Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: Dark Elf (#4200)
Author: Scribe
Chapters: 11

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Lord of the Rings (Movieverse)
Description: When Arwen is kidnapped by a mysterious enemy and taken to her father's  city, Aragorn and the Fellowship discover that Imladris has a new lord who is capable of protecting its borders from all intruders. Faced with sorcery that is beyond their ability, the Fellowship must find a way into Imlardis or risk losing Arwen forever.
Published: 09 Mar 2010
Updated: 09 Mar 2010
Warnings: VIolence and Death
Type: Action/adventure
Characters: Aragon; Legolas; Gimli


Chapter 1 - Betrayal

Betrayed.

He was betrayed.

She had betrayed him. The enormity of what she had done had paralyzed his mind with fury and it did not satiate his rage that he had seen her die by his own hand. She had succumbed too easily for her crime. He wanted to make her suffer. He wanted to make her pay for daring to leave him and compounding her crime by attempting to steal his son away from him, the boy whose mind she had spent years poisoning, in preparation to commit her foul crime upon he, her lord and master. How dare she? He would have killed both of them if he could but fate had seen to it that only one would know the taste of his justice. It stung bitterly that he would not have opportunity to let his son know his displeasure as he had shown his dear, departed wife.

Now there was no time to do anything as he was escorted up Caragdûr by Turgon’s guards who were to execute him for murdering his Aredhel, who was Turgon’s sister. He knew Turgon disliked him, having accepted him only because he had no choice in the matter. Aredhel had bore him a son and that made them kinsmen no matter how he might have acquired her in the first place. He was certain that Turgon knew he would attempt to leave the Hidden City; in fact he was sure of it. Turgon knew that he could not remain in the light, that the need to return home to Nan Elmoth would drive him to escape at any costs. Turgon was waiting for it just as Aredhel was he was certain, both of them, plotting and conspiring their vengeance against him.

Turgon had never forgiven him for making Aredhel his wife. In truth, it was more of abduction than any real effort on his part to court her. A Noldor elf, she was one of its noblest daughters and a great beauty that had no peer. With long waves of mahogany hair and sapphire colored eyes, she gazed at him with all the beauty of the sea. How was he supposed to resist such a creature that had strayed from the city of Gondolin beyond the protection provided by Melian’s Girdle? He had taken Aredhel for his wife even though she had resisted most vehemently. He took her the night he returned home to Nan Elmoth and knew that eventually, she would warm to him by his insistence in making her understand that she was belonged to him now. By the time he had filled her belly with his son; she had more or less relented in her efforts to escape for the child occupied her time.

Little did he know that she was only quiet because she had acquired another accomplice for her betrayal.

This was not the end. He did not intend to end his life now and certainly not by the hands of Turgon. It may appear that his list of options grew short as he was being marched up the black precipice that was Caragdûr but in truth, he had something of a plan for escape. Unfortunately, it was as drastic as any that might be attempted and its results were mixed because he would almost certainly lose the existence that he knew here. On the other hand, if he did not do this, he could be assured of having Turgon hunting him down for the rest of eternity, not simply for the death of his sister but because he knew the location of the Hidden City.

If it were not for Turgon’s relentless desire to ensure the protection of his city, a simple spell of illusion was all that he would use and he would return home to Nan Elmoth. However, he could not risk that news would not reach Turgon and the elven lord of Gondolin would not resume his pursuit. The unfortunate reality of his situation was that there was nowhere in Beleriand that he could hide and going to Middle earth was out of the question, not when Melkor still ruled there. He could probably seek protection from the former Valar but Melkor’s aid often came at a terrible price and he was not about to beholding to the dark enemy for anything.

No, there was only one way to escape and he had no choice but to take it.

They reached the top of Caragdûr and the height to the rocks below made him swallow thickly at how painful a death it would be, to be dashed upon them if his spell failed. Caragdûr was protected by Melian’s Girdle and any spell he attempted before this would have failed. Once he stepped off its edge, he would slip beyond that protection and be free to perform his necromancy. Unfortunately, he had a rather narrow margin for error to ensure that it succeeded and fatal consequences if he failed.

The guards had said nothing to him during the journey here and he had said nothing to them because he had been in deep thought. However, now was the time to speak.


"Is this justice then?" He looked at them.

"More justice then you deserve," the captain of the guard hissed. "You are not only a murderer and a coward but also a violator of women. Death is the least you deserve."

"But it is death that I shall receive!" he shouted and broke free of them.

They started to give chase until they realised that he was not attempting to leave Caragdûr but rather closing the distance to the edge of the precipice. Pausing in confusing as he neared the edge, they could not discern what his thoughts were as he leapt off the cliff and plunged downwards, silent in his final moments. Looking at each other, they completed the journey he had taken to the edge and gazed upon the rocks below, expecting to see the body of the prisoner, but there was nothing.

Nothing at all. 

************

Cold.

It was so cold. He could not breathe. There was blinding pain and his body felt as if it were torn apart in agony before the whoosh of air in his ears disappeared and was replaced by icy, cold water. He opened his mouth to cry out but ice-cold salt water rushed into it. The darkness around him was all consuming and he knew not how deep he was in water. All he knew was that he had performed his spell in order to escape the death of plunging into rocks from a great height, only to be drowned in an ocean he did not know. Keeping his wits about him despite his panic, he followed the direction of the bubbles that came out of his mouth. Swimming faster than he had ever done before, his lung bursting with the need for air, he sought out the sun on the surface of the water but could see nothing of it. This struck cold fear into his heart and swam harder and harder, praying that he was not so deep that he would never find it.

He did not know how long he struggled to reach the surface, aware only that it could not be very long because he would have drowned otherwise. After what seemed an eternity, he finally saw the shimmer of its surface and when he broke through to reach air, he was almost near death. Taking greedy gulps, one after the other, his limbs exhausted from the ordeal to reach the surface, he was able to compose himself enough to look about him. What he saw drove home the true nature of his predicament. Where there should be the lands of Gondolin, all he could see was miles of ocean. It was night and the moon illuminated his surroundings to give him some measure of clarity in his situation. He was threading water in the middle of a frozen ocean for there were sheets of ice lying scattered on the waves.

However, there was no land. There was no Gondolin and no Beleriand.

Terrified and confused at how such a well thought out plan could have come to such decay, he swam to the floating islands of ice and rested his limbs finally. Sleep took him soon enough and he slumbered until morning. The first rays of dawn awoke him and he face the ocean with the full light of morning to explain how far away he was from all. The spell had drained him and because of his circumstances, it did not appear that he would be replenishing his strength any time soon. He saw no sight of land and wondered what could have happened to Beleriand. Had Melkor finally committed some act of evil that drove it under the sea?

Not knowing drove him mad with fear for he wondered if he was all that was left of Beleriand or the Eldar for that matter.

He remained on his sheet of ice for days, surviving on raw fish that he managed to catch and drinking water from with what little magic he had strength left to perform. What terrified him the most was the eventuality that he would still be trapped on the ocean when he had no more strength left and he would starve or freeze, whichever came first. He could not believe that he had escaped Caragdûr to end his days like a piece of driftwood. Perhaps it was Iluvutar’s way of meting out justice. He did not know for certain but in the height of the day when he panicked that his island of ice would melt, such thoughts filled his mind.

It was almost a miracle when he saw the ship and the ship in turn saw him.

The vessel was a fishing boat and its purpose was to seek out delicacies of the sea only to be found at this frozen edge of the world. The crew was composed of the Edain, though the men that they were did not appear to be Numoreans or call themselves such. He thought that they might have been the kind who served Melkor in Middle earth but they seemed to know little of the dark lord. When he told them he was of Beleriand, they thought him to be mad for there was no longer such a land in existence. He knew that his spell had sent him beyond the clutches of Turgon but he had not considered how far he had traveled until faced with the fact that Beleriand, where Gondolin, Nan Elmoth and all the other realms that he had known were now known as the Sunken Lands.

The captain, a learned man, had spent much of the voyage back to land apprising him of the state of the world that he knew nothing of. As far as the man was concerned, he was an elf who had most likely fallen overboard in the exodus his people were making from Middle earth. He listened intently, sometimes in astonishment as he learnt that the Eldar were departing for Valinor in large numbers, leaving the Middle earth to the ministrations of the Edain, who in this instance were the descendants of Numenor, following the War of the Ring. The captain explained this war in great detail, having fought in the Battle of Pelennor. He spoke of Sauron and the land of Mordor who for so many ages had been a blight upon Middle earth.

He recalled vaguely one of Melkor’s lieutenants being called Sauron and supposed that it was all possible that this Sauron could have gained ascendancy over the land in his master’s absence. It mattered little to him though he wished to know more about the fate of Beleriand and what had precipitated its sinking beneath the sea. The captain advised that if he wished to learn about the ancient times then it was to Rivendell that he should go. Rivendell was one of the oldest elven cities and if it was answers he sought, then the captain was certain that as a fellow elf, he would be welcomed since not all the elven cities were entirely abandoned yet.

They arrived in Pelargir and he found himself in a new world composed of Edain, Eldar, dwarves and even some strange creatures that were rumored to be called hobbits. It did not take him long to find his way to Rivendell. Attaching himself to a caravan of peddlers who were traveling to a place called Bree, they were more than happy to point the way with the adequate amount of coinage. It was an easy matter for him to conjure a feat of illusion to make them believe they were being well paid for their troubles. By the time they discovered the swindle, they would be in Bree and he would be in the company of the elves of Rivendell.

The journey to Rivendell took some weeks and it was only because of his elven senses that he was able to find it hidden in its valley. Those who had built the city had taken care to ensure that it was not easily discovered, possibly as a guard against Melkor’s servant, Sauron. While the protection around the city was nowhere as formidable as Melian’s Girdle and had weakened considerably since its lord had departed, the barrier was formidable and ensured that no one who did not know the way could simply stumble upon it.

Upon arriving at Rivendell, he was welcomed as one of them though they thought his speech was archaic. He explained that he had been travelling the world for many ages and that this was the first time that he had returned to Middle earth. Whether or not they believed him was uncertain but they accepted that he was one of their own and gave him shelter. He learnt quickly that Rivendell was in actual fact called Imladris, named so after the valley that the city had been constructed and that its lord before his departure to Valinor, had been Elrond. Elrond was one of the twin sons of the mortal hero Earendil and the elven princess Elwing, born in Arvernien and was of Beleriand.

At Imladris, he learnt what had become of Beleriand, how the ruin of all the great kingdoms had come to pass with the relentless assaults by Melkor and the demons he spawned in Angaband. The destruction he wrought in the eleven cities of Gondolin, Nargothrond, Himland and so many others had brought the intervention of the Valar themselves, in what was known as the War of the Wrath. As a result of the conflict, Beleriand was broken up and swallowed by the sea.

He had sat there for a long time, reading the books that explained all this, in something of a stunned silence. He could not believe that the world he had known had ended so tragically and that Nan Elmoth, the place he wanted to return to so badly was no more. He had hoped that perhaps it existed somewhere but supposed he should have guessed the truth when he had first found himself in the depths of the ocean. For a time, he was uncertain what to do and wandered the slowly emptying halls of Imladris, trying to discern what course was left to him.

He had wandered through the halls of what was once Lord Elrond’s home when he caught sight of something that made his heart stopped beating. For an instant, he dared not breathe as he basked in the vision of beauty that had been immortalized on the canvas of a portrait. She stared at him with sapphire eyes, wearing the face of the only woman he had ever loved. It was like looking into a reflection of the past and finding that the image still living and breathing in the present. He was just as lost as the day he had first looked into the woods of Nan Elmoth and saw the gleaming white figure that was Aredhel. This time, it would be different. She would love him as he loved her and he would not be betrayed as he was by Aredhel, he would see to it. For the first time since finding himself a drift and alone in the sea, his mind was clear because he knew his course and he would do anything to acquire it.

And what Eol wanted was Arwen, Queen of Gondor.


Chapter 2 - Fear

It was quite possibly the first time in his entire life that he had ever truly felt terror.

Oh, he had known fear in his long existence. After all, Elladan of Imladris had been alive since the one hundred and thirtieth year of the Third Age. In his time, he had fought orcs with the Dunedain of the North, stood with his twin brother, Elrohir, at the side of King Aragorn Elessar at Pelargir and then at the Battle of Pelennor, facing odds that would make shake the resolve of even the bravest man or elf. For three thousand years, he had become very well acquainted with the concept of fear in all its sinister shapes and forms but he had to confess to never knowing terror.

Yet as he ran through the woods, racing through the paths like a frightened child, there was no doubt in his mind that it was terror that propelled him forward. He cursed the emotion that robbed him of common sense, that had him trampling through the wood like a club footed troll or worse yet a lumbering ox but he could not help himself. He dared not stop. Beside him, his friend Orophin was feeling just as much trepidation and doing his level best to keep up with his reckless pace.

Elrohir had remained in Eden Ardhon for there was still a good deal of work to be done in the establishing of the new colony that had been created by Legolas Greenleaf. Elladan had chose to make the journey to Imladris in order to ensure that all was still well with his father’s kingdom. Since settling in South Ithilien, the brothers had taken turns making the trip. On this occasion, Orophin had chose to accompany him and Elladan welcomed the company. Orophin had been one of the elves that had joined the Prince of Mirkwood when he had departed from the Woodland Realm.

Orophin had learnt of the prince’s intention in South Ithilien and left behind his own brothers Haldir and Rumil in East Lorien to join Legolas. Orophin, the youngest of the brothers had never journeyed beyond the Golden Wood of Lothlorien and following the exodus of Lord Celeborn to East Lorien, discovered a desire to see the rest of Middle earth before it was time for the elves to leave for the Undying Lands permanently. When Elladan decided to journey to Imladris, with a pause at Minas Tirith to see his sister, Arwen, Orophin was more than eager to have the opportunity to see the center of the Reunified Kingdom.

Unfortunately, both had received more than the bargained for with this trip for even as they attempted to enter the city, they were quick to discover that some invisible force had barred them entry into its borders. Elladan could sense a shadow in the land of his father but even he could not imagine the scope of it until he attempted to breach boundaries of Imladris and found himself wandering familiar paths, only to be led away from the city instead of towards it. How the Enemy had conjured up this barrier was beyond Elladan’s understanding but the prince was wise enough to know that if they could not enter in Imladris, then it was possible no one could escape it either.

It was a secret the Enemy had no wish to reveal to the outside world for Elladan and Orophin soon found themselves facing his dark agent. Not even Sauron instilled as much fear.

Throughout his entire existence, Elladan had been filled with the self assurance that elves could conceal themselves with perfect anonymity when they so desired, however, the Enemy’s agent begin his pursuit, Elladan discovered how fragile that assurance truly was. They were discovered in every place they attempted to hide, be it in the heights of the Misty Mountains or the great gaps of forest before the Anduin, which they now found themselves. The dark creature hunting them proved time and time again, during the course of the pursuit why he had played such a vivid role in the nightmares of elves.

He was running them into exhaustion. Elladan knew the tactic well for he was a keen hunter and had used the practice on particularly spirited game. The comparison did not sit well with him but he could no longer deny the truth of it. As they were driven harder and more relentlessly by their pursuer, Elladan knew that it would not be long before they succumbed. His only hope now remained in reaching the Golden Wood of Lothlorien. Although she was gone, the woods were still protected by Galadriel’s power and Elladan prayed that it would be enough to escape their hunter.

"I cannot go on much longer," Orophin gasped as he tumbled into the ground, his body shaking from weariness.

"We cannot stay," Elladan looked about him anxiously, certain that the beast would be upon them soon enough.

"How could he still exist?" Orophin exclaimed, asking questions to which Elladan had no answer even though the Prince of Imladris wished he could. He was just as perplexed as Orophin about their pursuer but he did not occupy his thoughts with the how, when it did not matter. Knowing would not aid their situation because it would not alter the fact that he was still behind them.

"I do not know," Elladan said breathing hard, trying to ensure that the trees around them were as benign as they appeared and the terrible creature that was hunting them was not lurking in the shadows. "He is here, that is all that matters and we must reach Minas Tirith and tell the King of what is taking place in Imladris. I cannot believe that the Enemy would be content to remain there alone. If he is powerful enough to take my father’s city, then who is to say he will not move against the rest of Middle earth."

"I have heard my Lord Celeborn speak of him but he was old even when Celeborn was young," Orophin panted, resting on his hands and knees, trying to force himself to stand.

Both elves were covered in dirt, the evidence of their hard journey marked upon their clothes and their bodies. A traveler coming past them might be mistaken for thinking that they were men not elves, certainly they did not look like elves in their current state of dishevelment. Elladan let Orophin speak his peace, aware that the younger elf needed to rest a moment even though a moment was all that the prince dare allow him. Above them the sun was starting to set and they notice their pursuer seemed to have more power in the dark. They had to reach Lothlorien before the sun set or they would never reach anything again.

"I always thought him to be a legend," Elladan said off handedly, his eyes searching the landscape for any sign of trouble. He could see none but the hunter’s presence was an ever-lurking shadow upon his senses. "Stories they used to scare us as children. I never dreamed he could be real. I never wanted to think he could be."

"Now we know," Orophin stood up shakily, his weariness telling on his face.

Suddenly, Elladan felt a cold shiver run over his skin and he took it immediately as a signal to run. Since this relentless chase had begun where they had found themselves prey, he had come to recognize the signs that spoke the hunter’s presence was near. The sensation built quickly until even Orophin in his exhaustion felt it and was spurned into moving.


"RUN!" Elladan ordered and fear infused them with new vigor as they surged forward, moving as fast as their legs would take them, unconcerned that they would leave tracks because it did not matter, they could not hide from him, all they could do is get away.

The stamina of elves were said to be boundless but even they had limits and Elladan felt his breathing become more and more labored as they crested yet another hill. Neither he nor Orophin could continue this pace much longer. His companion was struggling to keep up, his steps hindered by a slight limp that was causing him to lag further and further behind. Elladan wanted to pause but if he did, he feared he would not be ale to start again. Suddenly, from the crest of the hill, they saw Lothlorien’s lush wood and felt the first stirrings of hope in too long.

"Orophin!" Elladan called behind him. "Looks, Lothlorien lies before us!"

"Thank Manwe," he heard the former warden of the Golden Wood exclaim with great joy.

The hunter was closing in on them, Elladan could feel it but their sighting of Lothlorien gave them great incentive to continue their breakneck pace. They crossed the space between hill and the forest swiftly, the scent of the Golden Wood diminish greatly the sinister feeling that had snared them for so many days during their journey. Elladan could see the trees before him, great hulking things with power of their own. The power of its protection was not merely in Galadriel’s power but also in the trees that were rooted here. Feeling a burst of power that came from knowing he was so close to rest, Elladan covered the remaining distance into the Golden Wood with brisk speed.

Only when he was shaded by the tall trees and felt the power of the Lady who had once dwelt here, did he pause to rest. Turning around, he saw Orophin smiling happily because he too had seen the wood of his former home and was glad to be shrouded in its power. Suddenly without warning, a great blade swept out of nowhere and struck the elf with such force, his body did not simply bleed, it exploded. Blood splattered in all direction, covering Elladan with its warmth. Orophin never even had time to scream as his body, cleaved in half at the waist flew across the ground like a doll.

"OROPHIN!" Elladan screamed helplessly, impotent in his fury and feeling anguish rise up his gullet and strangle his throat with its bile.

Orophin did not answer because he was beyond anything. However, landing where he had stood, was the beast that had slaughtered.

The beast’s shape was neither man nor elf but still possessed traits of both. His body was almost the size of an Olog Hai but nowhere as brutish or cumbersome. Large teeth protruded from either side of his lips, appearing more like tusks. His brow was heavy and his hands were big, holding a sword that was befitting his stature. He stared at Elladan with yellowed eyes and his feet were not like men’s feet but rather like that of an animal, a wolf to be precise. His skin was dark, like charred wood and muscles glistened under a fine sheet of sweat as he turned his gaze upon Elladan and proceeded to run his sword between his index finger and his thumb, cleaning the remnants of Orophin’s blood from the steel.

"I will find you little elf," he spoke, his voice a deep, rumbling noise that seemed to resonate through the prince’s bones. "If not today, tomorrow. Shelter while you can in your Golden Wood but I will find you again like I found the first of you so long ago."

Elladan was trembling with fear but there was enough fire in him to dare speak, "And I swear that I will kill you, beast."

"Beast?" The creature seemed to laugh, finding the appellation amusing. "Your kind have developed a good deal more spine than I am accustomed to seeing. You were nowhere as spirited when I brought the first of you to my master, although you did scream so beautifully."

"Come after me if you dare!" Elladan shouted, half-hysterical as he continued to see what remained of Orophin bleeding into the grass, while he himself was soiled with blood. "Before you take me I will show you how spirited I can be!"

"Take care little elf," the beast replied with a harder and more menacing edge to his voice. "I withdraw now because he who has brought me into this time requires my presence elsewhere but I will not be gone long. Rest assured that I will be back for you."

With that, the creature withdrew, his body moving away from the wood like a shadow rising with the shift of sun, leaving nothing behind but the destruction he had created. Elladan wiped the blood from his face before sinking into the ground and praying that he could reach safety before he shared Orophin’s fate.

**************

Aragorn was not getting anything done.

It was hard to keep his thoughts on the affairs of state when his impulse each time his attention wandered caused him to steal furtively out of the throne room where such proceedings were often conducted and straight to the royal nursery where his infant son awaited. He knew it was foolishness to wish to see the boy every other minute or so when the child appeared exactly same way as he last beheld him but Aragorn could not help himself. He simply could not get enough at basking at the sight of little Eldarion within his cradle, sleeping obliviously to his father’s stolen glances.

A week ago the boy had come into his life and Aragorn could not imagined how he had ever survived without this tiny presence in the world, ensnaring his heart as completely as it had been when Arwen first cast her dazzling gaze in his direction. Since then, Aragorn was in a stupor known to every man since the first woman produced a child and he was quite content to never be free of it. His son, who was little more than a small bundle of swaddling deigning occasionally to reward his father with slow lumbering movements when he emerged from sleep long enough, had completely enchanted him. Aragorn knew that he could not care less if the workings of Gondor came to a grinding halt as long as he was allowed to enjoy his son.

