Chapter Twenty Nine

“Can you tell if it’s one, a few or a big bunch of them?” Aragorn asked, turning to look at Legolas, and giving the elf a hopeful expression. When it came to trolls, he wished for the first but feared it was the latter.

“There is more than one,” Legolas replied, as he titled his head to listen more intently. Then he continued. “However, it does not sound as if a whole group is coming. I do not hear words, just shouting.” Legolas wished he could be the bearer of better news. The more trolls there were, the more they could spread out, and the harder it would be to get away from them. Right now, if there was a confrontation, one of the creatures would be a handful. With a grin, he added, “Of course, there may be many more of them who are not making any noise at all.”

Aragorn groaned. “Just what I needed to hear.” He looked toward the forest. “It might have been better if we had stayed in our shelter,” the man offered. The statement was made without any conviction, though, because he knew as he said it, that remaining under that rock slab hadn’t been much of an option.

Not realizing that Aragorn hadn’t really been serious, the elven archer shook his head. “No. We were right to leave there. It had two open sides, and if they checked there, we would have been caught with no way to escape.”

He didn’t have to explain what that feeling was like. He and Aragorn had been in similar circumstances far too many times not to know exactly how that felt. They would both rather run for their lives, even if there was little chance of getting away, than be trapped in a hopeless situation.

“Then shall we?” Aragorn asked, as he swept his arm forward. It looked like they very well may be running for their lives - and soon.

The all too familiar sound of trolls crashing through underbrush reached the two friends above the shouting, just as they started along the riverbank in the same direction they had taken before falling in the torrent the day before.

It wasn’t long before they saw that the hill at whose base they had sheltered, sloped down to the river’s edge. It was a steep incline, though certainly not one that would have deterred or given more than a little trouble to the elf and ranger had they been in better shape.

The pair came to a stop and looked first at the hill, then at the churning current near the bank and then at each other.

“We have no choice,” Aragorn said. He tried to ignore the ache in his foot that was telling him climbing across this slope was not going to be a enjoyable experience. He would be moving with his bad foot on the downhill side and at an awkward angle, which would put more pressure on it. Then, of course, it would also be easy to roll over on his already painful ankle. Not a pleasant thought.

Legolas studied the course before them while trying to ignore the signals of pain from his body to his brain. His head throbbed in tune with his pulse, and his shoulder ached continuously. They were two different kinds of pain, which actually made them feel worse. Had they been making themselves known in unison, they would have been easier to disregard. As it was, the elf was just going to have to push everything, except finding a way to avoid the trolls, to the back of his mind.

“I will go nearest the river,” Legolas volunteered, so he would be on the man‘s weakest side. “I can help you with your balance.”

“That’s a kind offer,” the ranger replied, “but if I fall, I’d probably take you down with me, and then you’d fall on your bad shoulder, and we’d both be hurt even more than we are now.” He grinned. “We could follow one another.”

Both knew they couldn’t stand around and talk about their strategy. They had to do something and do it fast.

Being careful not to cause Aragorn’s foot any added stress, Legolas moved forward. At the same time he got a firm hold of the ranger’s left arm and gently pushed the man higher up onto the slope, hoping it would be a little more stable than the accumulated rubble nearer the bottom. He made sure there was sufficient distance between them and the water’s edge so that a misstep wouldn’t lead to disaster. He also made sure that Aragorn had no room to try and maneuver below him.

Pursing his lips in resignation, Aragorn let the elf do as he wished. There really was no more time left for two very stubborn people to engage in a verbal confrontation. He doubted he could overcome the elf physically, even with Legolas’s depleted strength and only one good arm.

The terrain where they were consisted mostly of rough, scrubby grass. Also sticking out of the ground or loosely covering the surface of the incline were tiny branches. A few were reaching upward like bony fingers, ready to snag any unsuspecting traveler who dared cross their path. There were varying sizes of rocks partially embedded in the earth. All of these things were very hard on the feet and legs of the fleeing pair, causing them to slip and slide with each step. It took great care to keep from impaling themselves or tripping over the obstacles. Yet, despite it all, they did manage to keep their feet under them - for the most part.

Aragorn had to grit his teeth every time he took a step, fearing that at any moment his bad foot would roll over and add something worse than a sprained ankle to the mix. Oddly enough, it was a slip on a loose rock that saved the man from tumbling into Legolas and sending them both plunging toward the river, which, in this particular spot, was splashing heavily against the rocks at the base of the hill.

His leg had begun to tremble from the sheer effort of keeping upright. He felt his foot about to go over sideways when the rock he had just stepped on gave way, causing his foot to slide out rather than roll over itself. He landed on his right knee, narrowly missing crunching the joint on one of the half-buried stones. Aragorn tried desperately to grab something to keep himself from sliding into Legolas.

The archer felt, rather than saw, what was happening and grabbed the ranger’s arm even tighter to stop his slide and steady him. The elf ended up on his knees, as well, and both friends began to slide. However, neither of them had traveled sideways more that a couple of feet before coming to a stop.

They both watched as little rocks tumbled down and plopped into the water, thankful that it hadn‘t been them.

“That was one disaster averted,” Aragorn said, swinging his other arm wide to aid in gaining his balance. “Now to make it across this slope before another one rears its ugly head.”

“We will make it, Estel. Do not worry,” Legolas assured the man.

“Easy for you to say,” Aragorn retorted. “You don’t have to put your weight on your bad shoulder.”

“You humans certainly do complain when you are forced to put out a little effort after being injured.” The elf’s tone was sarcastic, but it was obvious that humor lay behind the words.

The man snorted but didn’t answer. Despite his own bit of sarcasm earlier, he was grateful for Legolas’s assistance. He had no desire to repeat his wild ride through the raging current to his left.

