pressure against his neck told the man that he had been heard, if not clearly understood. And, the slight sting he felt told him that his skin had been broken. His concern was not for himself. Aragorn worried about the guilt he knew the elf would feel when he finally came to his senses and saw what he had done.

Aragorn refused to give up. “Legolas, it’s Estel. Please, mellon nin, tell me that you know what I’m saying to you.”

The wait was nerve-wracking. Aragorn didn’t know if Legolas would come to himself and back off or simply slit his throat.

The ranger tired to will his heart to keep beating at a normal pace, yet he couldn’t avoid holding his breath. He was only able to keep himself from betraying his fear both for Legolas and for himself by sheer willpower.

After a few more excruciatingly tense minutes, Legolas blinked, and Aragorn let his breath out ever so slowly. Even so, the ranger was still unwilling to move. And as long as the knife remained against his neck, that’s the way he would stay.

Legolas blinked again, and this time the blade gradually dropped down a few inches. Though the elf kept the knife close, it was no longer in a threatening position.

The tension may have eased a bit, but Aragorn’s attention did not waver. He was all too aware of how quickly the situation could revert back to what it had been just a moment ago. The man was not willing to let that happen, if there was anything he could do to stop it.

Aragorn had also seen Legolas act this way toward enemies many times, but to have it happen to him was an experience he’d sooner forget.

There was no question in Aragorn’s mind about what was the root cause of Legolas’s behavior. It was not the elf’s anger at the situation, though that had to be a contributing factor. It was certainly not the absurd idea that he had mistook the ranger for a troll.

The tell-tale answer was in Legolas’s dilated eyes. The elf was quite literally suffering from a severe head injury, compounded by the difficult circumstances they had both found themselves in.

Aragorn’s conclusion was hardly surprising, considering the two head blows Legolas had sustained recently plus the painful shoulder injury that was only adding to the elf’s physical distress. Aragorn was plainly worried.

“May I have the knife?” the ranger asked politely, still keeping his voice low and soft. He knew he was taking a chance asking, since Legolas might consider wanting to be disarmed a threat.

Aragorn slowly reached out, palm up, but made no move to actually take the knife from Legolas’s hand. It would be up to the elf to give the weapon up.

The archer looked down at his friend’s hand before finally nodding and raising the knife. In a deft move, he flipped the knife, catching the blade between his fingers. He held it out to the ranger, handle first.

Aragorn had no sooner reached out and taken the long, slender weapon than Legolas’s legs gave out under him. With the anger gone and the situation defused, the tension the elf had been experiencing was released, and he began to sink toward the ground.

Forgetting everything else, Aragorn grabbed his friend, wrapping one arm around the elf’s waist. He took the knife he had just taken and slipped into the elven warrior’s hand. “Hold onto the knife, Legolas. We may need it later.” He had no idea whether Legolas understood him or not, but he didn’t have the time to worry about it.

Rain was starting to fall again, and he needed to get the elf out of the rocks, along the riverbank upstream and into the forest. A glance over his shoulder told him that some of the trolls were heading their way, though they didn‘t seem to have been spotted yet.

Half supporting and half carrying the elf, Aragorn began to move through the boulders back the way they had come. He was moving as fast as he dared, but at the same time, he couldn’t be as careful as he wanted to be. The two of them had to reach the trees before the trolls reached them, and that wasn’t going to be easy.

Aragorn and Legolas finally cleared the last of the tall boulders, putting them in full view of any troll who happened to be looking their way.

Legolas was still conscious and trying his best to keep from being a burden to his friend, and thus he and Aragorn were able to make fairly good time, though they still had to maneuver around the smaller rocks that littered the sandy riverbank.

It looked like, for once, good luck was on their side. The trolls they had left behind were still looking among the large boulders, sure the escapees were still hiding among them. They had no evidence to prove that theory wrong.

Once the two friends reached the area even with the forest, they made a bee line for the trees. A shout downriver told them that Scron’s body had been found.

“I think those trolls will be looking for another new leader about now,” Aragorn commented.

Legolas, barely able to keep himself from slipping into oblivion, could only manage to nod his drooping head.

While they had been moving, Legolas had been trying to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. He was only partially successful due to the fact that neither his mind nor his body were doing their part to accomplish either action.

He was aware that Aragorn was not only with him but was actually the one moving them along. He felt the man’s arm around his waist and his own right arm across Aragorn’s shoulders. He hated being a burden but was aware that there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

The ranger was tempted to lean Legolas against the first tree he came to, but of course, he couldn’t do that. A tree would offer the elf comfort, but as long as Legolas was on the ground, it couldn’t protect him from the trolls, if they were found. They had a long way to go before there was any way he was going to chance stopping.

“We’ve reached the trees, Legolas,” the ranger informed the elf. “I’m afraid we can’t stop for a while, though.”

Legolas raised his head to look upon his forest friends. This time he managed a small smile, as he felt the trees’ welcome him back. There was a mixture of joy and sadness in the song they sang to him. Joy as his return and sadness that he was injured. “Can we climb?” he asked, so low that Aragorn barely heard him.

“No, Legolas,” the ranger replied, hating having to tell the elf he couldn’t do the one thing he needed the most right now: to rest in the branches of a sheltering tree. “We must find a way out of the trolls’ territory before we can stop.” He added silently, ‘And that may not be anytime soon.’

Suddenly, the two friends heard shouting close by. That in itself would have been cause for worry, but the sound was coming from ahead of them, not behind.

Aragorn uttered a dwarven curse word. He had believed, mistakenly it seemed, that all the trolls had been searching together by the river. It never occurred to him that some might have been left behind in the forest. Did trolls understand the concept of doubling back or were they simply laggards? It didn’t really matter, at this point, why they were there. The fact was that trolls were in front of them, as well as behind them.

As a child growing up among elves in Rivendell, Aragorn had often wished that he was an elf, too. At first, it was in the belief that he would fit in much better than he felt he did as a human. Later, it was because of all the things elves could do that mortals could not. But, Aragorn had never wished for that more in his whole life than he did at this moment. If he was an elf, he could easily carry Legolas up into a tree to hide as long as need be. Eventually, the trolls would give up and go back to their camp.

“Wouldn’t it be a pity to be caught by trolls wandering the forest while those actually looking for us have no idea where we are?” He shook his head.

“What?”

It was then Aragorn realized that he had spoken out loud. He looked at Legolas and noted the half-closed eyes. The elf was barely conscious. Taking a deep breath, the ranger’s determination mounted. Something had to be done. If they were caught again, Legolas wouldn’t survive, and it had nothing to do with being killed by the trolls.

Moving deeper into the forest was no longer an option. So, getting a tighter grip on his friend, Aragorn turned to the left and began to move them in a straight line, parallel to the river. It was the only way that was clear to them. There was no time for subterfuge nor would they be able to hide anywhere. They simply had to move quicker than the enemy. Easier said than done, but it had to be done nonetheless. Their very survival depended on it.

TBC