To the rest of Gondor, Eldarion’s birth was the final step in the solidification of his reign. With the birth of a son, the future of the Reunified Kingdom was assured, as was his position as king since an heir meant security. However, Aragorn looked into that cherubic pink face, that knew nothing but sleep and warmth, he did not see the future King of Gondor or the fate of the kingdom, he saw only his son, the finest thing he had ever helped to create in his entire life. If he wanted to make his kingdom great, it was only so that this precious life before him would never know the hardship he had seen or the struggles that he, and so many others at his side, had endured to bring peace across the land.

Aragorn crept into the royal nursery and found his son fast sleep in his crib, once again indifferent to the father who was neglecting almost everything lately to be in his presence. The king stepped into the room which adjoined his and Arwen’s bedchamber for the Arwen was reluctant to have her child being placed in the care of others despite her station as queen. Ignoring the protestation of court advisers who thought it inappropriate that the Queen of Gondor should attend her child like a wet nurse when there more than enough staff in the palace to fulfil that role, Arwen was adamant that she be present for every aspect of motherhood. Even the tedium of caring for a newborn.

It was a decision that Aragorn agreed with wholeheartedly. Of course, they had to accept that as King and Queen of the Reunified Kingdom, there were instances where they would have to allow others to do for the child since they were required to attend the business of rule. For most part however, they looked upon the arrival of Eladarion with the enthusiasm of any new parent and were eager to take part in every aspect of the child’s first days in the world. Although, Aragorn had to admit with a wry smile as he basked in the vision of the small infant sleeping peacefully in his cradle, he appeared to be better dealing with the child’s twilight feedings than Arwen.

At the moment, Eldarion was this small, wrapped bundle; prone to sleeping with his arms crooked on either side of his head on his back. He was all soft pink flesh and bore a distinctly pleasant scent about him that was indescribable but common to all newborn babies. His features were difficult to tell because his face was still a little wrinkled with a bow shaped mouth and eyes that did not quite focus when they fluttered open between the intervals of his lengthy slumber. Aragorn noticed when he was awake; he was prone to staring at them as if trying to discern whom Arwen and he were.

Aragorn traced a finger along the infant’s cheek, causing the child to react slightly to his touch but not enough to awake. The king was tempted to pick up the baby but knew that his son was sleeping soundly and had no need to be disturbed just to satisfy his father’s paternal need to bond. The nursery was at present filled with all the gifts and toys that had been sent from well wishers all across the land who were eager to ingratiate themselves to the court of Gondor. Some of the gifts were charming and others were extravagant and wholly inappropriate.

The crib was placed a good distance away from a large window, which looked into the garden for Arwen wanted their son to see beauty from the instant he was born. Aragorn’s arguments that he would not even be able to recognize anything for the first year of his life earned a scathing glare from his wife that only made him move the thing where she wanted and keep such comments to himself.

Suddenly, he felt a hand upon his shoulder and found himself turning around to find himself at a frowning Legolas. Neither man spoke but Aragorn guessed by the expression on the elf’s face that he was not happy. However Legolas had not spoken for fear of awaking the baby and Aragorn sighed, realizing that he was going to have to step out of the room to discern what the prince wanted of him, although he had something of an idea. Casting a parting glance at his sleeping son who had no inkling that he had visitors, Aragorn followed the elf out of the nursery in the hallway.

"What is it Legolas?" Aragorn asked sheepishly, knowing full well why the elf was annoyed once the door to the nursery was shut solidly behind them.

"What is it?" The elf stared at him incredulously. "Forgive me if I am wrong but were we not in a discussion regarding merchant trade routes when you surreptitiously remarked that we should look over the border maps and while our attention was there, you chose that moment to sneak out of the room?"

"They were very large maps," Aragorn said feebly. "I was certain you and Faramir would take some time studying them."

"A likely story," Legolas rolled his eyes in disbelief. "You know there is an old saying, if you continue to watch an infant every second of the day, he will never grow."

"Where was he?" Faramir, Lord of Ithilien appeared down the hallway a moment later. He and Legolas had formed a two-pronged search to find the king although in truth, they should have suspected instantly that there was only one place he would go.

"Venture a guess," Legolas gave Aragorn a look.

Faramir rolled his eyes in resignation and conceded defeat, "we might as well resolve ourselves to the fact that he will be of little use to us for the next week or so. Let us adjourn for the day."

"Does that mean I can return to the nursery?" Aragorn asked with a little smile, aware that he was taxing the patience of his friends but also recognizing that they were more amused by his behavior then truly upset.

"No!" Both Faramir and Legolas declared together.

"Let the poor child sleep in peace," Legolas clamped a hand upon Aragorn’s shoulder and led him away from the room. "You are fussing over him like a hen."

"I am King you know," Aragorn bristled, "you are supposed to speak to me with dignity."

"I apologise," Legolas said not at all repentant. "It is hard to remember that when I have seen you lying drunk underneath the table at a tavern with one hand on an empty pint and the other around Boromir’s foot."

"You would have enjoyed yourself if you simply had a drink like the rest of us," Aragorn retorted smoothly, remembering the stop the Fellowship had made in a small town and a particularly lively tavern during the Quest of the Ring. With the exception of Legolas, everyone had cause to suffer the next morning from the excesses of drink. Besides, he did not wish to say out loud that his hand was around Boromir’s foot to ensure that the Man of Gondor did not in a drunken stupor, attempt to take the One Ring from Frodo.

"Now there is a story I would like to hear, " Faramir grinned, always wishing to hear tales of his brother’s last days. After two years, Faramir was finally at a point where he no longer mourned Boromir’s life but rather celebrated it with the friends he had made in the Fellowship.

"Oh do not worry," Aragorn frowned in Legolas’ direction, "I am certain the elf will provide you with every lurid detail."

"Only because I was the only one sober enough to remember any of it," Legolas replied smugly.

"Actually, we came to find you for a good reason," Faramir answered with a little chuckle, "Legolas’ friend has arrived."

"The Istar?" Aragorn turned to the elf.

"Yes," Legolas nodded. "Just now, he awaits you in your throne room,"

Aragorn knew that the Istar Pallando had spent some time at Thranduil’s court and had asked Legolas to send a message to Mirkwood, summoning the wizard here at his convenience.

"What is your intention towards him Aragorn?" Faramir asked, knowing something of the wizard from Legolas’ tale of how he had happened upon the man in the Grey Mountains but not Aragorn’s reasons for bringing him to Minas Tirith.

"Considering the evil we have seen since Sauron’s fall and Gandalf’s departure, I thought that perhaps it would be a good idea if Isengard was once again governed by a true Istar, if that suits him of course." Aragorn explained.

"That is a wise idea," Legolas agreed, "but I am not entirely certain that Pallando would wish to sit at the head of the order. He strikes me as one who would prefer to wander about as Gandalf did, not sit in occupation of the Orthanc like Saruman."

"All the more reason to think that he can be trusted," Aragorn replied. "Those who do not seek out positions of authority are often the most suitable to have it."

Faramir supposed that was true since Aragorn was living proof of this although he did not say it out loud. Aragorn had always seemed to present the impression of being the reluctant ruler of Gondor, that he was king not because he was heir to the title but because he was the only one who was able to unite his people. It was this devotion to the good of all that had made Faramir and others throughout the land throw the weight of their support behind Isildur’s heir and the growing House of Telecontari.

"I suppose," Legolas shrugged; believing he knew Pallando well enough to say for certain that wizard would refuse the offer. However, Aragorn’s idea had merit and Legolas did not want to dash the king’s hopes before he had a chance to present it to Pallando. "He is awaiting for you. Do you think you can tear your thoughts away from the nursery long enough to see him?" Legolas asked with a hint of teasing.

"I think I can manage," Aragorn gave him a look. "You know, when it is both your turns to be in my position, I am going to be just as merciless in my torment of you."


"You are certainly allowed," Faramir grinned. "But that day is not today and it is still your turn."

**********

 

The White City had not changed much although the mood of it was certainly more palatable than it was during his last visit. When he had first journeyed here, Gondor had been at the height of its power and Minas Tirith certainly reflected its prestige. In those days, there was arrogance about the place, a confidence in its people that could tip the balance between good and evil easily if left unguided. Since his departure from Gondor, the kingdom had been broken up; Isildur had fallen at Gladden Hills and the subsequent rise of the Stewardship. With the culmination of events that was the War of the Ring, Gondor seemed to have reclaimed much of its former glory but laced with this success was also a hint of humility, of understanding that they had survived tumultuous events and being grateful for it.

The city itself had seen some reconstruction and Pallando was told that much of this restoration was due in part to the destruction caused when Saurian had tried to lay siege to the great city. Great walls of mithrail now protected the White City from conquerors, a construct of beauty and strength that was undoubtedly the product of dwarf craftsmanship. Apparently, the King had contracted the services of the dwarf lord that was of the Fellowship to build this formidable structure and Pallando admitted when he entered the city that the gates did look quite impressive. Pallando’s travels throughout the eastern world of Middle earth had not kept him abreast of the exploits of Gondor’s king although Legolas had told him much during the journey to Mirkwood from Ered Mithrin some months before.

Now he waited within the throne room of the palace, wondering why it was that the king had sent for him even though his presence had been requested more than summoned to court. Pallando had come purely out of interest in meeting the man who had some how become the undisputed ruler of the Reunified Kingdom by sheer force of will and by the courage of his deeds. Such men were rare and the opportunity to visit with the former Prince of Mirkwood and the Ranger he had married had also given Pallando added incentive to make the journey to Minas Tirith.

"Wizard," Pallando heard Legolas’ voice call out to him from the corner of the room.

"Prince," he turned to greet Legolas with a happy smile.

The men met each other in a warm embrace before Legolas pulled away. "How is my father?"

"Missing you," Pallando replied, certain that he was telling the prince nothing he did not already know. "He tries to hide it but it shows."

Legolas nodded imperceptibly unsurprised by this revelation. After all, it had been only a few months since he had departed Mirkwood permanently for Ithilien to establish his own realm. The parting had not been any easier for Legolas then it had been for Thranduil although if truth were known, his separation from his father was greatly helped by his marriage to the Ranger Melia. Thranduil had attended the wedding and though he had previously voiced his objections to Legolas’ marriage to a mortal woman, at the celebration, he had been nothing but warm to the young woman. Thranduil had accepted that Legolas had the right to choose his own fate and to abide by his son’s decisions.

"I miss him," Legolas said quietly, not wishing to discuss his feelings about his father in so public a setting and proceeded instead to introduce Pallando to Aragorn and Faramir.

Aragorn regarded the wizard with deep scrutiny; inevitably measuring him against Gandalf who had been his friend for so long. Pallando appeared very different in appearance but it was soon evident that he shared the same gentle humor as the gray wizard who had departed the sea not too long ago. After introductions were made, they retired to the smaller annex adjoining the throne room where Aragorn conducted more face-to-face and personal discussions with his subjects instead of being surrounded by the formality of court.

"You summoned me here, Sire," Pallando said once they were seated. "I would know why."

"I requested your presence, there is a difference," Aragorn reminded.

"Not when made by the King of the Reunified Kingdom, that is not an invitation turned down lightly," the wizard retorted and Aragorn supposed he could not argue with that assessment.

"I wish you to take residence in the Orthanc at Isengard," Aragorn explained deciding that for his troubles journeying form Mirkwood, the least that he could do was to speak plainly regarding his intentions. "Before Gandalf left, I know he had trained a number of acolyte wizards. They now reside in the Orthanc and I thought that it might be wise to have an Istar watch over them. Legolas spoke highly of you and I thought…."

"You thought that I might consent to guide them in Olorin’s stead," Pallando guessed without needing Aragorn to elaborate further."

"Would you do it?" Aragorn asked hopefully even though Legolas seated next to the King seemed skeptical.

"I do not think I am ready to sit in judgement over younger acolytes," Pallando said honestly.

Inwardly, he was still stinging from the loss of Alatar and how he had failed his friend so completely. Pallando and Alatar had been one of five Istar that came from the Undying Lands to fight Sauron’s evil in Middle earth. While Gandalf the Grey had succeeded the most towards this end, Saruman had fallen to shadow, becoming corrupted by evil and almost as dangerous as Sauron. Radagast chose to stay out of the fight altogether by retreating into the forests where only the plight of the wood could stir his interest. Pallando had journeyed for a time with his close friend Alatar whose desire to create a perfect being capable of resisting Sauron’s darkness had evolved into a greater threat to Middle earth than anyone could possibly imagine. If it had not been for Legolas and Melia, Pallando would not have been able to stop Alatar and his creations would have been unleashed upon Middle earth to the ruin of all.

However Pallando also did not want to sit by and withdraw his aid from those who needed it, not as he had done with Alatar. He had learnt the hard way, what consequences such actions could have and as much as he did not wish to take Saruman’s place at the Orthanc, he did not want to refuse the King’s request for help. Even though he knew little of Aragorn, he drew a sense of the man from his presence before the wizard and Pallando know that there was a nobility in him that kept his motives pure and focussed on the well being of his people.

"That is not to say that I will not be far away however," Pallando offered after a moment. "I could keep an eye on the Orthanc if you like, perhaps ensure that those who reside there do not abuse their responsibilities as Saruman once had."

Aragorn broke into a grin, prepared to accept that much, if he could not convince Pallando entirely to take up residence in Isengard.

"That would be much appreciated wizard," Aragorn smiled.

"You surprise me Pallando," Legolas remarked. "I did not think he would convince you."

"Well," Pallando sighed. "I have remained in the wilderness for far too long," he confessed. "I should have aided Olorin in his work, not waste my time wandering through the east when so much took place here."

"Sometimes one must walk their own path, even one who is Istari," Aragorn said softly, his voice full of kindness for he knew well what it was to be unable to save a friend who had become as a brother. He had been spared the ordeal of having to fight Boromir when the man of Gondor had attempted to take the One Ring from Frodo but he could well understand the pain that Pallando felt when he saw Alatar die. Boromir’s death had marked Aragorn in a way he never believed possible and he understood how profound an experience that could be to see someone who was dear to him, wander down a path that would eventually cost them their life.

"What has happened in the past cannot be altered but the future awaits and I will not lie to say that we do not need you," Aragorn resumed speaking. "There are evils left to be fought in the world, not all the dark magic of the past ages has ended with Sauron’s demise. They still linger and your presence will aid us in battling them when they appear again to plague us."

"The king speaks wisely does he not," Legolas smiled faintly, staring at Aragorn like a proud father instead of his best friend at the moment.

"He does," Pallando nodded with a smile when suddenly he noticed Legolas’ expression darken.

The elf stood up abruptly, his eyes widening with such stark fear that all who saw him were immediately alarmed. In a split second of time, his pallor had paled and he almost looked white as a sheet. Aragorn had never seen Legolas terrified in his entire life but the expression on his face at that moment, made the King’s own heart begin to pound with similar anxiety. Legolas was breathing hard as he looked about him as though he was searching desperately for something he could not see. It took a moment for Aragorn to understand that he was so afraid that he was actually panicking.

"What is it?" Aragorn demanded unable to endure any more seeing him in this state.

Legolas did not answer. There were no words to describe this feeling that had suddenly overcome him, that made his heart gallop like a wild stallion running for dear life, his stomach contracted into a fist of flesh inside of him and the air seemed to have become stale and unbreathable. In all his life, he had never experience the sensation that had reached into his chest and ripped apart his soul with ease. There was something familiar about this terror but for the life of him, he could not remember what it was. Its shadows drove deep into his memories, in a place that he barely knew existed before this moment but was fully aware of now.

Pallando was in a similar state though not nearly as frightened as Legolas clearly was. The Istar could feel the darkness that had suddenly infused his being with tendrils of ice, clasping his heart and proceeding to crush the breath from his lungs. He staggered a little and felt Faramir’s hand offering him support as he swallowed thickly, trying to control himself as the malevolent spirit he could feel, resonated throughout his bones.


"Are you alright?" Faramir asked concerned.

"No," Pallando shook his head in answer. "None of us are."

"LEGOLAS!" Aragorn shook the elf after hearing the wizard’s words. "Speak!"

"Something is here," Legolas managed to say as he pushed past Aragorn. "Something has entered the city!"

"Legolas!" Aragorn caught his arm, refusing to let him go, not in the present state he was in.

"Let me go!" Legolas fairly shouted. "It is in the city and its close Aragorn!"

"What do you mean close?" Aragorn demanded.

Legolas turned to him and Aragorn could swear he could feel the elf trembling in his grip. "I mean that it is here, in the palace!"

************

 

"Why am I letting you do this to me?" Melia, wife of Legolas asked wearily after falling down on her behind once again.

"Because," Eowyn, Lady of Ithilien and Shield Maiden of Rohan said with smug triumph as she held her sword in one hand, while offering Melia the other in order to help the former Ranger to her feet. "You wanted to know how to handle a sword with some measure of accuracy. You asked me to teach you since you felt that a woman who knew how to brandish such a weapon would be in better stead to teach one who did not, as opposed to being taught by a man."

"I recall," Melia frowned taking the hand offered to her and allowing it to aid her rise to her feet once more. "At the time, it had seemed like a good idea."

"It is still a good idea," Arwen declared as she sat in the private garden outside the suite of rooms she shared with Aragorn in the palace. It was the first time in a week that the Queen of Gondor had been allowed to breathe the fresh air of the outside world and a she sat in a chair, basking in the sunlight while son slept in his crib, watching her two closest friends sparring with each other, the elven queen was very much at peace. "You can learn from no better than Eowyn."

"I did not think it was going to cause me this much pain," Melia grumbled as she stood up and took up position to continue the lesson. The former Ranger of Angmar, who had befriended Arwen and Eowyn during their quest to Nargothrond and aided them in the defeat of the ancient enemy Glaurung some months ago, had recently married Legolas and was now Lady of Eden Ardhon, the elven city of South Ithilien. Although Melia was an excellent shot with a crossbow, she had confessed to Eowyn a desire to learn swordplay since her own skills in this regard was mediocre at best.

"You want to know pain," Arwen snorted unsympathetically, "try enduring several hours of childbirth. That is a true test of endurance."

Eowyn and Melia looked at each other unable to find any argument to refute the queen’s statement and decided that it would be best to let it slide.

"Enough stalling for time," Eowyn retorted, snapping Melia’s attention back to the business at hand. "I told you before that you should not over extend your thrust." She punctuated this bit of instruction by showing Melia how the move was performed correctly. "We are not men, we do not have the strength they do when carrying swords. If you are fortunate enough to acquire a weapon made specifically for you or a come into possession of dagger, well and good but if you are not then you must learn how to use the common variety and those swords are heavy. If you extend your thrust you will not have the physical strength to pull back to keep yourself from being left vulnerable. During that margin of time when you attempt to compensate for the error, your opponent is going to kill you."

"Understood," Melia nodded, absorbing the advice and held out her weapon in readiness to fight. "Shall we?"

"Are you certain you would not like to rest?" Eowyn asked with a teasing smile, aware that she was challenging Melia somewhat. "Perhaps retire for the day."

"Eowyn, you are being nasty," Arwen informed her dutifully, even though she enjoyed watching the two sparring. They were very entertaining.

"Do not trouble yourself on my account," Melia declared haughtily glaring at Eowyn with narrowed eyes, "you realize of course, this is war."

"Then let the battle begin," Eowyn answered with one brow arching playfully before she swung her blade against Melia.

Melia blocked the strike but Eowyn was very practiced at the craft and the power behind it was enough to drive the Ranger back a step as she tried to hold her own against Eowyn’s skill. Eowyn was a hard taskmaster when it came to teaching her friend how to brandish her weapon but mostly because she was so honored to be asked to provide such a service. All her life, Eowyn had hidden her skills because it was not seemingly for a woman and until Pelennor Fields had wondered if she was not something of an aberration for refusing to remain in the sidelines while the men went to fight their wars. Melia fit in so well with herself and Arwen because neither of them were women who would ever be content to let themselves be defended, not when they were more than capable of performing the task themselves.

Eowyn swung her blade but this time, Melia surprised her by dropping to her knees and swinging her leg before her in a neat arch that swept Eowyn’s feet from under her. The lady of Rohan uttered an indignant cry as she felt on the grass and saw Melia moving in with her blade about to strike. Never to be taken unawares, Eowyn was soon on her knees, blocking Melia’s strike and pushing back with enough strength to ensure that Melia was once again in retreat, giving Eowyn ample time to stand upright.

"That was innovative Melia," Arwen called out from her chair. If her body were not mending from Eldarion’s birth, Arwen was certain she would have like to have taken part in Eowyn’s lesson for her own skills with the sword could always bear refining.

"Thank you," Melia commented as she blocked again Eowyn’s stroke. "It was borne out of desperation."

"I could tell," Arwen teased.

Melia gave her a look before she turned to see Eowyn’s blade at her throat. With a heavy sigh, the Ranger rolled her eyes in exasperation, wondering if she would ever learn to use the weapon with any sort of skill.

"That is what comes of not paying attention," Eowyn replied as she held her blade firmly against Melia’s throat. "You left yourself vulnerable."

"I noticed," Melia grumbled, giving the steel at her neck a venomous glare. "I do not suppose you would like to learn how to use a crossbow? I would be delighted to teach you."

"I am certain you would," Eowyn laughed as she lowered her sword. "If it makes you feel any better, you are improving."

"Oh good," Melia retorted. "I would hate to think I fight worse than a five year old instead of better."

Melia and Eowyn laughed merrily as they joined Arwen, deciding that they had sparred enough for the day. Both did not voice how good it was to see Arwen so animated because the birth of Eldarion had been exhausting for the queen and the event was only a week behind them. Arwen still bore the mark of her ordeal as evidenced by the dark circles under her eyes and the slightly diminished color of her usually luminescent skin. This was the first time in a week that she had been strong enough to leave her room and both Eowyn and Melia were more than happy to keep her company though they had pretended to spar, in order to make the queen feel less like she was being minded by her two friends.

"So how is life at Eden Ardhon?" Arwen asked Melia. "It must be terribly different after wandering the wilds of Angmar for so long."

"It is different," Melia confessed. "But it is nice to have a home at last. It has been a long time since I could call any place that."