As they slipped and slid across the slope, Legolas and Aragorn heard shouting across the river. Startled by the direction from which the sound originated, they both stopped and stared.

Running along opposite them were about ten trolls. In the lead was Tack. He had slowed up to keep from moving too far ahead of the stumbling former captives.

“How did he get over there?” Aragorn asked. Almost instantly, the man slapped his forehead. “I didn’t even think about the fact that we ended up on the opposite side of the river to where we started out. I can’t believe that little detail escaped me.” Aragorn seemed more miffed at himself for failing to notice on which side of the river they found themselves than he was about there being trolls on both sides of the river.

Legolas couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, you didn’t think about that either,” the ranger pointed out rather curtly.

“That is why I am laughing. It also did not dawn on me that the river is now on our left and not our right as it was.” It didn’t occur to him that his previously faulty memory had now supplied him with that information.

Aragorn looked behind him before turning his head back to look downhill at his elven friend. “Then who are those trolls behind us? Even trolls could not make it across that river in its current state.”

It had also never occurred to the two of them that more than one group of trolls might be occupying the large territory the creatures inhabited.

“I guess,” Aragorn said with a sigh, “that even if we had realized we had been thrown across the river by the current, we still wouldn’t have been safe from those beasts.” He shook his head. “The ones over here may be even worse than those.” He jutted his chin out to indicate Tack and his group, who were continuing to shout. He thought the difference in the level of cruelty between the two groups would probably be negligible.

Legolas realized that the new leader of the group he and Aragorn had escaped from was not facing them directly. “I think Tack is shouting at the trolls over here on this side.”

“Too bad the two groups can’t get together. Maybe they’d knock each other off and leave us be,” Aragorn grumbled his disappointment.

“Or they could join forces to come after us,” Legolas said, by way of an alternate suggestion.

Aragorn glared at the elf for a moment before a quirky grin crossed the man’s face. “I like my idea better.”

The two then hastily started off again. There was only about ten feet of high ground left before the slope began a gentle incline toward the riverbank on the other side of the hill.

Finally, the pair gained the narrow but level strip of sandy soil between water and stubby grass not far from the edge of the forest. They weren’t naive enough to think the slope they had just spent a hard time crossing would do more than slow the trolls a step or two. With their long strides and heavy weight, they could reach this side of the hill in short order with little difficulty.

Again Legolas came to a dead stop.

Aragorn knew the elf wouldn’t do so at this point in their progress unless something worse than pursuing trolls had caught his attention. When he raised his head to follow Legolas’s intense gaze, his breath caught in his throat.

Coming toward them along the riverbank were four of the largest trolls either of them had ever seen. They wore a slightly different type of clothing than the creatures that had held them captive. This was indeed a different group, but they didn’t look any more friendly than Hatch’s group had when they were first captured. If anything, they looked even meaner.

“Git ’em, boys,” the lead troll yelled with glee in his gruff voice that reminded the elf of orcs. If only... He couldn’t help rolling his eyes, because he couldn’t believe he was wishing for orcs.

When Legolas and Aragorn instinctively turned to run back the other way, they saw the trolls that had been chasing them from the forest. They were crossing the slope.

The elf looked back downriver while the ranger looked upriver. Their options were limited to two. They could stay where they were and become prisoners again and hope for another chance to escape, which was highly unlikely. Or, they could go into the river again.

*~*~*~*

From across the river, Tack watched the scene, as it unfolded before his disbelieving eyes. He could clearly see the two groups of trolls closing in on the beings he himself wanted more than anything right then. He was helpless to stop the other trolls from getting his prize. His ire rose, as he saw the beings pause and then turn, as one, toward the river. They both ran into the swirling water and when it reached their knees, they dove into the full force of the current and were quickly swept away.

It was the second time Tack was having to watch while the former captives used the river to evade the clutches of his group. He had no idea that that was not what had happened the day before, because, to him, that had been the pair’s only means of escaping recapture.

Tack was furious. He ran along beside the river, screaming and waving his arms in the air. He knew there was little chance that he would catch up to the captives. The current carrying them was just too strong, and they were moving much too fast.

Tack knew that yesterday they had come ashore on the opposite bank, so maybe they would do the same thing on this side. He was determined to be waiting wherever it was they ended up.

When Tack got even with the two groups of trolls on the opposite bank, who had now joined up with each other, he yelled out, “Sump, you ain’t gonna git ’em. They’re mine!”

The troll named Sump, who was obviously the other group’s leader, yelled back. “You the new boss over there, Tack?”

“Yeah, and those two are mine.”

“How you figure that?”

“We had ’em first,” Tack yelled back over the roar of the river.

Sump sneered derisively. “Then you couldn’t hold ’em, so they belong to who catches ’em now!” Uproarious laughter erupted from the creature’s twisted mouth, indicating he was convinced it would be him and not Tack who would be the victor. Then he ran off after the two beings that had disappeared from sight.

Sump and his group did the same.

*~*~*~*

Legolas and Aragorn had taken only a moment to decide that going in the river would offer them, if not the best chance of survival, at least the most preferable one. Both knew that at least it beat being tortured, killed and eaten by the disgusting trolls. Though they wouldn’t be aware when the latter happened, the mere thought of having their flesh torn to shreds, their bones ripped apart and then all of it greedily consumed was enough to send more than one shudder down their spines.

They hadn’t said a word to each other. None was needed. A look between them said it all from their mutual decision to their possible farewells. They clasped forearms and then made their way to the river’s edge. Wading in a short way, they then dove into the icy water. It had only taken seconds for the swift current to send them flying downriver.

TBC