"And how do you fare living amongst elves?" Eowyn asked. Her memories of Haldir still made her bristle and while Legolas was at least tolerable, Eowyn was certain that he was the exception to the rule. After all, if he were not, Gimli would have killed him within the first day of the Fellowship setting out from Rivendell. However, Eowyn knew she was being unfair by judging all elves by Haldir. After all, Arwen was an elf to and Eowyn considered the queen her best friend in the world.

"They are not so bad," Melia replied. "Once you get accustomed to them. I feel like a cumbersome child next to them. Since becoming a Ranger I have prided myself in being able to move silently but surrounded by elves, I feel as if I am the only person there capable of making noise."

"My people are made differently from yours," Arwen replied, "but I am certain that you are able to teach them a few things."

"They know that I am capable of driving their prince to bouts of screaming," Melia said wearing a wicked smile on her face, "and usually from consternation."

"Yes," Eowyn mused, "I believe I am well versed in that art as well though my skill is most effective when used against men of Gondor."

The three of them started to laugh again when suddenly, Arwen fell silent and her expression became grave.

"Something is here," she uttered softly, her eyes widening with fear.

"Here?" Eowyn stared at her in disbelief; unable to imagine any threat could reach them in Minas Tirith.

There was little time to debate the validity of Arwen’s insight because no sooner than Eowyn had spoken, something shattered the serenity of their afternoon. The beast that landed before them drove all coherent thought from their minds. Their reaction was nothing less than terror as they all screamed almost simultaneously as the creature that had almost taken Elladan’s life stood before them.

"Arwen run!" Eowyn shouted, the first to come to her senses.

The thought of staying to fight did not even crossed her mind, not when faced with the demon that towered over all of their heads. When they had faced the dragon at the Blue Mountains, they had been frightened but not to the extent they were now. There was something about this creature that was more than just terrifying because of its size and obvious peril, there was something about its malevolence that reached down into their souls and sparked the kind of fear that was inspired by shadows and darkness. Not since Eowyn had faced the Witch King had she known this kind of panic. Casting a sidelong glance at Arwen and Melia, Eowyn saw that she was not alone in feeling this way.

Suddenly the beast stunned them all by speaking, "Evenstar."

Arwen cringed as she heard its name from its lips. She wanted to run away because this thing, whatever it was, frightened her down to the most basic level. She could hear Eldarion crying out for her in the back of her mind, somehow the elven side of him had reacted to the beast as well and she found herself wanting to run to him, to take her in her arms and comfort him but the thought of this creature following her, going anywhere near her son forced the thought from her mind.

Hearing it speak Arwen’s name provoked Eowyn’s fighting spirit and she stood forward, brandishing her blade. "Stay away from her!"

The beast looked at Eowyn almost fascinated before he started to laugh. It was a deep throaty sound that seemed to penetrate her bones and made her shudder.

"Would you fight me mortal?" The beast asked, raising his mighty sword for her to see.

"Eowyn, let us go!" Melia shouted, starting to drag Arwen away from the sight of this monster.

Seeing Melia prompt Arwen into moving spurned the beast into movement. Without even giving any of them time to react, the creature swept past Eowyn, towards Arwen. Arwen dropped to the ground as he reached her, only to have Melia stand its way, barring him access. He paused but a moment to consider briefly the obstacle before his mighty arm lashed out, striking Melia so hard that she fairly flew over Arwen’s head, slamming into the wall behind them. The sound made by the Ranger’s body against the brick was loud and sharp. Arwen was certain that she heard bones breaking.

"Melia!" Arwen cried out and scrambled to her feet to reach the former Ranger.

Eowyn saw Melia crumple to the ground, blood gushing out of her mouth and felt her own rage properly inspired. She ran forward without thinking and sunk her blade into the beast’s side, not caring about the consequences to herself. The beast hardly flinched at the attack, turning around slowly to regard the black blood pouring from his body. Eowyn felt her own blood run cold when it dipped a finger into the wound and examined the stain upon its tips as if it were a mere curiosity, not a life threatening injury. He turned around slowly, his yellow eyes narrowing at her with clear intention of doing her great harm.

"You drew blood," he rumbled.

"I will draw more if you do not withdraw you foul animal!" Eowyn screamed, hiding how truly frightened she was of this thing before her.

His sword came towards Eowyn and the Shield Maiden of Rohan had barely enough time to avoid the blade as it sank into the ground next to her. She tumbled to the ground to escape it and was soon crawling on all fours to escape when thick fingers sunk into her skull and lifted her body off the ground. Eowyn cried out as her hands struggled to reach the powerful grip that had ensnared her so easily. She grunted in pain as the beast kept her suspended above the ground, her legs dangling. The beast turned her around to face him as if he were holding some strange little animal for examination. After a further second of thought, he flung Eowyn aside as if she were a rag doll. The Lady of Ithilien landed on the ground and did not move.

"Eowyn!" Arwen cried out seeing another friend fall to the creature before.

"She had my sword," a new voice said suddenly appearing out of nowhere.

Arwen, who had been attending a very badly injured Melia, looked up to see the new arrival. She did not recognise him but he was undoubtedly an elf. He looked a little younger than her father and was handsome in a way but his eyes had such granite coldness to it that she felt repulsed by him immediately. He observed the proceedings dispassionately, lowering himself to the place where Eowyn had dropped her sword and retrieved it. For a few seconds, he did not speak as he admired the blade that had once belonged to Turin Turambar. Arwen had made a gift of the weapon to Eowyn for helping her with her troubles with Glaurung and for ensuring that Eldarion was born safe.

"I made this weapon you know," the elf said to Arwen with a smile, the first flicker of emotion appearing in his eyes when he gazed upon her. "It is called Anglachel and I gave it to Thingol who later presented it to Turin. Strange how I find it here, just as I find you here."

"Me?" Arwen stammered. "What is it you wish of me? Who are you?"

He smiled coldly and answered as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world, "your new lord and master."


Chapter 3 - Impossibility

Aragorn could hear Eldarion screaming down the hallway.

At first it was Legolas who had led them to the source of evil the elf claimed to have invaded the palace but when that guidance brought them into the wing reserved for himself and his queen, it was Aragorn who found himself running ahead of the others. His son’s plaintive cry tore through his ears and though by this time, the palace staff had appeared in the corridor to attend him, Aragorn’s primary concern was why Arwen had not answered their son’s call first. The answer to that questioned for her absence hastened the king’s pace to reach the nursery, particularly in light of this terrible evil that Legolas claimed was now lose within the walls of his castle.

He arrived the doorway just as one of the maids was about to enter and she wisely stepped aside when she saw her king and his companions approaching with some urgency in their faces. Aragorn’s barely registered her presence, his only thought to ensure that his family was safe, starting with his son. He crossed the floor in a number of long strides and arrived at Eldarion’s crib to see the child crying very loudly, his small body quivering while his face was red and wet from the tears that were his only means of expressing his distress.

"Find Arwen!" Aragorn ordered Legolas and the others as he attended his son.

The Prince of Mirkwood nodded briefly and swept into the adjoining rooms in search of the Queen, with Faramir and Pallando following close behind.

Aragorn wasted no time in spiriting Eldarion from his crib, holding his son in the manner that was becoming second nature to him after a week of practice. Aragorn held the little prince close to his body, allowing Eldarion to feel the beat of his heart as he cradled the child in his arms, soothing the infant with warmth and security. After a few seconds, Eldarion’s crying slowed and the child, though still unhappy was nowhere as displeased as he had been. Once his son had settled down, Aragorn hurried after the others, Eldarion still in his arms. At the moment, the situation was still too uncertain for Aragorn to trust letting the infant out of his sight.

"ARAGORN!" Legolas fairly screamed and the panic in the elf’s voice made the king break into a run, not at all an easy feat when he was carrying a week old child in his arms. However, Legolas’ cry told him that the situation was dire for Aragorn knew of nothing that could shatter Legolas' calm so completely. He ran through rooms, past the bedchamber and into the parlor where he and Arwen entertained their friends in less formal occasions. The parlor emptied into a terrace beyond which was the king’s private gardens.


Aragorn stepped out into the paved area and slowed immediately, his eyes taking in the scene that had driven Legolas to such a state of panic. Melia was lying at the foot of the wall, there was blood smeared across her face and some of it had stained her lips. Legolas was at her side trying to rouse her but she was unmoving. Further into the gardens, Faramir had found Eowyn who was in a similar state. The Lady of Ithilien was lying on her side and when Faramir turned her over, the unusual angle of her arm indicated that she had broken it. The side of her face was purple and bruised and she was similarly unconscious.

It was not lost upon him that Arwen was absent, however, Aragorn shunted the thought aside for the moment. There were more immediate concerns he had to tend to first before going in search of his wife, he saw the maid that had been at the door when he had entered the nursery, standing by the parlor doors to see if she could aid in any way.

"Sire," she asked nervously, "what is the matter?"

"Take the Prince," Aragorn crossed the floor to her and handed the infant to her. "See him settled in his bed, then I want you to gather a dozen guards to protect him and summon the royal physician, we have injured."

She nodded quickly and hurried away to the nursery with Eldarion while Aragorn hurried to the terrace again. He went first to Legolas because it appeared that Pallando was helping Faramir with Eowyn who did not seem as injured as Melia.

"Her breath is labored," Legolas stared at the king anxiously when Aragorn kneeled down next to them.

The prince knew a little about healing but his skill was mostly in the hunt, not in the healing. What he did[] know of the art was more for the treatment of his own kind, not a human though the physiologically they were almost identical in the flesh with subtle differences that had more to do with their spiritual creation then their physical one. Aragorn on the other hand, knew a great deal about healing and while he was no surgeon which was what he suspected Melia needed from the look of her, his skill could lend themselves considerably to her survival.


Aragorn immediately examined the unconscious Ranger. It was no wonder that Legolas was so frightened, something had slammed Melia into the wall with enough strength to dislocate her jaw, break several ribs, one of which he suspected had done damage to the organs it encased and fracture her hip bone where it had met stone. There was blood in her hair and Aragorn’s exploratory probe indicate that her skull had been split open with a nasty gash, explaining why she was still unconscious. However, it was the hoarse breathing that concerned him the most and was good reason for Legolas to fear.

"Is she going to die?" The elf asked, searching Aragorn’s face for any indication of hope against such a terrible outcome. He had resigned himself to the knowledge that marrying a mortal meant that someday he would lose her but he did not know if he could endure it if she died when they had been husband and wife for but a mere splinter of time.

"Not if she is helped immediately," Aragorn replied honestly, glad that he had the maid send for the surgeon when he did because Melia could not afford wait for very long. "I think when she broke her ribs, one of them speared her lung. That is why she bleeds at the mouth, her breathing passages are filling with blood."

"You mean she drowns in her own fluid?" Legolas’ stared at him in horror and then turned to the woman he loved.

"Yes," Aragorn nodded and was glad to see Nicos, the royal physician, hurrying into the parlor, a number of guards with him. Any more detail and it would only heightened Legolas’ panic. He was grateful that the Nicos’ arrival spared him from answering any more of Legolas’ questions.

"She bleeds inside Nicos," Aragorn informed the physician as soon as the Gondorian healer reached them. Nicos had attended Arwen throughout her pregnancy, having studied elvish medicine during his youth in Rivendell. When a patient was under his care, Nicos guarded them with the ferocity of a bear protecting its cubs and that was a sentiment that Aragorn, a healer in his own right, could appreciate. There was no one else in the whole of Gondor that Aragorn would have trusted with his wife’s health and now with the life of his best friend’s wife. "I believe that one of her broken ribs has impaled her lung."

"Then she must be tended immediately. You there," the slightly heavy and bearded healer looked at the guards with him. "Take the Lady Melia immediately to the House of Healing. She must be tended to with haste."

The guards wasted no time in carrying out the physician’s order, brushing past Nicos and Aragorn. Legolas was gently shunted aside as the guards lifted Melia from the ground where she lay. The elf Legolas was reluctant to let anyone take Melia out of his sight when she was in such a state but he knew that his friend would never let any harm befall her. He trusted Aragorn to know what was best for Melia and stepped aside to allow his wife to fall under the ministrations of the royal physician as he sent her to the House of Healing.

"I will go with her," Legolas said when they had carried Melia through the doors of the parlor.

"Stay for the moment," Aragorn placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder. "Let them do their best for her. If you go, you would only hinder their efforts. I know that you wish badly to be with her but you must desist, at least for a little while to let Nicos do his work."

Aragorn could see Legolas was torn between doing what was best for Melia and being at her side. The elf had been alive for three thousand years but it was the first time he had ever been in love with any woman enough to marry one. For once Legolas was faced with a situation that his long life had not prepared him for and though he had faced much in his time, he was not prepared for the possibility of losing her so soon after she had entered his heart. If any experience could ever ready a person for that kind of loss.

However, Legolas was if anything, highly resilient and he swallowed thickly after Aragorn had made his entreaty, realizing that he was probably of more use to everyone, if he remained where he was and helped to piece together what happened here. Legolas also remembered that Arwen was yet to be accounted for and knew that Aragorn himself was in grips of fear he would not reveal to anyone, because as king, he needed to remain strong and focussed. The elf did not envy him in that regard.

In the meantime, Aragorn had already made his way across the terrace to reach Faramir and Pallando. The wizard had enough skill to see Eowyn regaining consciousness a little. The Lord of Ithilien held his lady in his arms gently, carefully minding her broken arm as Pallando crushed some herbs in his mouth before placing the wet mulch against the gash on Eowyn’s forehead. Aragorn knew the procedure himself, having done it during the numerous times in his life when he had been confronted by injury. Athelas had soothing properties and it would lessen Eowyn’s discomfort until they had her moved to the House of Healing.

"How is she?" Aragorn asked as he and Legolas reached them.

"She has a broken arm and a nasty cut," Pallando answered. "However, she will recover."

"Eowyn," Faramir beseeched his wife as her eyes fluttered. "Speak to me lady, what happened here?"

That was a question that preyed heavily upon all their minds. The evil that Legolas had sensed was drawing away from them even if the repercussions of its presence were all around them. Arwen’s fate was the question of the hour and as Eowyn began to surface from her mental limbo, the elf could see Aragorn’s form tense with anticipation of answers regarding what kind of evil had the audacity to breach the king’s castle and steal his queen from right under his nose. The effrontery of it alone was enough to earn Aragorn’s utmost displeasure but stealing away Arwen was a provocation from which there would be no turning back.

Eowyn’s head was spinning but her memories returned soon enough, particularly the one immediately preceding her blackout and the urgency of the situation returned to her with full force and hastened her return to clarity. She suddenly tensed in Faramir’s arms and immediately heard his voice telling her that everything was all right, that she needed to take care for she was hurt. She could not deny him that point since the side of her body seemed to be experiencing intense pains, in particular her arm.

"Arwen," she managed to say. "That thing wanted Arwen."

"What thing?" Aragorn demanded, finding his voice upon hearing that revelation. "What thing wanted Arwen?"


"I do not know," Eowyn replied, "it went through Melia and I as if we were not there, interested only in Arwen."

"Did it harm her?" Aragorn asked softly, not knowing whether or not he wished to hear her answer. Seeing Melia and Eowyn’s injuries had inspired Aragorn’s utmost fear regarding Arwen’s condition. He did not want to think what the enemy would do to his wife if it had managed to sustain this level of hurt to two of the most formidable women he knew.

"I did not remain conscious long enough to see it do so but the creature was not alone," Eowyn replied softly as she fought to clarify the vague voice she had heard seconds before she had lapsed completely into her dark sleep. "Someone else was with the beast, a man perhaps. He said that I had his sword."


"His sword?" Faramir exclaimed puzzled. "We speak of your sword, the one that came from Turin?"

"He did not call it that," she groaned as she shifted position in her arms and found that this was not the best idea for it sent stabs of pain through her. "He called in Angachel. He said he made it for Thingol."

"Thingol of Doriath?" Legolas exclaimed, knowing the legends of the First Age and the elf lord who married Melian. "The sword carried by Thingol was made by Eol, the dark Elf."

"The dark elf?" Aragorn stared at him, never hearing of this tale before but then there were thousands of stories in elvish lore.

"It was said that he preferred the dark woods of Nan Elmoth instead of Doriath," Legolas explained, knowing this story well for Thranduil used to entertain him with the great legends of the past when he was still a child. Still, Legolas did not know whether this tale could be considered a great legend rather than a dark shadow of the past. "He might even have been kinsman to Celeborn. The Lord of East Lorien hails form Doriath. In any case, he was supposed to have been killed after murdering his wife Aredhel whom he had married by ensnaring. After she bore him a son, mother and son fled to the Hidden City of Gondolin where Eol followed. Once finding his way there, he was refused permission to leave so he chose death rather than to remain. He had intended on taking his son with him but unfortunately the poison he used as the instrument of death killed his wife."

"Turgon existed in the First Age!" Aragorn pointed out, his mind unable to accept that this could be the same elf. "This cannot be him surely."

"The sword of Turin was fashioned by no other," Pallando declared, knowing the history of Eol as well. "He was a great swordsman and something of a sorcerer."

"Aragorn is correct, we cannot be speaking of the same Eol," Legolas added his skepticism to the whole notion. Even if he did fashion the sword of Turn, Eol was cast down from Caragdûr. He was killed."

"Was he?" Pallando stared at them in question. "A sorcerer enough to ensnare Aredhel may have more power at his disposal then we know. I say we do not discount the possibility out of hand, not until we have more evidence."

Aragorn was more interested in facts then he was in conjecture since the former would be imperative if they were to retrieve Arwen. However, Eowyn had spoken of two abductors, not merely this being who may or may not be Eol. "What about the beast? The one that did this to both of you."

"I do not know what he was but Arwen sensed it coming just before we saw it," Eowyn replied, her strength starting to wane. "It was terrible. It was big, almost the size of a troll and yet it did not possess the ungainliness of such a creature. Its movements were stealthy, like it was accustomed to hunting prey. It had dark skin and face with tusks like a boar. It cast Melia aside with one swipe of its arm. If it had been any more forceful, it would have killed her."

Aragorn’s saw Legolas’ face tense with anger because the beast had very well near succeeded to that end but he listened as Eowyn continued her narration.

"When it hurt Melia, I took a blade to it. I swore I gave it a cut to remember but it looked at the wound as if it were nothing and even seemed amused that I drew its blood. I doubt it even saw me as a threat," Eowyn whispered, angered by her ineffectiveness for her defeat left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"What manner of creature is this?" Legolas asked for he had never heard anything of a beast like this.

"Whatever it is can wait," Faramir said slipping his arms under Eowyn’s body. "Do not speak further my love, you have given the king enough for the moment."

"I will live," Eowyn replied bravely as was in her nature to do so. Her courage despite her obvious pain only succeeded in engendering her husband’s affection for her to a greater height and made him more determined to see her treated.

"You will live lady," Aragorn replied, brushing a hand across her cheek. "But I would see you in the House of Healing nevertheless, to hasten your recovery. Faramir, take your wife there and join us when you can. Legolas, if you wish to do the same for Melia, you may go though I think you should wait a little and allow Nicos to do what he can for your lady."

Legolas considered Aragorn’s offer briefly. He did wish to go to Melia’s side but Aragorn was right, Nicos needed to treat her injuries without his standing watch and he preferred his mind occupied while waiting to hear the outcome of his ministrations upon Melia. Waiting around to hear would only drive him to fret; it was best if he distracted himself by focussing his attention on aiding Aragorn with his search for the Evenstar.

"I will remain here for with you for the moment," Legolas answered. "If this beast took her, we will need to begin our search quickly, before it is allowed to gain too much ground."

"Thank you," Aragorn said gratefully, squeezing the elf’s shoulder to express his feelings.


"I will return soon," Faramir replied before hurrying away with Eowyn in his arms.

***************

After he had gone, Aragorn turned his attention to finding Arwen. All three spread out across the garden, going in separate directions to seek out tracks of any kind. Aragorn was reluctant to call his guard to aid him in this duty for they were not the trackers that he and Legolas were. Wizards had their own power and Aragorn was certain that if there were any sign of Arwen to find, one of them would locate it. Besides, calling out his guard to join the search may result in them unknowingly treading over vital tracks that might give him some idea of which road Arwen’s abductors had taken.

However, almost as soon as he began the hunt, he found that there was very little to find. Other than the immediate vicinity where they had found Melia and Eowyn in their unfortunate state, Aragorn saw no sign of tracks of those who had borne his wife away. The riddle in the grass was perplexing and he had not seen the like since the time when he, Legolas and Gimli had pursued Merry and Pippin across Rohan only to find that all signs of them had disappeared in Fangborn. Aragorn was certain that no Ent named Treebeard was responsible for Arwen’s disappearance but the lack of tracks was troubling because he had no idea where to continue his search.

He did not know how long he had scoured the gardens, trying to find some clue as to what route his wife had been taken when she was stolen from her home and her son. Aragorn tried not to let his fear for her safety cloud his judgement but it was difficult to remain so resolved when the subject was Arwen. When it came to the welfare his beloved Undomiel, he would never be quite so assured. She was the one thing that was able to penetrate the steel he had layered over his heart to be the man that destiny demanded and the notion that she could be lost to him was more than he could endure. Aragorn forced himself to crush the thought mercilessly for if he were to succumb to it; he would be of no use to her.

She would be in no position to fight her attacker, he thought as he finally exhausted all avenues of his search and was given little choice but to return to the terrace, in hopes that Legolas and the Istar had fared better in their efforts. She was still weak from birthing Eldarion and it worried him that this ordeal might tax her strength more than it should and do her serious harm. He was not lost to how much childbirth had effected her. Elves and children were things he had little experience with because elves had so few offspring. Perhaps it was the price of being so long lived that their ability to procreate was curtailed to ensure some balance in nature. Arwen was certainly weakened by the experience, even more so than most Gondorian women were. He hoped that whatever was happening to her would not make her exhaustion worse.


"This is most strange," Legolas declared upon seeing Aragorn returned, wearing a troubled expression on his face. "I could find no tracks, nothing that tells us where the Evenstar was taken."

"I am afraid that I have the same to report," Pallando confessed, "but there is sorcery afoot here, a very old kind."

"You think its Eol," Aragorn stared at the wizard, wishing he could understand what a supposedly dead elf wanted with his wife.

"I can tell you that I sense evil magic entwined in this and that the enemy has taken great care to hide where he is going to avoid any pursuit," Pallando explained. "He seeks to gain time before you pursue him."

"If he has an agent so powerful that he could simply swat the lady Eowyn and Melia aside like insects, why would he fear us finding him?" Legolas asked.

"I do not know," Aragorn shook his head. "He took Arwen but makes no effort to state his terms. If it is a ransom, then why does he not make his intentions known? If it was to harm my rule, why leave Eldarion? A queen is valuable only to her king and in the wake of her loss, she can be replaced. The heir to the kingdom is not. I do not understand the reasoning behind this. Eldarion was unprotected and yet he was not taken."

"Perhaps it was not to harm your rule or for a ransom," Pallando offered. "Perhaps it has little to do with you and everything to do with your wife."

"What do you mean?" Aragorn stared sharply at the Istar, not liking the direction of this discussion.

"I am told she is a great beauty," the wizard offered gently. "Perhaps what the abductor seeks is closer to the heart than it is to the pocket or to ambition. In the First Age, Eol acquired his wife Aredhel by ensnaring her when she dared to wander from the safety of the Hidden City. He took her by force and made her bear him a son. If this is indeed Eol that has taken your lady, then it is a pattern of behavior that is familiar to him for he is in the habit of stealing away women."

The implication of Arwen’s fate in light of Pallando’s revelation caused such a well of black fury inside the King of the Reunified Kingdom that for an instant he did not speak. A storm seemed to pass over his brow and settled into his eyes for the duration. His jaw set and he raised his chin slightly, his breath short and only Legolas, who knew him well, was aware of how much restraint he had placed over his emotions. It was many minutes before Aragorn spoke again and when he did, his voice was slow and smoldering with flame.

"I do not know if it is truly Eol who has taken Arwen but if he lays one hand upon her or dishonors her in any way, there will be no corner of this earth that he can hide where I will not find him."

Aragorn would not allow Arwen to be abused, as was her mother Celebrian. He had lived in the House of Elrond long enough to learn the terrible ordeal that the lady had befallen when she was captured and despoiled by Orcs. Though no one spoke the word rape, it was implied in every narration of the event he had heard and certainly no one dared say it in front of Elrond. Aragorn did not know what force had captured Arwen but he would not let her suffer such horror because she would surely not survive it. Her body was weak and still mending from bringing Eldarion into the world. The injury she would sustain if violated could very well be fatal.

"We will not let that happen," Legolas said knowing what dark thoughts were running through his mind. "We will find her. All of us."

Legolas spoke as if he knew something Aragorn did not and he turned his gaze towards the direction of the castle walls in time to reveal the arrival of a familiar face. Gimli appeared through the parlor doors onto the paved terrace immediately preceding the gardens where they were assembled. The dwarf paused briefly at the sight of blood on the stone floor but his bearded face did not hide his grave expression as he continued towards his friends.

"News reached me at the gates that there was trouble at the palace," Gimli announced. Although the main gates had been constructed leading to the White City, there was still much work needed to be undertaken before the mithrail structure could be truly considered completed and Gimli had remained in Minas Tirith to supervise.

"Arwen was taken," Legolas answered sparing Aragorn the trouble.

"Taken?" Gimli’s eyes widened. "How does that happen? This is the palace of the king, one does not simply walk through the soldiers and the walls surrounding this place and steal the queen."

"It happened here," Pallando muttered under his breath.

"And who is this?" Gimli asked, waiting for an answer from either Legolas or Aragorn as he kept Pallando locked under a merciless gaze of deep scrutiny.

"This is Pallando," Legolas answered tautly, in no mood for Gimli’s natural caustic manner. "He is the Istar I told you about. This, Pallando, is Master Gimli, one of the Fellowship and great practitioner of that mystery known as diplomacy."

"So you are the wizard," Gimli remarked, giving Legolas a look. "It is good to finally meet you. Legolas and Melia has told us much about your adventures in the north, speaking of which where is your better half?"

Legolas’ expression dropped slightly and Gimli realized that the bad tidings had yet to end, even with Arwen’s kidnapping.

"Melia was hurt badly," Pallando explained for Legolas whose expression grew strained for he was now forced to remember that his wife like Aragorn’s was also in danger. "She and the Lady of Ithilien attempted to battle Arwen’s abductors, but they were overcome. Melia and Eowyn now lay in the House of Healing. Melia lives but not before the enemy saw to it that she almost did not. The Lady Eowyn fares a little better and was able to give us some accurate intelligence."

"Your wife is strong Master Elf," Gimli said firmly, forcing Legolas to look him in the eyes. "She is almost as hardy as a dwarf. She will endure just to ensure that your life does not pass without her to vex it."

"I hope you are right," Legolas found himself saying and was filled with a great need to see his wife. Earlier on he had been compelled by friendship and a need to do something else other than wait for news of her welfare in the House of Healing, however, the desire to see her had become overwhelming. Since they were at something of a momentary stalemate in regards to what they ought to do, Legolas decided that he would go seek out Melia.

"Aragorn, I would take leave of you briefly. I must see how Melia fares," Legolas looked to the king.

Aragorn whose heart was growing heavier with fear at Arwen’s absence could not begrudge the elf that desire. "Go," he said gently. "If our situation alters, I will send for you. For now, see to Melia and give her our regards if she is in presence of mind to hear it."

Legolas nodded and hurried away, leaving the others behind. Once he was gone, Aragorn let out a heavy sigh. He had not wanted Legolas to see just how fearful he was for Arwen because the elf’s devotion would not have allowed him to leave the man’s side and Aragorn knew that the Lord of Eden Ardhon wanted badly to see his wife. However, now that Legolas was gone, the full torrent of his anguish showed in his face.

"I do not know where to search," Aragorn confessed finally. "She has been taken and I do not know where to begin. The enemy has spirited away leaving no clues as to where she has gone and each moment I linger here, trying to discern where she has been taken, is another moment she draws closer to peril I dare not imagine."

"I know it seems bleak now," Pallando found himself speaking, determined not to see the terrible worry in the king’s eyes become anguish if the worst was to happen to his beloved queen. "But you must not give up hope. We will do what we can and we will find her. The enemy is not so elusive that he can hide forever the jewel that is your Evenstar."

Aragorn wished dearly that he could believe Pallando’s words but he loved Arwen too much to be able to see anything good in a situation that had her separated from him. The king left his two companions without saying a word and stepped into the palace walls once more. They did not stop him because they knew his pain and felt he deserved his solitude in enduring it. Aragorn moved through the rooms he and Arwen occupied, forcing thoughts of their happy life as man and wife away from his mind as he passed through them. His destination came soon enough and he found himself in the nursery, where Eldarion lay in his crib.

For once, the infant was not sleeping. Eldarion lay in his crib, quiet but very much awake. He saw his father’s approach and though he did not know Aragorn as his father, had learnt that this was a presence from which comfort and warmth often came. His small heart quickened at the sensation of being lifted and held against his father’s chest. He did not understand love or any of the emotions that would make him so much his father’s son but he recognized the warm beating of the heart that held him.

Aragorn held his son small body in his large hands, drawing strength from the small life that relied upon him to keep it safe. The king blinked slowly, thinking about the wife who was not here and coming to the firm conclusion that if she was lost, then this child was all he would truly have of her. He was not ready to accept that.

"I promise you I will bring her home Eldarion," Aragorn whispered softly, aware that the words spoken were more for his comfort than the infant who did not understand anything he said, "I will bring her home for both of us."

**********

Minas Tirith should have been silent but by the time the sun set in the horizon, the city was no way descending into slumber. Throughout the White City, the search that Aragorn, Legolas and Pallando inspired in the gardens had now spread through the rest of Minas Tirith, with soldiers and local sheriffs taking part in the effort to find some clue as to where Arwen had been taken. The Queen of Gondor had been stolen right out of their city and for its people, there was no greater slight, for they loved their king and it was well known how much he adored his queen.

It was not to say that Minas Tirith was not similarly disposed towards Queen Arwen for since her arrival in the White City, she had been seen frequently among the people. While her husband’s thoughts were fixed upon the security of the Reunified Kingdom, Arwen’s attention had been placed upon the welfare of those who often did not have a voice in the community, women and children. She was a champion of causes and undertook many programs to ensure that life was improved in the wake of the terrible wars that had been fought. She was well loved by her people and the search that resulted as consequence of her disappearance was a reflection of this.

Aragorn remained in his throne room, listening to the sporadic reports that reached him from time to time, telling him that the search continued but nothing so far had been found of the queen or her abductors. While he had allowed the search to expand beyond the boundaries of the castle, Aragorn had more or less anticipated that nothing would be found. An enemy that would leave no tracks in his departure would not do the same in the city. Without being able to say for certain how he knew with such absolute belief, Aragorn knew that Arwen was no longer in Minas Tirith. She and her abductor were well away form here now.

Legolas had joined him a short while ago, after leaving the House of Healing with good news regarding Melia’s welfare. It would be a good while before she was on her feet again but Nicos had assured the Lord of Eden Ardhon that his wife would recover and that accounted for the light steps that Legolas took when entering Aragorn’s presence again. Faramir had also joined his king though he was unhappy that Eowyn was determined to leave her bed and follow him. Her arm had been placed in a sling and though she appeared slightly less than she normally was, she was nonetheless determined to take some part in the proceedings to find Arwen. Considering that she was the only one present when the abductors had come for the queen, Aragorn could not find it in his heart to deny that desire.

Gimli and Pallando had not left his side and while Gimli’s companionship was always welcomed, since the days of the Fellowship, Aragorn was surprised to find how comforting Pallando could be. He was not unlike Gandalf in some ways and yet very different in others. He did not appear to have all the answers as Gandalf often did and sometimes, conundrums appeared to affect him as much as the others. Aragorn thought that made him more approachable for wizards sometimes intimidated those who came across them. He did not doubt that if properly inspired Pallando could probably remind those who would took him for granted that he was a Maiar spirit. For most part, however, Pallando played the part of the benign old man.

The mood in the room was somber as Eowyn recounted with more clarity what had taken place when Arwen, Melia and her were beset upon by the mysterious beast and its master. Eowyn’s words were devoid of its usual flippancy and its sober tone told those in the room just how much she was shaken by what had happened. She spoke about the beast in hushed tones, calling it a monstrous creature in the mold of trolls but seemed far more sinister. Legolas listened to her clearly disturbed; Aragorn noticed and wondered what suspicion the elf had regarding the identity of the beast that was so terrible, he did not wish to confess it to anyone.

"I am sorry we were unable to stop them," Eowyn concluded her narration somberly as she sat on a chair with Faramir at her side, holding her uninjured hand.

"You fought bravely Eowyn," Aragorn said gently, knowing full well that she did because of the injuries sustained. "You and Melia have my gratitude for what you tried to do but the enemy rallied against you was too much even for women as formidable as you."

"Melia did not even make a move towards it," Eowyn replied, her jaw clenching with anger as she spoke through gritted teeth. "All she did was to get Arwen moving to safety and the beast swatted her aside as if she were nothing."

Legolas said nothing but Aragorn could see the fire burning within the elf lord’s eyes and knew that he was seething with unspoken fury. If Aragorn had found his wife in the state that Legolas had seen Melia when they had first entered the garden, he would be feeling the same fury that the elf did now. However, Aragorn had his own hate to nurture and would continue to do so until Arwen was found again.

Suddenly a herald stepped cautiously through the doorway of the throne room, reluctant to interrupt the king when his heart was so heavy. Aragorn knew his name as Darven and his eyes followed the man as he walked along the red carpet to the foot of the throne before bowing to Aragorn as was expected of one who was before his king.


"What news do you bring Darven?" Aragorn asked refusing to believe it could be good new, not when the man’s expression was devoid of any such hope.

"My lord, I am sorry to trouble you but the Queen’s kinsmen and his companion have arrived from East Lorien, they are determined to see you immediately on a matter of urgency."

Aragorn looked up immediately, his eyes exchanging a quick glance with those present. What fresh trouble was this? He wondered whom it was that had come to see him. Elladan he knew was travelling to Imladris having seen him some weeks ago when he passed through Minas Tirith during the journey westward. Could it be Celeborn? Had the Lord of East Lorien chosen to make a pilgrimage to Minas Tirith? Aragorn groaned inwardly for his timing could not be any worse. The king did not wish to tell her grandfather that Arwen had been stolen away from under the nose of her husband, from her very garden.

"Send them in immediately," he ordered.

"Could they have heard so soon?" Faramir asked once Darven had departed.

"It is not possible," Aragorn dismissed that possibility immediately, since he had considered it himself. "It must be coincidence."

"Too much of a coincidence," Gimli rumbled.

"I must agree with the dwarf," Pallando remarked. "There is something in this that tells me we are only seeing but the first act of larger drama."

"I did not think Celeborn could be convinced to leave East Lorien," Legolas remarked. "He is not one for travelling."

However, it soon appeared that Legolas was correct in his assertion regarding Celeborn for when the visitors entered the room it was not the Lord of East Lorien as they had thought but rather Elladan, Arwen’s older brother. With him was none other than Haldir. Both of them wore grave expressions and swept into the room like an ill wind.

"Elladan!" Aragorn exclaimed, unseating himself from his throne and striding towards the Prince of Imladris. "What are you doing here? I thought you were last on your way west?"

As Aragorn approached Elladan, he noted that healing bruises marked the prince’s fair skin. Elladan’s eyes were as hard and stone and beside him; Haldir appeared to be a carved image of marble, saying nothing. There was purpose emanating from them in powerful waves because there was none of the familiarity between himself and Elladan as the elf prince regarded him. Something had happened to him, Aragorn concluded.

Something terrible.

"Is it true?" Elladan demanded in his opening words to the king. "Has my sister been stolen out of her home, a week after she provided your kingdom with an heir?"

"Yes," Aragorn nodded slowly. "This afternoon."

"Do the race of men know anything about guarding royalty?" Haldir asked harshly.

"Mind your words elf," Faramir spoke immediately, "you speak to the King of Gondor. Respect is due."

"I speak to the husband of the Evenstar," Haldir retorted. "Who let his wife be stolen from him like a sack of rice."

"Silence Haldir!" Elladan barked suddenly, "you speak of my kinsmen. How did this happen?"

"There were two of them," Legolas explained as Aragorn turned away, unable to recount the tale once more. "One was a beast of terrible evil, I felt its presence the moment it approached. Its like was nothing I have felt before; my heart was struck cold by the threat of it. It breached the castle walls with no one even seeing it and it took Arwen but not before harming the lady Eowyn and almost killing my wife."

"Melia is harmed?" Haldir spoke up immediately.

The march warden and captain of Celeborn’s guard had met Melia during her journey through East Lorien with Legolas some months before. Although Haldir seldom had much patience with humans, he and Melia had struck up something of a friendship much to Legolas’ chagrin who knew Haldir’s reputation with women and did not like his regard towards someone the prince cared for so deeply.

"Enough to ensure that she will be recovering for a good while," Legolas replied, trying to curb his jealousy at Haldir’s interest and remembering that Melia considered him a friend.

Elladan did not speak for an instant but when Aragorn met his gaze, he saw that there was recognition in the eleven prince’s eyes as if what was said did not surprise him as much as it ought to.

"You know something," Aragorn declared almost accusing him. "You know something about this beast?"

"I may," Elladan nodded. "If it is the same creature. What did it look like?"

"Like darkness itself," Eowyn spoke since she was the only present qualified to answer his question. "Its skin was dark and its body big, bigger than Olog Hai, he was almost a cave troll but he was not ungainly, there was grace in his movements, a fluidity belonging to something that is accustomed to moving about in the shadows unseen. It carried a great sword and his legs were not like that of men but of a beast, a wolf perhaps. He stared at us with yellow eyes, like that belonging to a rabid animal and there were tusks coming out of his mouth, like a boar’s."

"Then it is the Hunter as Celeborn guessed," Haldir nodded.

Legolas turned pale where he stood, "the Hunter?"

"Yes," Elladan nodded. "I thought he was myth but he was not."

"He killed my brother," Haldir said bitterly, barely able to restrain his fury at the loss of his younger sibling, struck down so cruelly before he could reach the refuge that had spared Elladan’s life.

"Orophin is dead?" Legolas exclaimed, feeling his heart grow even heavier from this news. When the colony of elves had passed through Lorien on their way to Minas Tirith, Orophin who was inspired by the notion of seeing new lands asked to join the caravan and Legolas was only too happy to have the experience of a march warden in his new colony. During the course of their travels to South Ithilien, Orophin had become a friend and Legolas grieved his loss acutely.

"Killed by the Hunter before we reached the Golden Wood," Elladan said softly, the image of Orophin’s last moment’s burned into his memory.


"What is this Hunter?" Gimli demanded at last.

"A creature from the Ancient Times," Pallando spoke, best able to answer this question for the elves were so terrified even in the day when the Hunter had done its worst among them that they had shunted almost all memory of him into the deepest, darkest corners of their psyche. What they remembered of him was only the fear and the ability to recognize its approach.

"Like a Balrog?" Faramir asked, having studied the legends somewhat closely in his scholarly pursuits.

"No," Pallando shook his head. "The Hunter precedes the Balrog or the dragons or any of the foul creatures that Melkor created in pits of Angband. He was the first dark thing that Melkor had formed, a being whose only purpose was to serve his master. When Varda, the Lady of the Heavens illuminated the skies of Middle earth with starlight and brought into being the Quendi at the Mere of Cuivienen, the Hunter was there waiting for them. It was he who brought a handful of the newborn elves to the Dark Enemy Melkor, who tortured and mutilated them until they were turned into Orcs."

"Sweet Eru," Legolas whispered. "I had hoped I was wrong, that there was some other explanation but how could this be? We speak of a being who existed twenty thousand years ago, how could he still exist?"

"If a Balrog can survive in Moria then why cannot this dark creature?" Aragorn asked softly, feeling as if there was not enough air in the room. The thought that Arwen was in the hands of such a beast was beyond his ability to comprehend. If he had been frightened before, he was almost reduced to a state of panic because of what he now knew about her captor.

"Aragorn is right," Gimli replied. "But how do you know that this is [i]that Hunter?" He asked Elladan. "None of you has ever seen it before."

"It pursued Orophin and I across Middle earth," Elladan replied. "It knew all our craft, we moved with such stealth that no one would have been able to track and yet it found us, every single instance. I know it is the Hunter for it told me. It spoke of our kind having more spine then he remembered and how we screamed when we were brought to his master."

"Where has he been then?" Eowyn asked. "If this thing is as terrible as you say, where has it been since the First Age?"

"I do not know," Pallando spoke up. "This entire situation is all about impossibility. The Hunter disappeared in the First Age for I knew he did not take part in the War of the Wrath. Melkor had other agents at his side, Glaurung, the drakes and the Balrogs. The Hunter was never again mentioned."

"He was not alone," Aragorn reminded. "The Hunter came here with someone else, an elf."

"He has a master," Elladan spoke. "He told us as much but he did not say who. I find it hard to believe that an elf could be his master."

"His master claimed that he fashioned the sword of Turin," Aragorn replied. "If it was truly this Hunter who pursued you and abducted Arwen then there cannot be any doubt that the one we seek is Eol, this dark elf Legolas and Pallando speak of. For if the Hunter is here in our time, then we must concede that Eol can be as well."

"This is very strange," Gimli stared at them. "We have been through great upheavals in the past years. The foundations of Middle earth itself has been shaken by war, where have these two been hiding that we did not know of their existence and why emerge now? We have been more vulnerable then we are now."

"That is not all Aragorn," Elladan interjected. "The reason that the Hunter pursued us across the land was not due to any violence but a planned design."

"What do you mean?" Aragorn demanded, wondering if the situation could deteriorate any further. What new devilry was Elladan about to reveal? "What design do you speak of?"

"Imladris," Elladan answered. "I cannot find it."


"Excuse me?" The king declared in puzzlement. "What do you mean you cannot find it?"

"That is what I am trying to explain," Elladan said quickly. "As you recall when we last beheld each other, I was bound for Imladris with Orophin. We journeyed across the land without incident but as we near the valley where my father’s city awaits, the paths that I knew to take me home led me away from it instead of near. We spent two days trying to find our way through this strange barrier but we could not, if it were not for the appearance of the Hunter, we would still be attempting to reach it. When he chased us, the Hunter ensured that we could not find refuge in any settlement. He forced us away when we sought shelter. He ran us down as if we were game Aragorn! He ran us down until we were so weary we would have dropped from exhaustion."

"He did not wish anyone to know that he has taken Imladris," Faramir guessed. "He was trying to stop you both from reaching anyone to tell them your tale."

"Protecting his secret hiding place," Aragorn replied. "How did you escape?"

"We made for the Golden Wood," Elladan said softly, not looking at Haldir as he spoke. "I hoped that perhaps the Galadriel’s powers over her realm might have lingered enough to halt the Hunter’s relentless pursuit. We were almost finished, if we did not reach the wood it would not have mattered; we would not have been able to take another step. Orophin was behind me when I stepped into the wood, I turned and saw him. He was about to enter with me when the Hunter came."

"Must we relate the whole incident!" Haldir finally snapped, unable to endure hearing the conclusion of this tale. "The black beast killed my brother and left your kinsmen barely able to fend for himself. The Hunter claimed it had business elsewhere and now we know what that was. It was to come here and steal the Evenstar."

No one reproached Haldir’s discourtesy for they knew he was grieving over the loss of his brother and their hearts ached for his pain instead of hardening against him.


"Haldir and some of the elves of East Lorien were running an errand for Lord Celeborn when they found me," Elladan quietly resumed his tale. "As soon as I was strong enough and recovered from my trials, we made for Minas Tirith."

"So Eol has taken Imladris for himself," Pallando mused.

"It makes some sort of sense," Faramir remarked. "If he is indeed the same Eol that existed in the First Age and has chosen this time to make his appearance, he would most likely want a kingdom of his own. Imladris is the most well known of all the elven cities and since the departure of Elrond, not as populated. It would be easy if he was sufficiently powered by dark magic to take it."

"Then that is where we must go," Aragorn said firmly with a tone of voice that warned all those present that it would be ill advised to argue with him on this point.

"I will join your company if you will have me King," Pallando spoke up. "There is sorcery at work here and you may need my assistance."

"I do not think that we will be able to thwart this elf’s plans without you," Aragorn said grateful that Pallando had spared him asking for the wizard’s help, for he could think of no other way that they would penetrate Eol’s enchantment otherwise.

"I would go with you but I fear in my state, I am of little use to you," Eowyn sighed, wishing that she was able to ride with her husband to face this peril that awaited them in the city of Rivendell. However, she was realistic about her injuries and she would only hinder their progress reaching Arwen.

"You would have been of great value to us, my wife," Faramir gave her a warm look, glad for her understanding of the situation. "However I believe you are needed here to watch over Melia and Eldarion."

"Yes," Aragorn nodded, coming towards the Lady of Ithilien. "I trust my son into your hands lady, do not fail in keeping either of them safe. I place my faith in you."

Eowyn turned away from his gaze, never being able to endure Aragorn’s eyes for too long. Still in her heart was the affection she once held for him and though it was no longer love, she found herself still very susceptible to him. "I swear on my life that I will keep them safe."

Aragorn smiled faintly because he knew that he could not have trusted Eldarion to a more worthy guardian. "The rest of us," he swept his gaze at the faces around him. "We rest tonight. Tomorrow at first light, we ride for Imladris."


Chapter 4 - Illusions in the Dark

The first thought to form shape within Arwen’s mind when consciousness finally returned to her was the realisation that she was on a horse.

In her shock, she straightened immediately only to discover the warm arm draped around her waist previously beyond her notice had suddenly tightened its hold around her. The manner and intimacy in which she was held almost tricked her for an instant into believing that it was Estel holding her this way and that she had been found and they were returning home. However, when she looked over her shoulder at who held her, she knew that hope was nothing more than a flight of fancy for it was not Estel who had her in his grip but the stranger who had invaded her gardens and hurt her friends.

"Unhand me!" She demanded, attempting to squirm out of his grip to escape.

"Be still lady," he ordered smoothly, "I do not want you to fall."

"Let me go!" She struck him hard across the face and his shock at the attack allowed her enough leeway to break free of his grip and jump off the horse. Arwen landed in the soft dirt and found that she was on a rather unused path through a wood she did not recognize. Her feet were bare but she cared little of this as she began to run, determined to put enough distance between herself and her abductors before they recovered their senses to follow her. She ignored the pain in her abdomen as she left the trail into the flanking trees, hoping the forest would give her some protection against the criminals who had torn her from her home.

As adrenaline flooded her veins, more recollections return to her rapidly clearing mind. She was panting and not from the exertion when she remembered the blood she had seen coming from Melia’s lips when Arwen had reached her side during the attack. She looked almost dead. And Eowyn, that terrible beast had swept Eowyn aside like a brute would swipe at a small child. Please Eru, she prayed silently to herself, please let them be all right. However, her pleas did not reach Eru nor were they able to help her friends or herself when the creature that had waylaid them all, suddenly appeared before her.

Arwen froze in her tracks as she saw it standing before her, a look of amusement across its face at her terror upon seeing him. While her eyes were fixed upon him and the barrier of flesh he was before her, she heard the hooves of a horse approaching from behind and knew that her brief flight of freedom had ended. She let out an angry cry of frustration, feeling the fatigue in the body that was not yet fully healed from birthing Eldarion. Thoughts of her baby made her anguish deepen for she had remembered him crying before the darkness had claimed and she knew nothing until her awakening a short time ago.

"I like the spirited ones," the beast before said, his dark lips stretching across his face in a menacing smile. "They break so much better than the ones with no spine. When the first of you came out of the starlight, not many had spirit or spine. Your innocence was very tasty, I enjoyed feeding upon your kind them."

"What do you want from me?" Arwen cried out, unable to endure listening to his frightful words. There was something about how he spoke that removed any doubt from her mind that he was deceiving her. If he was that old, if he had seen the children of Iluvutar emerge from the first rays of Varda’s starlight across the heavens, then she knew who this beast was, though that knowledge only serve to deepen her fear of him

"I do not wish anything of you but my master does," he glanced over her shoulder and Arwen let out a heavy sigh as she followed his eyes and saw the rider dismount from the steed behind her.

He was the same elf that she had seen stride boldly into the garden, telling her that he was to be her knew lord and master just before he chanted some words that made her fall into a black sleep. There had been little time to observe him earlier but now there was nothing to do but study the enemy she had to escape if she ever wished to return to Estel and Eldarion again. As noted earlier, he was not much older than her father in physical appearance was but for elves, that was no gauge to discern one’s true age. His face was handsome but glacial and his eyes were terribly cold until he looked at her and then it seemed to warm like sunlight’s first emergence at dawn.

This disturbed Arwen more than anything else that had so far transpired.

"You are his master?" Arwen demanded, feeling her fury properly provoked now that it had focus. "What right do you have to take the Queen of Gondor from her husband and child."

"No right I suppose," he said quietly, "except that I love you and I believe you too good to be wasted on a mortal existence with a man who is beneath you."

"You are the only one is beneath me," Arwen hissed. "I demand that you return me home immediately!"

"I am taking you home," he replied, watching her fury as if it were the most magnificent sight in the world. "I am taking you to Imladris."

"Imladris?" Arwen stared at him in shock. The idea that this elf and that dark beast unleashed upon her father’s city sent shivers of fear through Arwen’s heart. "What have you to do with Imladris?"

"It is our home," he said in that maddeningly calm voice. "The place where we will establish our new kingdom."

"We will establish nothing together!" Arwen snapped. "I am already married and I have no wish for another! My husband will tear Middle earth apart in search of me, how dare you presume to take what is his!"

"How dare he presume to chain the loveliest flower in the world to the mundane existence of mortality. You should not be a star burned out in a short life span, you should live for all ages, a thing of beauty for one who can appreciate it until the end of time. You are an Eldar, Firstborn. You should not cover your skin with a man’s filth or be forced to carry his seed."

Arwen strode up to him and struck him across the face, her fury such that she did not care what the consequences were to her for that. The beast behind her sniggered and the elf before her stared at her audacity to strike him. His eyes flashed in anger as Arwen glared at him, unrepentant at her actions because no one spoke that way about her child.

"That seed is my[i] son," she said in a voice full of white flame. "You will not speak of him in that manner. I do not know what delusion has caught your mind that makes you believe that simply tearing me away from my family will allow me to be yours but it is just that, a delusion. I will never be yours. I have bound myself in heart and soul to my king, he is the only man that I have ever loved and I will have him or I will have no other."

"You will not have him," the elf said dispassionately, as if none of the words she had spoken so vehemently registered with him. "Your life with him and your son are things of the past. You will be mine and I will love and cherish you for all time and if it required that I must kill the king to gain the love and understanding of his queen, then that I am more than willing to accomplish it."

"Better than you have tried and failed," Arwen replied bravely but inwardly, she was a little shaken by the threat to Estel’s life though she did not show her abductor that.

"It was likely that they never had so great a prize to win until now," he reached for her hair and she shrunk back instinctively, refusing to allow him such an intimate gesture.

"You will come to enjoy my attentions after a time," he smiled at her, not all discouraged by the revulsion he saw in her eyes. Aredhel had been the same when he had first snared her beyond safety of her city, in time the Evenstar would accept her situation and forget the husband and child left behind. After all, they had all the time in the world and the King and prince that she longed for so much would be spent in a century or so.

If anything Eol knew the virtue of patience.

************

 Legolas knew he should be sleeping but he could not allow himself to rest when in a matter of hours, he would be leaving Minas Tirith for Imladris while his wife, lay injured in one of the many rooms within the House of Healing. It had been countless hours since she had fallen prey to a healer’s ministrations and though he had been assured by the royal physician that she would live, he could not be so certain when he looked upon her so battered and bruised. She slept still and he could hear her soft breathing, almost like that of a bird’s for her weakened state. It was the only sign that he could see that she was still alive.

The side of her face was swollen and thankfully, Nicos had explained that her jaw had not been broken as Aragorn thought but badly bruised where she had landed so forcefully against stone. Much of her was covered under the sheet but he knew what pains lay beneath it and wished he was heart was not so torn at having to leave her. Yet he knew his lady well and were she awake enough to speak, she would be rebuking him for even contemplating remaining with her when Aragorn and Arwen needed him so. It was with this knowledge that he knew his mind when the sun rose over the new day.

However, in the quiet hours of the present, that decision did not seem so simple.

The choice he had made to wed a mortal plagued him most during instances such as this, when his thoughts were laid bared and he could not hide from them. He loved her without thought or care as to what would happen when she was gone but there were moments, when the fear of her ending too soon like now, would reach up and shake the foundations of that self assuredness like a cave troll swinging a hammer against rock. He knew he was not prepared to lose her, no matter what he told himself. Seeing injured and bleeding had driven home how fragile she was in comparison to him, how easy it was for her life to be cut short before they even had a mortal life span together. He wondered how Arwen could stand it, knowing that she would most likely see Aragorn buried first before the choice she had made ended her mortality as well.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face and felt her stir a little at his touch. He retrieved his hand, not wishing to wake her for she had been through an ordeal and had no wish to deprive her of her rest even though her reaction to his touch had done a great deal for his fears regarding her recovery. His heart almost skipped a beat when her eyes fluttered open and she turned a dazed eye upon him.


"Prince," she whispered, her voice escaping her as little more than a croak.


"You should not speak," he said gently. "You are not well."

"You are the one who is unwell if you think you can silence me," she replied weakly after a pause, reminding him all over again, why he adored her so much. "Where am I?’

"You are in the House of Healing," he explained. "You were hurt."

"Well that accounts for why I feel as I do," she offered him a wry smile though it was not managed well with her swollen cheek. "It took Arwen, did it not?"

Legolas could not lie to her and so he nodded in response. "At first light, we ride to retrieve her."

Melia absorbed this and replied softly, "find her Prince. This beast that has hers is terrible indeed. I could not protect her but you and the others can."

"You fought well Mia," Legolas pressed a finger to her lips so she would not excite herself. He saw the wince of pain that crossed her lovely face when she did and would not see her cause herself any further discomfort. "We will not stop until we find her."

"Take care Prince," she reached for his cheek with her hand, possibly the only limb that did not ache and caressed his cheek. "I love you to much to endure knowing you have come to harm."

"I will ensure that no trouble befalls him lady," Haldir’s voice suddenly filled the room.

Legolas looked over his shoulder and saw the march warden of East Lorien standing at the door, watching the proceedings with an unfathomable expression on his face. Legolas stared at the elf wondering why he was here at this hour when Haldir, pre-empting his questions, spoke first.

"I did not mean to intrude, I could not sleep and thought I would pay a call upon your lady, to see how she fares," he explained. Much of the arrogance that was usually his trademark had faded away and though the smoldering anger at Orophin’s loss remained in Haldir’s eyes, it appeared clearly restrained for the time being.

"Haldir," Melia looked past her husband’s shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

"The Evenstar is kin to Lord Celeborn and he would see her returned safely I come on his behalf." The elf answered giving Legolas a firm look to support his story for he did not wish to explain to Melia the loss of Orophin because the pain was too new and it was difficult to speak of it.

"It is good to see you again," Melia smiled weakly, "though I am in not much condition to receive you."

"You are alive and well, that is enough," Haldir replied sincerely, enjoying the company of the woman immensely for it they were anything but the people they were, they might shared something more in another reality. However, since that was not to be, they remained friends, much to the annoyance of Mirkwood’s prince, Haldir was certain.

"She needs her rest," Legolas said after a moment, disliking the obvious affection between Melia and Haldir, even if that emotion was mere friendship. There was too much history between himself and Haldir, none of which he wished to delve too deeply into for fear of opening old wounds which had no place in their present situation.

"I understand," Haldir smiled, and took the hand that had only moments ago touched Legolas’ cheek. "Rest well lady, I look forward to seeing you again when this is all done."


"As do I," Melia replied softly, what strength she had amassed during her sleep was now waning swiftly and she felt once again drowsy and exhausted. "Take care of yourself and my prince."

Haldir met Legolas’ gaze and noted the elven prince bristling in annoyance at the request but Legolas said nothing and Haldir allowed himself a little feeling of amusement, knowing that once again he had managed to burrow under Legolas’ self righteous skin a little.

"I shall do both," he answered her. "Now you should rest," he said gently before withdrawing from the room to give husband and wife some privacy before the dawn came.

Legolas watched Haldir go and then saw Melia looking at him with a little smile. Her eyes fluttered lazily and he could tell that it would not be long before she would lapse into her sleep again. He lowered his lips to her forehead and planted a soft kiss upon her skin.

"You would vex me even from your sick bed," Legolas remarked as he gazed lovingly into her eyes.

"He is arrogant but only because he is so certain in his ability," Melia whispered, closing her eyes as she felt the exhaustion beginning to claim her. "I know that if I asked it of him he would keep you safe."

"Thank you for concern," he said softly. "Now you must rest and I promise I shall return to you safe and sound, even with Haldir as my protector."

She did not protest for when he looked at her again, she had drifted into sleep once more and Legolas took her hand in his and brushed his lips against the soft skin. For a long moment, he held it within his own, offering a silent pray of thanks to the Valar and Iluvatar for allowing him the comfort of knowing she would be waiting when he returned from their quest to find Arwen. When that moment of silence had passed, Legolas Greenleaf released his wife’s hand and left the room. His heart’s affairs had been attended to, now it was to see to the needs of the only other woman in the world for whom he cared as much.


It was time to rescue the Evenstar.

*************

 

The company of travelers rose early the next morning to begin their journey to Imladris.

They gathered astride their horses, preparing to ride immediately from Minas Tirith. Without knowing how the enemy was returning to Imladris since Eol and his agent had left no discernible way for Aragorn to guess how they had departed the palace, the king was determined to make haste in reaching the elven city of Elrond. While journeying down the Anduin to Lothlorien would have been the simpler course, Aragorn had no wish to be delayed whilst crossing the Misty Mountain or Hithaeglir, as it was known to the elves. They were deep into the season of autumn and crossing the range of mountains so close to winter would be a long and arduous journey, which would delay them greatly. It was far simpler for to travel by land across Anorien to the Gap of Rohan, avoiding the mountain route altogether.

At Edoras they could shelter with Eomer briefly before resuming their journey through Dunland and travelling the relatively flats plains that ran parallel along the Misty Mountains. Though it would meant their route was longer, ultimately it was the better course since the terrain was easy to cross and they could manage it without possibility of hindrance by weather or any of the threats that were known to inhabit the mountains. Aragorn hoped that the space of day did not mean the difference between life and ruin for his beloved Undomiel. Secretly what he feared most though he revealed this to no one was the possibility that perhaps Eol had some magic at his disposal that would allow him to make the crossing to Imladris far swifter than the company were capable of maintaining their pursuit.

Aragorn had reasoned that while Eol was in transit with Arwen, her honor and her life were safe. She had just birthed a child and would be in hardly any state to accept him should he attempt to force himself upon her. If it were just a warm body that Eol wanted, then he could have satisfied himself with any woman but it was specifically Arwen that he sought and Aragorn believed this preference would induce the dark elf to take some care with his newly acquired prize. However, once they arrived at Imladris, Aragorn had no illusions that Eol would squander any time ensuring that Arwen became bound to him and the king was certain the enemy would violate her to do it.

The Company was silent following their immediate departure from the White City.

Aragorn had not slept well the night before even though he had tried to sleep. He knew that the lack of slumber would take his toll upon him the next day when his journey began but he did not care. How could he sleep when his Undomiel was who knew what indignity at the hands of her captor? Even though he had forced himself to crush such dark thoughts, Aragorn could not help their emergence from time to time, especially when they were faced with an enemy whose pattern of abducting women was so well known.

A few short hours before dawn he had finally given up hope of sleeping and went instead to the nursery where his son lay sleeping. How fortunate Eldarion was in his slumber, his father had thought when he took the child from his cradle and nestled himself into the chair that Arwen used when she nursed the babe. The emptiness left behind by Arwen in their chambers was never more acute than at the moment and the only thing Aragorn could do to console himself was to be with the son they had made together. Eldarion paid little attention to his father’s musing and Aragorn had remembered how soothing it was to hold his son for very soon he found his eyelids grew heavy and the sleep he tried so hard to achieve finally overcame him. Now as they journeyed toward Imladris, leaving Eldarion behind, Aragorn could only hope that he would sleep as well without his son.

Legolas’ thoughts were not fixed upon Melia even though his heart was filled with concern about her welfare. His thoughts were centered on the beast that had harmed her and Eowyn. Though none of the elves had spoken of it to each other, there was a feeling of common dread between them as they rode to face a most ancient enemy. As children they had all been told the tales of the Hunter, the dark shadowy thing that had come out of the darkness to steal members of their newborn race for his master, the Dark Enemy Melkor. The Hunter inspired their most basic fear and was it was a shadow so mired in their primitive instincts that it was difficult to ignore. Yet Legolas knew they had to face those ancient terrors or else they would never be able to defeat him.

For Elladan, his mind had not shifted beyond the moment he had seen Orophin die. In all his life he had never felt that useless or impotent as when he had stood by and saw his friend cleaved in two before him. Orophin’s astonished expression a split second before his body was torn apart had been branded into Elladan’s psyche and the rage coursing through the heart of the elven prince was indescribable. It tormented him that he should be as angry that the Hunter was Eol’s agent and that he had aid in the capture of his sister, Arwen but Orophin’s death had superseded even that.

He wished Elrohir were here so that he could confide to his twin this anguish he felt. Unfortunately, it would be many days before Elrohir was able to join them, if at all. When he and Haldir had left the Golden Wood together, a messenger had been dispatched to Eden Ardhon, to tell his twin brother that some sorcery had befallen Imladris and to instruct Elrohir to join him in Minas Tirith. With what they had since learnt about Arwen in the White City, Elrohir would arrive to find that his brother had already left for Imladris. Hopefully, he would not be too far behind to catch up with them for Elladan longed to see his brother again.

Of course, Haldir could not look to the comfort of a brother’s late arrival because for him, it was too late. Nothing had been able to drive Haldir from the sight of his lord, not even the departure of Galadriel into the Undying Lands. For more years than he could remember, he had always stood at Celeborn’s side with his two brothers Rumli and Orophin who was the youngest. Rumli had wanted to accompany him to Minas Tirith but Haldir had told him to return to East Lorien to tell their Lord why Haldir had taken leave of him. In truth, Haldir had sworn to kill the beast that had taken his youngest brother but he was unprepared to risk his surviving sibling by having Rumli accompany him on this quest.

And Haldir intended to kill the beast known as the Hunter or die trying.

Since his youth when Denethor had allowed Gandalf the Grey access to the old records of Gondor, Faramir had learnt to place a good deal of faith in the knowledge of books. Gandalf had been reluctant to help Faramir with this exploration, out of fear perhaps that the young man might stumble upon the knowledge of Isildur’s Bane that Gandalf himself was so obsessed with studying. However, while Faramir did learn about Isildur’s Bane or the One Ring as most called it, he was never taken in by its spell but the love of books was another matter entirely. While his brother Boromir often went off to carry out great deeds, Faramir remained with Gondor’s collection of forgotten books, filling his mind with wisdom enough to prevail against the lure of the One Ring. Of course, he never really knew this until encountering the Ringbearer during his journey to Mordor.

As he rode now to face evils he had read of only in books, Faramir wondered what Boromir would say to all this. Boromir had often told him that knowledge was so much more useful than all the great deeds and while his father thought little of Faramir’s interest, Boromir did everything to encourage it. Though Faramir was no less courageous and had distinguished himself as a Ranger of Ithilien, he was not blind to the fact that his father’s favor rested clearly with his older brother but it did not matter when that brother loved him as much as Boromir did.

Now, more than anyone, save perhaps the Pallando who probably knew more about the histories of the past then any book alive, Faramir knew what it was they were going to face and he perceived the trouble that plagued Legolas at present. How would the elves be when they faced so primeval a threat? Was the stag supposed to draw strength from wisdom and fight the wolf? Faramir wondered if men, who did not fear this beast, could be strong enough to kill it and what of Eol, himself? How had he pierced through two ages to find himself in the present? What sorcery was this and could Pallando be strong enough to combat it? If it were Gandalf, Faramir would not be so worried but Pallando was an unknown, despite Legolas’ endorsement.

Pallando was too busy thinking about spells to consider that he might be viewed with a certain amount of skepticism by the company he now found himself a part. For so long, he had walked the path alone, even before leaving Alatar behind. The two of them had been such close companions that there was no need of any other and though there was emptiness when they had finally taken divergent paths in their destiny, Pallando had become accustomed to being alone. This business of travelling with so many was a little disconcerting because they expected him to be like Olorin and he was not. When they arrived at Imladris, they expected him to combat Eol and if the truth were known, Pallando was still trying to understand how Eol could still be alive after all this time.

Eol had managed to survive the War of the Wrath and the destruction of Beleriand when he should not have even survived the fall from Caragadur? How had he managed it? Pallando knew he had some form of dark magic under his control for he had snared Aredhel in such a manner but was that merely the barest use of his powers? Had he delved into magic so dark that it had made him survive all the calamities of the past to besiege them here in the future? How does one cloak an entire city? Only Melian and her girdle were capable of that feat? Had Eol tapped into that power? Somehow, Pallando did not think he was that powerful but then he was here and with him was a creature that had no place being in this time. As they journeyed away from Minas Tirith, Pallando was gripped with an urgency to find out or else they would never reach Arwen or worse yet, leave Imladris alive.

Gimli was rather wondering how he came to be surrounded by so many elves for he still remembered the times when he had difficult tolerating Legolas on any level. Now he seemed surrounded by them, particularly the elf called Haldir whom Gimli still bore ill from his time in Lothlorien when he had first beheld the Lady of the Wood. This business of dark elves was something the dwarf had no wish to be party to but the Queen of Gondor was dear to Aragorn’s heart and so he was compelled to journey with him on this quest. Still Gimli could not deny that the company felt odd without the little hobbits and the grey wizard Gandalf or Tharkun, as he was known the dwarves.

Still it reminded Gimli that thought the quest of the Ring was done and some of their number had scattered, it appeared that there would always be need of the Fellowship.

Even if it was peopled with too many elves.

************

 

When the sun had set that night, the company had come far in a day’s journey. The night was chilled the frozen air sweeping down from the lofty White Mountains and though will alone could drive them further, Aragorn had decided that it was best not to push themselves when they had no idea what awaited them when they arrived at Imladris. Finding themselves a suitable place to camp, Legolas volunteered the duty of scouting the immediate vicinity to ensure that there was no danger surrounding the place they had chosen for themselves this evening. The forest seemed harmless enough and Legolas had no sense of danger but the greater threats were often the ones that knew how to remain hidden until it was time to strike.

When Haldir offered to join him in his reconnaissance, Legolas had almost refused the offer until he remembered what Haldir had promised Melia and found that he had no choice but to accept. However, when they departed the campsite, it was obvious that Haldir’s intention was an excuse to leave the rest of the party so that he could indulge his own private thoughts. With a hint of shame, Legolas was reminded that the elf had just lost a brother and was probably still in some measure of shock and grief that he had yet to fully address.

It was not easy to know Haldir, even after three millennia of existence. The Prince of Mirkwood had spent enough time in Lothlorien to acquaint himself with the elf who was march warden and the captain of the guard in the Golden Wood. Legolas found Haldir to be arrogant and superior, even for an elf and his manners towards those who were not of the Eldar was positively shocking, not to mention his tendency to bed every elven female he came across and was his sickening pride in it. Legolas had more than a few confrontations with the elf in the past about such encounters, when the object of his fleeting passion had come to the prince in tears, usually after being discarded or when Legolas had to prevent a jilted suitor from taking it out of Haldir’s hide. He would have been inclined to let them have their way if he did not know for a fact that Haldir was more than capable of defending himself against such incidents.

Once they had scoured the area and ensured nothing was amiss, the two elves turned towards the direction of their camp. They could see it in the distance, a small flicker of amber fire to which they were drawn like moths to the flame. They had said little to each other since setting out on this scouting expedition and the silence between them was like a great chasm that could not be bridged. Haldir had remained unusually quiet, a far cry from his usual arid persona. Legolas supposed he was deep in thought about the brother he had lost and felt a good deal of empathy though not in the same degree to the loss of Orophin who had been his friend.

"I am sorry about Orophin," Legolas finally found himself saying.

Haldir gave him a sidelong glance. "He knew what he risked when he left the Golden Wood and his brothers."

Legolas sighed, wishing for once Haldir would make things simple by not being so caustic. "No one deserved what fate befell him."

"No," Haldir added after awhile. "Probably not."


"He did enjoy being in South Ithilien," Legolas replied, attempting to offer Haldir some insight into his brother’s last months in this world. "Cleaning the wood of Orcs was almost a passion. I think they feared him more than any other elf in Eden Ardhon."

"He was never satisfied with what he had," Haldir found himself answering, though initially he had no desire to speak of anyone his feelings regarding Orophin’s passing. "He always wanted to see more of the world, for all the good it did him."

"Haldir, he was happy," Legolas declared. "He made a choice that brought him great joy. Do not berate him for the sins of others. He did nothing to incur the events that led to the loss of his life."

Haldir felt silent again as the light from their encampment loomed brighter in the distance. For a few minutes after, he did not speak and Legolas respected his need for quiet.

"I am surprised you married her," Haldir replied after a moment.

There was no need to clarify the intent behind that statement because Legolas knew perfectly well what he was referring to. "I love her, there was no choice to make under such circumstances."

"You always appeared so proper and beholding the conventions of our race," the march warden declared. "I thought marriage to a mortal would be beneath you."


The Prince of Mirkwood stared at Haldir and asked slowly, "do you think she is beneath me?"

"She is not but that is hardly the question I am putting forward, she is mortal." Haldir stared at him.

"I am aware of that," Legolas said stiffly because this was one subject he had no wish to discuss with anyone, least of Haldir.

"Then you know that she will…"

"Yes," Legolas stopped and stared at him. "I know. Its has been made known to me by everyone who realizes that we are husband and wife. I am painfully aware that our time together is short."

"You surprise me Prince," Haldir looked at him. "After living so long and seeing the things we have, I did not think it was entirely possible to be surprised."

Legolas did not know how to respond to that but thankfully he was not required to as they were within reach of the camp and the moment was lost which suited both well enough.

**************

At forest leagues away from where the company were presently taking both repast and repose, Eol watched his new prize sleep. Once they were under way following her ill-fated attempt at escape, she proved to be less subdued as the day progressed. They made good time in their journey to Imladris and he suspected that the business of childbirth had taxed her strength considerably despite her earlier defiance. The Hunter claimed it could sense her weakness, the way it could sense prey that was wounded or lamed in the chase. Elven women did not recover quickly after childbirth and Arwen, who had produced a human child, was far more susceptible to this condition than she should.

Once again, Eol wondered what had been in her father’s mind to allow such a marriage. How could one allow such a flower, as this to breed near a marshland that would kill the beauty from it by proximity alone? Eol had never met Elrond and he cared even less for the king who had claimed the Evenstar for his own however, Eol was determined that she would be freed of the spell that kept her bound to her mortal husband.

"They are coming," the Hunter spoke as he emerged from the shadows. The creature disappeared into the darkness when Eol had no need of it, slipping into a realm the elf was certain was a shadow world that the Maiar Sauron had used to such good effect when creating his Nazgul. While those creations were a living embodiment of the shadow world, the Hunter was able to slip in and out of one, to appear invisible at times. It made for a very effective weapon against its prey.

"I supposed they would," Eol gazed upon his prize. "I would not be so quick to surrender such a beauty if it were my bride."

"We should leave now," the beast warned. Its tremor of a voice sounded troubled.

"She is not fit to travel so soon," Eol answered as if this was no matter for debate and that his decision stood.

"Her mate is determined. I can sense his power. He is coming for her." The Hunter stated just as plainly.

Eol wanted to question how the Hunter knew this so clearly but supposed it hardly mattered for the beast would not make such a warming frivolously. Since bringing it forth through time, the Hunter had revealed many aspects of itself that was useful but Eol could not deny that the fear of it ingrained in all elves forced him to keep the beast at arm’s length. It was enough that he knew he had the Hunter’s loyalty, there was no need for their relationship to become any more personal then that.

"She cannot travel. Bearing his offspring has weakened her. I should have waited until she was stronger to take her," Eol reflected but it was a deed done and there was no changing it.

"Do you wish her to see me kill him when he catches up to us?" The Hunter hissed softly, his malevolent gazed fixed upon Eol. "If you wish her to see me rend her husband from limb to limb, I can accommodate you easily enough, it matters little to me but if you wish to have her as yours, then heed my warning. You should leave now and take care to avoid this eventuality or one day, you will find her knife at your throat."

"I may find it as such any way," Eol shrugged, aware that his courtship of Arwen would be anything but smooth but it had been the same way with Aredhel, once she understood the nature of her choices which were not many in the final analysis. "However, your words have wisdom and I do not wish to incite her animosity any more than necessary for the time being. I do not wish anything to interfere with our arrival to Imladris. "

"Shall I fall behind and deal with him?" The Hunter asked, preferring to hunt fresh game instead of acting as bodyguard to this elf and his lady.

"No," Eol shook his head, denying his servant that pleasure for the time being. "I wish you to remain with us. This land is new to me and I prefer you to remain in case we encounter anything unexpected."


"As you wish," the Hunter replied unhappily but loyalty to its master conditioned it to obey nonetheless.

It was created first from the pits of Angband long before Melkor had thought to create the other denizens of his dark kingdom, such as the great spiders and the dragons. The Hunter was darkness and fear given form but Melkor had seen to it that it would never be greater than its master by instilling within its nature, an insatiable need to serve. He had learnt his lesson from Ungoliant. Thus, when Eol had pulled the Hunter from the past and explained that Melkor and all that he knew was gone, it had found serving the dark elf to suit his thirst for the hunt and his need to serve. While the thought of playing servant to an elf might seemed odious to a creature who once used to hunt the Eldar for sport, the elf had shown the Hunter that he had power of his own and it was to be feared.

"How will you deal with the company that follows us?"

Eol did not answer but the flicker of the fire illuminated his face with a sinister smile.

**********

For the second night since Arwen had been taken from him, Aragorn did not sleep.

He sat up watching the fire, occasionally shifting his gaze from the dance of flame to the scan the landscape for any sign of trouble. All around him was still. There was no trace of wind, not even the wisp of breeze. The wood was silent with the occasional hoot of an owl and the chirp of a cricket to remind them that the dark around them was the forest. The fire illuminated the faces of his friends and he saw his friends asleep in their sleeping place, even the elves and their curious version of it. The light snoring sound rumbling through the campsite did not bother anyone though if Aragorn were truly in need of sleep, he would be smothering Gimli with his cloak by now. It was a wonder that Faramir and Pallando had not resorted to such violence already.

Nonetheless, despite the snoring, Aragorn knew that he would have to sleep himself for he would be no good to the company if he were exhausted when they resumed their journey to Imladris. He lowered himself to the ground and was about to lie upon his bedroll when he saw something shimmering through the darkness of the trees. At first he thought that it might have been caused by his weariness, for in moments of fatigue, the eyes were known to play tricks on the mind. However, as he caught sight of it again, he knew it was no phantom. Yet, something in him was still unsure and he did not rouse the others in the event that he was wrong. Taking his sword, Aragorn left the campsite, following the shimmer of light as it moved through the woods.

He had traveled only a short distance away from the company when the gleam of moonlight illuminated the path the phantom was taking and he was treated to the sight of a woman. For a moment, he swore it was Arwen though his mind told him that it was merely a deluded hope on his part. Wondering why she was alone, he hastened his pace to catch up with her. It was never wise for a lady to travel alone in the wild and at such a late hour when there were strangers about who intentions might well be hostile for all she knew of them.

She slipped into a clearing surrounded by tall trees and paused in the center of a dirt mound, her white dress brushing the soil and becoming covered in earth. As Aragorn approached her, he realized why she had appeared so much like Arwen because her hair was long and dark, her skin shimmering with light and her eyes were the color of the sea. She gazed at him with a smile and for an instant, Aragorn forgot that he was on a quest to find his wife because of the enchanting creature before him and the intoxicating smell she exuded when he took a breath of her.

"How do you come to be here lady?" he asked.

"A friend beseech me to find you," she whispered softly and hearing her voice was like being present when the Ainur had sung the songs that shaped the world.

"A friend?" He inquired further, a little dazed by the surreal nature of the unfolding events before him.


"Yes," she smiled. "An old friend. I thought he had forgotten me. I have been hiding here for so long and he told me that I should find you."

"Does this friend have a name?" Aragorn tried to break her gaze but he could not. His eyes seemed trapped in the sparkle of hers.

"None that would interest you," she smiled and held her ground as he took another step closer.

"I beg to differ," he answered, aware that something was amiss but he could not imagine what because the power of her eyes was entrancing. He had been caught like this when he first looked upon Undomiel and realized that he wanted more from his existence then to rule as Isildur’s heir. Standing so close to this enchanting woman in the middle of the wood, he felt as if he were standing in Imladris again for the first time, thinking he had wandered into a dream when all he had done was discovered the woman he would share his life with.

"I would tell you my name but I do not remember," she mused, her brow knotting in confusion. "No one has spoken to me in so long."

"Who are you lady?" He asked again, his suspicion surfacing once more and this time it was not so easy to disregard. She was standing very near to him now but the scent that was so intoxicating a brief moment ago had changed its flavor to something less pleasing. His mind had difficulty focusing but he thought the stench beneath her perfume was that of rotten leaves and drying mud. It was a scent that reeked decidedly of death.

Aragorn took a step back and suddenly those beautiful sea blue eyes flashed red like a blood moon and she lowered her head, spreading her arms. A cloud drifting across the moon created a shadow over her form and when it disappeared, her body burst into a swarm of insects, spreading out around him before they surged into the sky, creating a cloud above his head. Aragorn raised his sword to fight, useless gesture that it was against an enemy so small when he realized that it was not the swarm he had to worry about. A low snarl moved through the night and rippled across his skin in a shudder.

The king’s eyes left the demon swarm whose task was to lead him from the safety provided by his companions to the middle of the forest where he would be alone and ripe for attack. He saw their red eyes flashing in the night, their jaws gleaming from the moon’s bright gaze and knew that wolves surrounded him. He did not know how many of them there were but he was certain they were a full pack as they closed in on him. Raising Anduril, he prepared to fight while at the same time cursing himself a fool for falling to an enchantress’ trick. He wondered how much of what he had seen had been truth and not the product of his own mind, induced by his need for Arwen.

He had little time to ponder when the first wolf lunged at him. Aragorn swung his blade in a controlled arc, slashing through fur and bone and causing the animal to yelp in pain. However, its agony was a signal to the others to attack and Aragorn heard another growl, seconds before he felt claws tearing through his back as another member of the pack landed upon him. The creature’s weight forced Aragorn down to his hands and knees and there was a moment of clarity when he tried to throw the wolf off that he knew he would not do so in time. Jaws snapped shut and Aragorn let out a cry of pain as teeth sank into his shoulder, through his clothes, through his flesh.

The pain surged adrenaline through his veins and King of Gondor rolled forward hard, throwing the creature on his back over the top of his head but not before its teeth ripped the flesh it had bitten. The pain was beyond belief as warm blood ran down his skin and the scent of it sent the rest of the pack into a frenzy as the salt of his blood enflamed their senses. Groaning in pain Aragorn struck wildly at another attacking wolf, cutting it down before it could clamped its formidable teeth around his throat. He was outnumbered and he knew it but sheer will alone refused to let Aragorn let the beasts take him.

This was one meal they would have to earn.

A blur of fur and muscle moved through the air from his rear vision and Aragorn swung around, meeting the creature with his blade. A spray of red followed Anduril’s arc and he was washed with it when the sword tore open its flesh. The fluid stung his eyes and robbed him of sight briefly but enough to ensure that no more than a second had passed before he was toppled onto his back, a landing which brought with it fresh agony to his bloody wound. He held his sword between himself and his neck as the wolf that had downed him, intended to end the battle by tearing out his throat. As he fought to keep its jaws from him, Aragorn saw more flashes of red eyes and knew that the others were closing in for the kill.


After what seemed an eternity, he threw the wolf off him. It landed on the grass not far from him but was unhurt. Scrambling to its feet, it began running again, a ball of fur and fury led by gnashing teeth. Aragorn waited until it jumped before he used Anduril as a spear and impaled the beast upon the long blade. The animal howled loudly in its final moments, blood running down the length of the weapon and soaking Aragorn’s hands. His chest was covered with striations from claw marks and Aragorn knew he was bleeding himself.

Two beasts converged upon him, preparing to attack simultaneously and Aragorn forced himself to his feet, preparing to act in order to keep himself from being torn to pieces by either. There were still many of them and he was wounded. The blood of their slain members and his own was creating a potent mix that reached them on an instinctive level and inspired their most frenzied blood lust. Unfortunately, he had not long to wait when they lunged at him, both at once. Aragorn dropped to his knees and scrambled along the dirt as the beasts collided in mid air. He crawled away from them on his hands and knees until he looked ahead and found himself staring into the face of a large black wolf, with silver in its pelt, inches away from him with fangs ready to snap close.

He would never use his sword in time, not before the beast tore the flesh from his skull. However Aragorn was not about to surrender and prepared to defend himself, however futile the effort was. The beast lunged forward and Aragorn retreated, struggling in his awkward position to raise his sword into a defensive position when suddenly, the creature let out a agonized cry and dropped heavily into the dirt, the shaft of an elven arrow protruding from his back. It was little more than a second later that he saw Legolas running out of the trees, halting long enough to pull another arrow from behind him to shoot again.

Another sharp howl drew his attention from the elven archer and Aragorn looked over his shoulder to see Haldir and Elladan, showing their mastery with a bow while Faramir and Gimli resorted to more direct methods of sword and hammer to dispatch or wound the rest of the pack. As the wolves saw their brethren falling prey to the newly arrived collection of men and elf, the pack chose to make a strategic withdrawal. Within minutes, those who had not died by the hand of the company were disappearing into the night.

Aragorn sat down heavily in the ground; his body gripped with pain from lacerations and the bite one of the beasts had taken out of him. He felt Pallando’s hand upon his shoulder a second later and saw the wizard staring down at him with concern. It was not long before Legolas and the others approached him once the danger was over.

"What were thinking straying away from the camp alone?" Legolas demanded first, the elven prince appeared both worried and angered at the same time.

"I saw a woman," Aragorn retorted fuming because he [i]did feel stupid for wandering off as he if he were a child unknowing in the ways of the forest. He was Ranger of the North and should have known better. In Legolas’ position, he would have been similarly furious if someone under his care had acted so foolishly.

"A woman?" Faramir exclaimed, looking about for any sign of the lady in question.

"She was not really a lady, she appeared as one. It was a spirit of some kind, no doubt one of Eol’s demon agents sent to lure me away from the camp in order to ambush me," Aragorn frowned, realizing how obvious it sounded now that he was describing it to someone else. How had he been so blind as to not see something so clear before he found himself in a situation that could have cost him his life?

"And it worked splendidly," Haldir retorted without sympathy. "Perhaps we should assign you a guardian to protect you from yourself."

"There will come a point Haldir," Aragorn stared at him with clear warning in his eyes. "Where even your ability to be useful to me and my sympathy towards you for the loss of your brother will wear my patience thin and I will make you account for your arrogance."

"Enough of this," Pallando interrupted before the situation deteriorated any further. "The king requires attention. We should return to camp. For future reference, I suggest that none of us wander alone. We see now how formidable our enemy is and what powers he has at his disposal that allow him to beguile one as sharp as Aragorn."

Haldir said nothing and soon turned away from the others to proceed back to camp with Elladan following close by.


"I suppose," Aragorn sighed as Pallando and Legolas helped him to his feet. "After all this, I will be able to sleep."

"Your ability to see the good in any situation is without peer," Legolas retorted, rolling his eyes, still annoyed at Aragorn’s foolish behavior in wandering off alone.

"You think so?" Faramir looked at them skeptically, attempting to diffuse the tension by some levity. "He still has to sleep through Gimli’s snoring."

"I do not snore," Gimli returned almost instantly, glowering at the Lord of Ithilien.

"Oh yes you do," Legolas added with a faint smile. "And I have elven hearing."

Gimli bristled before storming away muttering under his breath, "damn elves."


Chapter 5 - Edoras

It was of no great surprise to Eol when he learnt that Aragorn had survived the wolf attack that he had inspired.

In truth, the most that Eol had hoped from the ambush was for Aragorn to be harmed enough to be delayed in his pursuit of Arwen so that Eol could set in motion his overall plan for dealing with the King of Gondor. If Turgon had taught Eol one lesson that he had learnt without question, it was the danger of having a king’s wrath upon one’s head. To simply kill Aragorn was not enough. His people loved him dearly and he bound together a strong compendium of leaders throughout Middle earth who would see to it that his death was avenged no matter what the cost. Eol was not ready to face the complications of outright murder but he had no wish to be plagued by the King of Gondor’s determination to retrieve his wife.

What was required to rid himself of the king was decisive action, swift and final on a scale that would be remembered in the ages to the come and ensure that no one would dare to encroach his new kingdom in Imladris with acts of petty vengeance. Eol had arrived in Middle earth shortly after the departure of Elrond and had sufficient time to consolidate his resources once he ascertained that it was Arwen that he wanted. He had no ambitions of conquest but he was not about to endure the repercussions that came from taking Imladris and the Evenstar for his own. To that end, Eol had prepared carefully what was to be done and the actual abduction of Arwen was only the last piece of a plan he had been constructing meticulously for some time.

It appeared that the king was far hardier than Eol had initially thought, rather surprising considering he was one of the Edain and they were known for their fragility. However, it mattered little in the scheme of things because the king himself made it easier for Eol’s plans to be put into effect. Aragorn’s choice of companions had come as no surprise to Eol because he had studied his enemy in good stead prior to the abduction of Arwen and knew who would be at his side when it Aragorn rode to retrieve her. Eol knew of the strong friendship between the Fellowship, who now included the Edain Lord of Ithilien, taking up the place vacated by his deceased brother. The addition of Elladan had been sheer good fortune which he did not rebuke because with Elladan, would ultimately be Elrohir and with their elimination, his claim on Arwen would almost give him a legitimate right to Imladris. The march warden of East Lorien hardly warranted a thought but Eol felt some trepidation to a Maiar being involved in these affairs. Unfortunately, too much had been set in place to alter the plan because of this one complication and Eol resolved himself to keep close eye upon the wizard Pallando to ensure he did nothing to endanger Eol’s labors to this point.


Dispatching the Hunter with its instructions, Eol resumed their journey to Imladris with Arwen, ensuring that she remained unaware of his schemes. Their progress was slow and though he had thought it was her attempt to slow their return to her father’s home, Eol still remembered Aredhel’s state following the birth of their son Maeglin. It had taken her a long time to recover and she was not bearing a human child, which could be taxing on the delicate nature of elven reproduction. While he sensed nothing seriously amiss with Arwen, he could see their travel was sapping her strength. Refusing to allow anything to harm his prize, Eol ensure that they rested frequently.

He took it as a sign of her growing fatigue that she did not attempt to escape and Eol was grateful of this for he had no wish to discipline her if she continued to make such futile waste of her time and his. Until they reached Imladris, he did not consider either of them safe and would take no chances in losing possession of her while the Hunter had yet to rejoin them from putting into play his plans for Aragorn. After his servant had gone, he had remained at their encampment, watching her sleep while he contemplated his plans for their future.

"Why do you do this?" She asked softly, surprising him by her question. He had thought that she was asleep as she lay with her back to him. "Because I love you," Eol replied smoothly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The certainly of his voice unnerved Arwen despite her effort not to show it. "How can you love me?" She rolled onto her side so that she could look at him when they spoke. "You do not even know me." "I know enough to suit my purposes," Eol answered, glad that she had finally deign to speak to him. The extent of their communication since their flight from Minas Tirith had been limited to her cold stares and her claims of pride that her king would soon be along to deliver her from his clutches. "The rest will come later."

"Do you think that time will allow me to forget my love? Do you think that your patience will change my feelings for you in time?" Arwen questioned. "Do you not understand that I have bound myself to him willingly, at the price of my mortality? I made the choice long ago that I would rather live a short life with him than all of eternity without. You cannot break that bond between us."

Eol stared at her for a long time, saying little as if he were gathering his thoughts. Arwen prayed that perhaps she had made him understand that what lay between her and Estel could not be broken by any interloper, no matter how much time passed or how much he might wish otherwise.

"You will love me in the end," Eol answered finally crushing her hopes with one foul stroke, "because you will have no choice but to love me."

"You have not heard a word I have spoken," she shook her head in dismay and sadness at his lack of understanding. "I will never love you."

"Perhaps I will not have the kind of love that is true to the heart," he returned, unperturbed by her rejection. "But I will have you nonetheless. In the end, you will see that there is no other alternative but to choose me."

"That time will never come," Arwen said bitterly and turned away.


Eol waited until she had turned before he remarked with a little smile of satisfaction, "that time is coming sooner than you think."

************

 

Despite his injury, Aragorn was determined to resume their journey and continue they did through the plains of Anorien past the great range of the White Mountains towards Edoras. The attack by the wolves had made Aragorn doubly determined to reach Imladris and Arwen as well as succeeding in stoking the fires of the king’s rage to white hot intensity. It was a fire that did not subside within the king and as they continued for more days and nights then they could count through the wood and the plains, battling the cold winds that came down from the mountain to assault them frequently, it seemed to grow even more. Though no one dared say it out loud, they knew the reason for Aragorn’s single mindedness and while they shared his desire to make haste, none would admit to each other that it was a goal they simply may not be able to prevent.

Arwen had been in her captor’s power for many days now and the time alone with a creature like the Hunter did not frighten Aragorn as much as her being alone with Eol. When he questioned Faramir what he knew about that particular legend, the Prince of Ithilien had been reluctant to speak but eventually Faramir revealed the whole sordid story of Eol and Aredhel. The king listened to the tale of how Eol had left Doriath and found himself a home in the dark forest of Nan Elmoth where one day he spied upon Aredhel who had wandered out of her home of Gondolin. The Noldor elf maiden was then taken as Eol’s wife, presumably unwillingly for it explained her flight several years later where Eol’s pursuit had resulted in her murder and his being cast from Caragadur.

There was nothing new in the narration but the substance of it seemed to increase Aragorn’s urgent need to reach his queen. They all knew what frightened him so and in understanding his urgency, shared his desire to reach the elf with just as much haste as he. The longer they took to reach Arwen, the greater the chance her body will recover and Eol would feel it necessary to take her as his mate, to seal their unlawful marriage in a union of flesh, whether or not Arwen desired it. Like Aredhel, she would have little choice and Aragorn would not see her dishonored if it was in his power to prevent it.

As they approached Edoras and the court of King Eomer, Legolas however began to sense something disturbing that was shared by all the elves. Though they could not discern what the danger was, the others could feel it as well and it was a sensation that followed them throughout their journey through Anorien. Legolas was certain some ominous danger was lurking behind them but Elladan was convinced that it was not the Hunter for he had become accustomed to the beast’s presence after so many days of pursuit. Yet, the presence disturbed them though it seemed very far away and Legolas remembered the feeling he had been possessed with when the Fellowship had come upon the shores of Parth Galen, the lurking, sinister sensation that danger was growing, though not immediately obvious in its method.

As Roheryn took Aragorn to the elf that was astride his own horse, Arod, the king of Gondor could tell that Legolas’ thoughts were far from the path they were currently travelling. The Prince of Mirkwood and Eden Ardhon appeared distracted, a malaise that had fallen over all the elves in the company for some days now Aragorn had noticed. Haldir seemed more alert and his tongue less prone to its usual stinging remarks while Elladan was watchful for every sound and hardly slept. On Legolas, Aragorn recognized his anxiety by unending crease of his brow, for it was often an indication of some danger that Legolas could feel but could not explain clearly.


"We are less than a day from Edoras," Aragorn remarked almost casually as if he were commenting on the weather.

"I should be glad when we arrive there," Legolas retorted with a frown. It seemed to be his only facial expression these days.

"Strange how he has done little to hinder our journey after his initial effort with the wolves," Aragorn added, aware that Legolas was trying not to leap to conclusions even though his instincts were seldom wrong.

"Yes," Legolas said a slight nod. "There is something coming at us. We all feel it. It is not the Hunter though for Elladan is accustomed to its approach but there is something out there."

"I know," Aragorn agreed readily. "We have arrived here all too easily and unhindered."

"You notice that too?" Faramir added his own voice to the discussion. "I have been expecting more of this dark elf since your attack and yet there has been nothing."

"Oh there is something for certain," Pallando declared. "We are just unaware of it now."

"We are approaching Edoras," Gimli replied. "If there is to be danger, it will arrive before we reach the city."

"I have not been to Edoras before," Haldir spoke up. "Does their city over look the horse plains as reputed?"

"Yes," Aragorn nodded, remembering his time there during the War of the Ring. He recalled fondly the brave kind Theoden, Eomer’s father who had ridden into battle in aid of Gondor and had died for his valiance. "It is a beautiful sight to behold."

"I have heard of the horses of Rohan and the Rohirrim," Haldir remarked, appearing quite sincere in his admiration for the Riders of Rohan. "I should like to see these fields."

"There is no better place to take shelter for a day," Faramir replied, feeling some eagerness in seeing his brother in law, though he wished the visit had come under better circumstances. "Eomer will supply us with whatever we need to continue our quest."

"It will be good to see the King of Rohan again," Gimli declared. "It seems too long since the last time."

"Alas the fortunes of rule," Aragorn sighed, thinking the same thing. So much had changed since they had fought at Helm’s Deep during the Battle of the Hornburg. Eomer had come into his kingship, Legolas and Gimli though often together, sat in rule over their own realms. Elladan and Elrohir had left Imladris for the chance of hunting orc in South Ithilien and Gandalf had left for the Undying Lands. Still, he welcomed the chance to rest in Edoras even though he knew they would not linger there long. Until Arwen was with him again, Aragorn would not peace even if he partook in rest.

Aragorn noticed that Elladan was silent and knew that the Prince of Imladris was pining for his brother somewhat. The twin sons of Elrond were seldom apart and Aragorn who had grown up in the house of the Rivendell lord considered them both family, even before his marriage to Arwen. They had rode together when Aragorn was still a Ranger of the North and fought battles together during the War of the Ring. Aragorn knew that Elladan had been affected greatly by Orophin’s death though the elf spoke little of it. However, the king did not press the issue knowing that Elladan would prefer to confide in his brother Elrohir instead of him.

"It was not your fault Elladan," Aragorn said to him quietly as he nudged his horse next to his elven kinsmen.

Elladan looked up and in his face, Aragorn saw Arwen and felt his heart shrivel in pain a little but the king soon crushed the feeling and tended to Elladan’s wounded state of mind.

"I should have done something," Elladan replied bitterly. "All I could was stand there and watch that monster kill him." He kept his voice low even though he was certain that Haldir could hear despite his best efforts. The march warden of East Lorien did not react however, to Elladan’s words and so he continued to speak. "He was so afraid of dying and I convinced him that it would not happen, that we would be safe if we could only reach the wood. He died within sight of it."

"Elladan," Aragorn placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "There was nothing you could have done. If you had not reached the wood, then you would be dead too and I would have no idea who had taken your sister. You live to avenge him and to help Arwen. You must be strong for I need you with us. You better than anyone, know what is ahead of us."

Elladan nodded somberly and raised his eyes to Aragorn. "Estel, I think it is here."

"What? The Hunter?" Aragorn’s eyes widened. "Why did you not say?’


"I can sense it but it is far away, not close, almost on the very edge of what I can sense of danger. It has stayed its course and not approached. It might be watching us but at this moment, it chooses not to attack. I had hoped if I remained silent and we continued as we were, we would not rouse its suspicion that we know it is close."

"Why?" Aragorn mused. "From what you tell us and what I have seen, it has nothing to fear from us and every ability to kill us all if it chose. Why does it linger?"

"That is what I do not know and it troubles me," Elladan answered. "I know it is cunning, for I have sensed it track us with such relentless determination that we would have died from sheer helplessness if we had not first reached Lothlorien. This beast does nothing without purpose and I fear that there is a reason it lingers behind. I do not know what it is but it I fear when we find out, it might be too late for us or Arwen."

**************

 

They moved in the dark.

Swift and purposeful, they traveled with vigor unknown to them since the fall of Sauron. Before now, many of them were scattered and divided. Others chose to hide in the hills, uncertain of what the future held for them for in the world of the Reunified Kingdom, where they had no place. They were outcast and they were forgotten even though there was a time when they were the epitome of fear. More than the thirst of battle, they craved purpose and they were without it for too long. Shame was not something they found palatable and yet in place of man flesh which they so ravenously fed upon during the War of the Ring, it was all that seemed to fill their bellies these days.

After the war, all races of Middle earth that were determined to be free of darkness forever had hunted them. Since they were Sauron’s foremost warriors to this end, they were driven relentlessly into the wilderness despite the fact that without their lord, their capacity to be a threat had been significantly curtailed. Their pride had driven them into the dark places of the world, to the caves beneath mountains, to the forests where none dare venture, to the edge of the world perhaps, for some it certainly seemed that way. It was not enough that the enemy had sworn to destroy them as a race but they were to be broken first, as a final cry of victory over Sauron and Mordor’s evil influence.

It would have come to pass this way if not for the shadow that found them in their hiding places and offered them the chance of a battle that would shake the foundations of Middle earth for generations to come. It was a battle they might not win but it did not matter. They were not orcs or goblins or any of the lower caste that would scurry away at the first sight of danger or defeat, they were soldiers of the dark, the greatest of Sauron’s warriors on the field of battle.

They were the fighting Uruk Hai.

It did not matter if they did not win the battle. It did not matter if they all died. What mattered was one final moment of pride, when they would hurl themselves upon the destroyers of all they knew and take as many with them on the field before they fell to the ground in death. The Uruk Hai possessed an odd sort of honor and honor would be served if they died fighting the enemy. The beast that came to them and offered this chance of redemption understood this all to well and had beseeched them to wait until the time was right to show themselves. Patience was not a trait they practiced well but obedience and discipline they knew well, so they waited until they were needed, until they heard the call.

The time had come and it was now.

The battlefield was named and it was Edoras.

**************

 

As anticipated, King Eomer was happy to receive them upon their arrival in Edoras. With the exception of Pallando and Haldir, Eomer was acquainted with all of the company, having fought at their side during the War of the Ring and Faramir was a kinsman, by marriage to Eowyn, Eomer’s sister. The city was preparing for the winter when the company rode through its boundaries, with folk in the process of stocking supplies and food for the cold season. Edoras’ position in the hills ensured that it would bear the brunt of the icy winds that swept down form the peak of the White Mountains and though the famed horses of Rohan still roamed freely across the famed plains beneath the city, they would be soon be stabled.

Eomer welcomed his guest with a meal in the Golden Hall of Meduseld almost as soon as their horses were settled and the formalities of greeting had been passed. It was a long journey form Minas Tirith and the tidings they brought regarding their trip indicated to Eomer that time was of the essence and the High King of the Reunified Kingdom would wish to be on his way as soon as he and his party had rested. Eomer, who was more than accustomed to Aragorn’s habits, knew that the king was not one to delay when he was required elsewhere and there could be no urgent matter than the return of his queen. However, he was clearly unhappy that he could not accompany Aragorn on his quest for his own kingdom required his presence at home.

"I am glad that Eowyn was not badly hurt," Eomer declared, relieved as they were all gathered at his table dining on the food prepared for them, following Aragorn’s narration of events that his sister’s valiant efforts to protect Arwen had not cost Eowyn her life. "I suppose that she would be thoroughly unhappy that her injury kept her from accompanying you on this quest."

"You have no idea," Faramir replied with a little smile, remembering their last parting and how Eowyn was disappointed that her injury withheld her participation in the mission to retrieve Arwen. "It was not merely that Arwen was taken by this beast but also the injury it had done to Melia as a result. Eowyn’s injuries were slight in comparison to the harm it did to Melia."

"Melia," Eomer mused, recalling hearing some intelligence that Legolas had married a mortal recently. "That is your wife Legolas?"

"Yes," Legolas nodded. Talk of Melia had reminded Legolas how much he missed his wife and made him wonder how she fared back in Minas Tirith. "We married only recently. The physicians tell me that she will recover but she broke many bones and there was some internal injuries that would take months to recover."

"I am glad to hear that," the King of Rohan said sincerely. "But what of her? What is she like?"

"Too good for Legolas," Gimli snorted, causing a ripple of laughter through the table that was sorely needed after the heavy news that had been delivered.


"She is a Ranger of Angmar," Legolas remarked, giving the dwarf a look.

"Ah, the ones assigned to protecting the border of the Shire?" Eomer glanced at Aragorn who knew these things better.

"Aye, specifically the northern passages to Bree and Hobbiton," Aragorn answered a second later. Since the prophecy that claimed the hobbits would play a vital role in the destruction of Sauron, the Shire had unknowingly been under the protection of the Rangers of the North. Now that the war was over, the protection was a known to all as was the king’s covenant to ensure that the home of the Ringbearer would never fall to harm.

"You choose yourself a strange bride elf," Eomer retorted, still unable to wrap his mind around a Lady Ranger, much less one that was wife to the Prince of Mirkwood.

"And you choose none at all," Faramir pointed out, aware that Legolas did not like discussing too deeply the constraints of a mortal – elf marriage and sought to spare his friend from his brother in law’s inquiry.

"I do not have time to choose a wife," the king replied. "Not yet. There is much to do in Rohan and at some point I will tend to it. At present, I wish I could offer you my Rohirrim to accompany you on this quest Aragorn but unfortunately, I have sent them westward," he apologized.

"I did notice your ranks were thin when we rode into the city," Aragorn remarked. Rohan had been relatively peaceful since Aragorn had come to the throne, with even the orcs and remnants of Sauron’s forces preferring warmer climates than the icy temperatures of the White Mountains.

"Is that not dangerous?" Haldir inquired, every the vigilant march warden.

"I do not send the Rohirrim away lightly," Eomer replied stiffly, trying not to be annoyed by the question since it was a valid observation. "However, a report reached me of Uruk Hai amassing at West Emnet. We have many new settlements there and those lands are not as bordered as Edoras by the mountains."

"I thought the Uruk Hai were scattered following the fall of Sauron," Pallando remarked, knowing little of the politics in this part of the world since he had been away from it for so long.

"They are mostly," Elladan offered. "However, they were the greatest of Sauron’s orc races and unlike the ones who came before them, they move by day and they do not shirk in the face of comparative forces. Uruk Hai stand their ground and fight. They are fearless. Even without a leader, should they fall upon a settlement without proper defenses, the effect can be devastating."

"We fought them at Helm’s Deep and their savagery is nothing to be taken lightly," Legolas offered. "If it were not for the Huorns of Fangborn, it is very likely that we would have been defeated."

"It would have been a tragedy for everyone," Gimli added. "The caves of Helm’s Deep are most spectacular. My heart would have broken knowing that they were infested with such foul folk."

"That was a battle," Eomer sighed, remembering that his uncle, King Theoden had fought alongside of them. The king had been so long under the spell of Grima Wormtongue, an agent of Saruman that the court of Rohan had forgotten what a king was meant to be. Fortunately, Gandalf’s arrival had broken the Wormtongue’s spell and Theoden had realized how near the brink of danger the treacherous counselor had brought him. In response, Theoden had ridden out with them, giving new spirit to the Rohirrim when their king led them into battle. They would have ridden him to certain death for the joy of seeing Theoden at his best again.

"One thing puzzles me however," Eomer spoke a moment after the silence where those who fought at Helm’s Deep remembered the fallen and those who had fought at that battle who were now absent, though not necessarily dead. "If this elf has taken Imladris for his own and keep anyone from finding their way to the city, what of the elves who still dwell there? I cannot believe that they would remain silent while an interloper steals the place of their rightful lords."

"I do not understand it myself," Elladan answered. "My people would not simply allow Eol to take my father’s place among them and they would certainly not sit by and be trapped within Imladris’ boundaries. The call of the sea is strong these days; many are leaving in great numbers. Imladris is being abandoned even as we speak, if not for the Undying Lands then for other elven cities. How he managed to maintain control worries me, for I cannot see my people sitting by and allowing this to happen."

It was a question that they pondered silently for the rest of the evening.    

The fog swept in from the mountains at midnight, curling clouds of white quickly covering the plains where the horses would have normally been if it were summer. Their thickness covered the twilight plains until all that could be seen from the walls of the city was a blanket of grey. In sky above, the moon kept an indifferent eye on all the proceedings, amidst the forming of heavy clouds of impending rain. The sentry posts maintaining their vigil over the city were filled with uneasiness at hearing no sound of life emanating through the thickening veil that was surrounding their city as if it were under siege.

Legolas Greenleaf stared at this very same fog from the top of the wall, having been drawn there by one of the guards who had knocked on his door while he had been resting. The guards had been reluctant to alert the either Eomer or Aragorn since this was clearly a matter for elves. The guard in question was acquainted with the Prince of Mirkwood from the battle of Helms Deep and later the Hornburg and knew that the elf was the person to approach about the situation which had arisen a short time before. Truth be known, Legolas was already awake, the sense of danger that had disturbed himself, Haldir and Elladan before arriving at Edoras had reached some measure of urgency. Legolas had been pondering whether or not he ought to alert Aragorn to this when he had heard the door knocking.

Following the man to the top of the guard wall, Legolas felt immediately anxious at the sight of the thickening fog, which did not feel at all natural to him. There was design in this and what was worse; the impending danger that he was gripped with seemed to find its source in this cloud of cold air. The guards had seen nothing unusual in this because it was approaching winter and such occurrences were common. The only thing that had been done was the customary signal fires had been lit to give travellers a beacon to follow through the dense fog and the guards at their post though the silence had unnerved them a little.

Apparently, Legolas had been called because Elladan was sitting at the wall’s edge, staring at the fog without telling any of the guards why he was keeping such a close eye on it. He was unsettling them with his vigilance because they knew elves to have heightened senses capable of detecting danger before it arrived and his refusal to tell them had ominous overtones.

When Elladan saw Legolas approach, the Prince of Imladris turned him and replied firmly, "it is here," Elladan said coldly.

"Where?" Legolas demanded, wondering why Elladan had not told Aragorn such important news.

"Out there," Elladan nodded towards the fog. "I was not certain at first but now I am sure of it. Do you sense the danger?"

"Yes," Legolas nodded, unable to deny the growing feeling of dread that was clenching his stomach into a fist. "I sense it."

"What do you sense?" The guard who had brought Legolas here demanded.

"I do not think it is alone," Elladan swallowed. "I feel the danger you do but I also sense beast. This fog comes at too opportune a time to be coincidental."

Suddenly, a flash of lightning over their heads and the subsequent clapping of thunder heralded the arrival of the rain that had been brewing in the clouds above them for some time. Large pregnant drops of water slapped hard against the skin upon landing, splattering in all directions across stone walls and upon roofs of houses across Edoras as the teeming shower intensified into a downpour of bruising rain. The rain dissipated the fog and as it cleared the landscape before them, what remained in place of the fog soon had the attention of every guard on the wall as alarm spread through the ranks of the sentries, like firestorm.

Elladan and Legolas could only stare in numb silence at the danger they had been anticipating take shape in a way that not even they were prepared for.

"Sweet Eru," Elladan managed a hoarse whisper.

"Go," Legolas, said to guard who was beside them, staring at the same sight in frozen horror. "Wake your king."  

**************

 Aragorn was dreaming.

In the dreamscape, Arwen was with him. She was not the victim of Eol’s abduction and she was where he had last seen her, in the garden with her friends, enjoying the first rays of sunlight she had seen since the birth of Eldarion. She had been so happy to out in the sunshine after seeing nothing but walls since bringing her son into the world. The lustre of her skin had yet to return but when she sat in the garden, with the open air in her lungs, Aragorn swore that she was never more beautiful to him. He had kissed her gently and left her to her friends because he had matters of his own to tend to.
In his dream, he remained frozen in that moment when they had kissed and all had seemed for a brief space of time, perfect in their world.

If he could remain in that moment forever, he would never wake up.

However, it appeared as if Aragorn had little choice in the matter when the hard banging on the door to his room shattered the serenity of the first peaceful sleep he had in days with its pounding noise. Stumbling out of bed where he had dropped fully clothed, he awoke to voices shouting urgently through the hiss of rainfall within the walls of the castle and from the courtyard below. He paused long enough to look out the window and saw people running through the downpour, with no thought to sheets of rain soaking them to the skin as they raced across the courtyard. Women, children and old people were being ushered about the place by soldiers in this orchestra of frenzied activity.

He did not know what was transpiring as he strode away from the window towards the door, now fully alert and awake. He paused long enough to retrieve Anduril before answering the door that had not ceased its pounding since waking up from his sleep. Upon reaching it, he was ready to tear it off its hinges in order to answer its call and found before him, Legolas standing before him with a grave expression on his face.

"Aragorn, you must come immediately." The elf did not mince words nor did he wait for Aragorn to follow him before hurrying up the hall again.

"What has happened?" Aragorn demanded as he hurried after Legolas who was now hurrying up the corridor towards the steps. His pace was not the only one moving swiftly throughout the hall, others were emerging from their places, weapons steady in their hands.

"Trouble," Legolas said simply because there was no way to describe what was beyond the city walls other than to show the king himself.

Aragorn followed Legolas out of Meduseld of into the courtyard and saw soldiers hurrying to defensive positions along the wall and he knew immediately what that meant. Meduseld had been placed near this wall so that the kings of Rohan could see the horses in the plains before them and their city behind them. From the Golden Hall one could look down into the carved streets at the center of Edoras and this moment, Aragorn could see an evacuation was in the process of occurring. People were being roused from their homes and moved to places of shelter positioned throughout the city, possibly beneath it. Aragorn was familiar with such enclaves for Minas Tirith had their own as well, employed when great danger approached.

Soldiers that were not employed in the business of moving folk to safety were charged with other tasks, such as gathering weapons, swords and shields. What seemed like a thousand arrows were being piled in the center of the courtyard before being taken in generous portions to the top of the wall, their shafts slick with moisture. Swords gleamed under the moonlight, water reflecting off their shiny blades. Others were preparing great vats of oil at strategic points in the wall. Edoras was built and flanked by mountains on all sides save the one that faced the plains. From there, the journey to reach the base of the fortress walls was nothing more than the scaling of a mildly steep hill, nothing that would give pause to a anyone who was determined to invade.

Legolas hurried up the steps to the section of wall where Aragorn could see Eomer and the rest of the company gathering. They were soaked to the skins from the rain but they were hardly aware of it. Their faces were grim and their eyes were fixed ahead, at something he had yet to see but had already guessed by the time he scaled the steps behind Legolas and reached the top. Stepping onto the top of the wall, the soldiers who saw him drew in their breaths sharply as a ripple of emotion moved through them all at the presence of the king. Aragorn wished they would look to Eomer in that manner but how could they when even the Lord of Rohan was showing his adoration in the look of intense relief that marked his face at the sight of his king and his friend. How could his men be expected to do what he could not?

"There," Legolas spoke finally, sweeping his arms beyond the wall.

Aragorn moved his eyes away from the friend awaiting him and traveled to the moonlight plains where horses should have been and found that it was occupied by the largest body of Uruk Hai he had seen since the battle of Hornburg. They were making steady progress up the hill and Aragorn estimated that they had little more than an hour before they reached the walls. The rain was slowing them down, making the ground muddy and uneven but it was not enough. Uruk Hai had been created to ignore such hindrances and as they moved across the plain like a black swarm of evil, spreading out to form a phalanx of steel that would prevent anyone from getting past them.

"How long until the Rohirrim get here?" Aragorn asked the minute Eomer was close enough to hear.

"Not long enough," Eomer replied. "A thick fog concealed their presence and there was no indication of danger from any of our sentry posts, not even our beacons to the east which would have given us plenty of warning of such an assemblage."

"The beast is among them," Elladan declared. "He leads them. I am certain of it."

"This attack is by that damn villain sorceror?" Eomer swore angrily.


"Steady your rage," Aragorn said swiftly. "This is not the time for it. How many men do we have that can defend the city?"

"Not enough to repel an attack of that size," Eomer declared. "I have brought ruin on my people by leaving us wide open when I sent the Rohirrim away."

"You could not have possibly known that this was the enemy’s intent," Faramir replied gently. "I would not have thought it possibly that he would dare such an assault? It would not surprise me if the supposed threat to West Emnet were but a ruse to draw your forces away. Still why on Edoras of all places?"

Aragorn thought quickly, his gaze sweeping over the faces before him, drenched to the bone in ran, their eyes all bearing the same heavy burden of what they would be facing in less than an hour. Friends who had ridden all this way with him, to free his wife only to find that they were about to fight in a battle with warriors none of them had ever expected to face again in this fashion. Eol could not have chosen to simply strike at Edoras at the spur of the moment. This attack was planned because the elf knew Aragorn would take the swiftest course to Imladris. He had planned a contingency for every possible outcome and Aragorn started to understand that he had been playing this game wrong. It was not just about kidnapping Arwen.

It was about keeping her.

"To destroy all of us," Aragorn spoke quietly, understanding at last. "He wanted to destroy us all, to take Imladris and Arwen for his own by inflicting a lesson of destruction upon all of us, leaders of our respective kingdoms in Middle earth. Wipe us out and there will be known who dare oppose him or avenge our deaths once he had retreated to Imladris. If he can do this to the best of us, he will ensure that no one else will come after him."

"He may well succeed," Haldir replied staring at the enemy approaching. "If we do not act now."

"We will do that most certainly," Aragorn declared turning to Eomer. "We must protect the city at all costs, if we can hold Edoras, it will give us time for the Rohirrim to return and catch them on their rear. Therefore, we must hold them before they reach the walls. We must cut down their numbers as much as possible. I do not think we will keep them from entering the city but if we leave as many of their kind on the battlefield, we will not be overrun when it comes time for close quarter combat. How many horses are still here?"

"A minimum complement," Eomer answered. "However one of my riders is worth ten of them. We will make them count." He said viciously.

"Good," Aragorn nodded. "Tell your riders to prepare for battle, we will not use them until our line is broken. They are to come from our right only after the enemy reaches us. I would not tip our hand too soon by squandering the precious resources that they are. Leave plenty of arrows and swords on the wall. If we are driven back, we will need them."

"What about the Hunter?" Elladan asked. "If he fights for them, I am almost certain that he will make straight for you."

"You cannot fall in battle," Faramir said firmly as if there was no question about this. "The result would be devastating."

"What are you suggesting?" Aragorn stared at them with shock. "That I withdraw and hide?"

"No," Pallando spoke. "You cannot hide. Your presence here alone will have every man fighting like Turin or Elendil to win the day. Leave the Hunter to me. I may not be able to destroy it but I can see to it that its attentions are otherwise occupied with concerns beyond killing you."

"Are you certain of this?" Legolas stared at the wizard.

"Nothing in life is certain," Pallando replied with a little smile. "But I will do my best to ensure that we all survive the night."

"I think we all will," Gimli responded, his gaze moving to the approaching storm. Rain trickled off the point of his axe and the dwarf could not help thinking that this battle reminded him of Helm’s Deep. It was highly unlikely however, that there would be any Huorns coming to the rescue this time.

************

The rain did not stop.

It became heavier it was possible. They were being besieged by Uruk Hai and by water.

Within the city, the folk remained huddled in their shelters, awaiting as the rain made pitter patter noises outside and made the air inside their confines hot and humid, sweat absurdly forming against their skins when they should have been freezing in winter cold. Wives spoke nervously amongst themselves, trying not to think of the danger that was about to be visited upon their men. They tended the others in their families, gave them food from the provisions supplied, comforted those who were alone and tried to settle down children who were charged with the excitement of a battle without knowing the consequences.

The streets of Edoras were silent. The taverns were empty; the houses were dimmed of their lights. There was a feeling of limbo, of being abandoned and yet alive even by the absence of those who were forced away. Pools of water formed on the muddy tracks where cobblestone did not reach. The city would have almost been beautiful under the indigo twilight where water made everything sparkle. It would have been beautiful if not for the overwhelming sense of doom that lingered in the air like a stench that would not fade. Even the Golden Hall of Meduseld, the home of Rohan’s kings seemed to pale under this unflinching malaise of uncertainty.

On the walls of Edoras, soldiers playing the part of the secondary line of defense watched the gathered forces of their friends and family in the plains below them. While they would not draw the first blood in the battle, their task on the wall would ensure that all might win the day. They heated vats of oil, sharpened swords, placing them within easy reach of the defenders when and if they were driven to retreat. Spears and axes, maces and any weapon that could be found in the arsenal was produced. Arrows waited in similar fashion; their flights of eider protruding out of the bins were they were houses. Signal fires were placed intermittently along the walls to give the defenders who were forced to turn back some place to run towards. Their flames protected by the rain by covers of steel poised above the fire.

On the ground, the main line of defense awaited.

The line stood firm, composed of kings and soldiers, of elves, men, dwarf and spirits beyond all them. Bows, swords, axes and daggers were poised and waiting as the enemy closed in on them. All stood all and proud even though the numbers were against them. The Uruk Hai were not far away now, their growling sounds could be heard through the rain. Neither enemy had seen each other’s eyes yet and so there was time for each side to prepare themselves for the slaughter, each whetting their appetite to fight for their own causes. Jaws were set hard, fists clenched bows, knuckles turning white from fear and anticipation. Hearts hardened to granite as the margin of battle narrowed into a thinning line that would soon vanish altogether.

Aragorn Elessar, King of the Reunified Kingdom stood with Anduril sheathed in its scabbard at his hip because the weapon of the moment was a bow. He did not doubt that Anduril would taste blood this night but for the moment, the arrow would be their first line of attack. The enemy was still beyond the reach of its points but the line had been formed of arrows, moving as far as there were bodies to hold their bows. Aragorn saw not the enemy as they closed in, he did not see the rain that was stinging his eyes and forcing him to blink periodically.

He did not even feel the cold. All he felt was rage. A pure black rage to rival the fury of any dark lord. He stared single minded in his hatred at the one who would steal his wife and bring his friends and his people to this bloody confrontation. He had not laid eyes upon Eol but he knew at this moment that their meeting when it came, and it would come because he would not die until he faced the elf who had masterminded this, Eol would die by his hand.

Beside him, Legolas stood proud and tall, flanking his friend. He was without the doubt the greatest archer on the field but at this moment, Legolas did not think skill mattered as much as speed. He had been laden with the most arrows and their weight upon his back was almost crushing but he knew that of all of them, he had the best chance of using those arrows to their fullest effect. His limbs felt heavy from the saturation of his clothes by the rain and there was this prevailing sense of danger that seemed redundant now that they could see the danger coming towards them. He glanced at Aragorn and saw that the king’s expression was of stone and shuddered inwardly at the fury he could feel emanating from the former Ranger.

Next to Legolas was Gimli who bore his axe with equal determination. His eyes fixed upon the wall of evil coming towards them. Long ago, they had played a game at Helms Deep and it appeared tonight they would play it again. Gimli relished battle and the War of the Ring had been war of which songs would be sung for centuries hereafter. However, as he stood with his friends now, he thought of the wife left behind in the Glittering Caves, of Lorin whom he seldom spoke but carried in his heart no matter where he went. The nature of marriage between dwarves ensured that they would never remain long enough in each other’s company to do any more than produce offspring. Yet she was more then that to him and as he stood about to fight a battle inspired by a woman, he hoped to see her again.

To Faramir, this almost seemed like something out of a book. Certainly, this was the kind of battle he and Boromir used to dream of as children when they built their forts made out of pillows and blankets. Faramir had fallen during the siege of Gondor and was not healed until after the witch king had been slain on the fields of Pelennor where the war ended. He did not know the battles that the others had seen. He had fought during the siege and he had defended his people as a Ranger of Ithilien but a battle like this, where he stood head to head with the enemy, with his bow drawn and aimed to fire was something entirely new. He promised Eowyn he would return to her and prayed that he did not fall for he was not about to suffer her wrath in the afterlife if he did.

Elladan did not fear battle with Uruk Hai for despite their formidable natures as a fighting opponent, they could not stand up to his hatred of them and all orc kind. More than six centuries before, he and Elrohir had rescued their mother from the hands of orcs whom had abducted her and taken her into the Misty Mountains. Until this day, neither brother spoke about the state of the Silver Queen when she had been found, only to know that he shared Aragorn’s desire to retrieve Arwen because he would not see what happened to their mother be inflicted upon their sister. The twin brothers had remembered the desolation and the terrible wounds that had been forced upon Celebrian, wounds they could not even tell their father for the shame of it. However, her suffering was branded into their psyche like fire and with it was a hatred of Orcs that would never die.

Haldir had no hatred of Orcs or Uruk Hai. There were to him animals, like the boar or the wolf. Albeit there were a little more cunning than those already mentioned, infinitely more unclean that was for certain but he did not hate them. He stood with his bow, prepared to indulge in a taste of battle he had not know for many centuries and found a shudder of hidden anticipation running through him at the thought. Yet despite his desire to kill the enemy before him, he sought out the Hunter and was dismayed by the fact that he could not tell where the beast that had murdered Orophin was presently. He glanced at sideways and knew that if he kept close eye upon Aragorn, the beast was sure to come. He also reminded himself to note what Legolas was doing since he had promised the Prince’s lady that he would ensure that he was returned to her safely.

Pallando kept close eye upon Aragorn because he could sense the beast. It was somewhere on the edge of the battle, waiting to see if the Uruk Hai could spare it the trouble of doing its master’s bidding. Pallando’s hands gripped his staff and his sword. He had not transcended his body so he could be killed. However, death did not fear him for this body had come with him when he had sailed across the sea to Middle earth form the Undying Lands. He simply did not wish to die at this moment exactly for he had to protect Aragorn from this aberration from the past who had come to plague a world that had moved on and left it behind. Pallando would allow nothing to keep him from that end, no matter how many he had to kill to ensure it.

The Uruk Hai came into view, their hands grasping their unpolished maces and swords, their teeth bared and their red eyes staring through the dark, challenging the warriors of Edoras to do their worst. Aragorn thought they had appeared as many when he stared at them from the wall, however, at this moment they seemed so numerous that the battle line before them seemed puny in comparison. Aragorn refused to let numbers defeat them before the first blow was struck and knew that it was time to attack, before the forces rallied against them disheartened his army and demoralized them into believing this was a battle they could not win.

"NOW!" Aragorn roared at the top of his lungs and let the arrows fly.

His scream corresponded with the Uruk Hai battle cry and they too were running their weapons raised in attack as they ran forward with powerful strides. Rushing to meet them were arrows so numerous that they was impossible to count or distinguish as they sailed through the air with deadly accuracy, crossing the distance between the two armies in a matter of seconds before finding their home in flesh. The initial attack halted the Uruk Hai advance but briefly as bodies wounded tumbled to the ground only to be trampled by the others behind them.

"AGAIN!" Aragorn ordered and a second hail of arrows flew from the archers. This barrage causing as much destruction as the first. Uruk Hai fell in their tracks to the muddy ground but once again, their demise did little to halt the numbers behind them who were closing the distance between the enemy with surprising speed despite the wet and slippery terrain.

"AT WILL!" Aragorn shouted and the arrows flew once more, this time there was no ordered pattern, no pause while they waited to fire in unison. Legolas next to Aragorn was shooting arrows as fast as he could pull them from their pouch, loading the bow with speed that no one else save Haldir could match. Aragorn’s own skill was nothing in comparison and he forced himself to keep in time with the elven prince in the hopes that Legolas’ speed would allow him to inflict as significant damage upon the approaching enemy.

However, this distance between the two armies was swiftly dwindling and it was only a matter of time before arrows would be useless in the battle and the combat would shift to the use of the sword. As Aragorn saw the Uruk Hai close in on them, he dropped his bow and immediately unsheathed Anduril. The others next to him followed his action until only Legolas was still firing arrows since he was the only one present with the skill to shoot them at such close range. Even Haldir had desisted and had produced his sword, joining the collection of blades and axes that were suddenly gleaming with rain and moonlight.

With the Uruk Hai only a hare’s breath away, Aragorn issued the last order he could before orders meant nothing any longer.

"ATTACK!"


Chapter 6 - Siege

"ATTACK!"

The word slashed through the air with more fury then the arrows shot few seconds earlier. The Uruk Hai were already pushing forward, their own battle cry urging them on despite the death of arrows that had had left many of the forward line dying or dead in the mud. The enemy line was uneven but moved swiftly, like a foaming wave riding the tide to shore. The army of Rohan was more than equal to the task of meeting the onslaught, if not in number then certainly in spirit. For each side, there was nothing else between them, nothing beyond the desire to win the day. As the rally cry of Rohan crushed the teeming hiss of rain, the army of men rushed forward to meet their foe in open battle.

Aragorn led the charge, refusing to do anything less when the line he commanded broke ranks to face the approaching enemy. With Anduril secure in his grip, he raised it high above his head, like a banner for the others to follow as he ran through the rain, leading those with him towards the Uruk Hai lines. The world drained of all noise, save the furious music of conflict that was as old as time as bodies tore through the rain, weapons glistening with moisture and faces contorted in the euphoric purity of the one moment in all battles where anything could happen. Before the first blade struck, there was always hope of victory on either side. Only when blood began to run red rivers in the ground did that perception change.

Like two great mountains smashing into each other, the army of Rohan and the army of the Uruk Hai met in the middle of the battlefield. They overlapped one another as enemies penetrated swiftly into each other’s ranks until there was no way to discern where the line was drawn between them. For a singular instance, they were almost one and some might argue that conflicts should be resolved when both stood together in this place of common ground before the spilling of blood made it impossible for anything to come forth but more destruction. However, those arguments seemed very far away now. Not when the convergence ended the battle cry, silencing that sound of orchestrated camaraderie with the shattering sound of steel against steel as the first weapon struck its corresponding counterpart in the field.

Aragorn saw an Uruk Hai running towards him, his large mace held high in the air, preparing to take a powerful swing at him. Without wasting any time, the king of Gondor prepared himself and by the time he was close enough to the enemy, he was more than ready to counter such an attack. Swinging neatly in a wide arc, he tore open the Uruk Hai’s belly. Black blood spilled down blacker skin already slicked with rain. The Uruk Hai roared, bearing fangs but not quite ready to die. He brought down the mace even though he was already dead, preparing to take his enemy but Aragorn slipped past its deadly aim and spun Anduril’s hilt in his hand and speared the Uruk Hai through the ribs.

Through the confusion of fighting bodies around him, Aragorn saw something coming at him from his rear vision and wasted no time bracing his foot against the dead Uruk Hai and pulling out the sword that impaled the enemy from rib to rib. Anduril came free with a splatter of blood following the abrupt route through flesh and Aragorn spun around just in time to see another Uruk Hai, just as large as the first, taking a purposeful swing with a heavy blade. Aragorn blocked the blow and used his momentum to throw a foot into the Uruk Hai enemy’s chest, forcing the large warrior to stumble. Without further deliberation, Aragorn sliced Anduril through in a neat arc in front of him. The Uruk Hai had managed to elude the blade from sinking into deep but his chest suffered the sting of the weapon that had once taken Sauron’s ring from his finger.

The Uruk Hai roared in defiance at the injury and rushed at Aragorn unwisely in his fury. The king of Gondor performed another neat slice and this time there was no further resistance as the enemy dropped to the ground, his knees sinking deep into the dirt, next to where his head had fallen. Aragorn had little chance to relish his victory, for he was tackled into the dirt a fraction of a second later by another Uruk Hai warrior. Both slammed hard into the mud, Anduril almost becoming dislodged from his hand. As Aragorn felt his head create muddy indents in the grass, he saw the Uruk Hai above him about to strike. He rolled across the muddy terrain just as the blade sunk into the grass where his head had been. As he tried to move away, the Uruk Hai brought down one mighty arm and a fist impacted solidly against his ribs with such force, the air was driven from his lungs.

The pain distracted him enough for the Uruk Hai to pull his weapon free of the mud where it had sunk to strike again. Aragorn forced himself painfully to his knees and blocked the strike that would have almost speared like a stuck pig. The Uruk Hai had managed to get upright first and was in a clear advantage as Aragorn struggled to get to his feet to meet the enemy’s strikes with the power and control needed to survive. The Uruk Hai struck again and this time Aragorn was driven backwards by the fury behind the slash of the enemy blade. He scrambled backwards as he tried to gain time to stand up when he saw the point of a blade being thrust at him. He turned sharply to avoid being impaled but the margin was too narrow and he felt the blade cut into his skin, slashing his back open with a cut that was not deep but caused considerable pain.

Without thinking he lashed out wildly, pain and fury giving him unexpected accuracy and struck flesh with a lucky blow.

The Uruk Hai before him bellowed in agony as Aragorn saw its hand fall in the mud, still clutching the sword that would never again used in battle. The enemy staggered backwards, blood spurting from severed veins when Aragorn leapt to his feet, remembering how hard it was to kill an Uruk Hai and how strong they were even after one of their limbs were severed, hurried to finish what he had began. However, it would seem as if the Uruk Hai had the same thoughts as a fist from the creature’s good hand lashed out and struck Aragorn across the jaw with enough force to stop the king’s advance. Blood filled his mouth as Aragorn shook off the blow and kicked out a foot, landing the ball of his foot in the center of the Uruk Hai’s chest.

The Uruk Hai staggered back in pain before suddenly stopping short where he stood. The expression of fury had withered away into something else as the creature dropped to his knees. Blood trickled past sharp teeth as he fell faced down. Standing behind him was Gimli. The Uruk Hai had stumbled right into the sharp curve of the dwarf blade and as Aragorn wiped the blood from his mouth; he gave the lord of the Glittering Caves a nod of thanks before they joined the battle once more.

He watched for an instant as Gimli hurried forward to the aid of a soldier of Rohan beset upon by an Uruk Hai that was about to kill him. The dwarf heaved his axe over his shoulder with expert precision and brought the blade down against the handle of the mace, snapping it in two before it would have surely killed the man of Rohan. The Uruk Hai whose weapon it was turned to Gimli and lashed out, making the fatal mistake of underestimating the dwarf. Gimli dropped to his haunches and avoided the swing of his powerful arm all together. Lowering his helmeted head, Gimli barreled into his opponent with such force that he knocked the evil creature right off his feet. Landing hard against the ground on his back, the last thing that the Uruk Hai saw was a glint of a dwarf blade an instant before it split his skull open.


As Gimli finished the Uruk Hai at his feet, he looked over his shoulder and saw the man of Rohan who was unable to offer thank because he was already launching himself at the next Uruk Hai. The dwarf sought out his friends in the midst of all the carnage and saw Aragorn battle the Uruk Hai as if he were a dark vengeful god. The king of Gondor was fearless and he was releasing the fury of his abducted queen upon the Uruk Hai offering themselves for the killing. Gimli turned away as he saw an Uruk Hai coming toward him, sword slashing through the air, coming straight for his head and no helmet was going to protect him.


Lunging in between the Uruk Hai’s legs, the mud carried him past the enemy who bellowed in outrage at the unexpected maneuver by the dwarf and spun around to meet him. Gimli was already on his feet and crumpled the Uruk Hai with one powerful whack. He pulled back straight; ensuring what had not been sliced away from the initial strike was done when he retrieved his weapon. The Uruk Hai’s powerful arm lashed out, grabbing a fist full of Gimli’s beard and yanking the dwarf towards him. Gimli was inches away from teeth that was quite capable of tearing out his throat when he slammed his helmet against the enemy’s face and felt bone shattered under the impact. The Uruk Hai dropped like a stone, his body splattering mud in all directions.

Blood ran down Gimli’s forehead and he took a moment to examine the wound made when the helmet dug into his skin and drew blood from the encounter with the Uruk Hai. Across the gray battlefield, he could see bodies of both Uruk Hai and men becoming trampled into as losses on both sides mounted. His fingers knotted tightly around his axe and he hurried towards the thickest part of the fighting, where Legolas and Aragorn were presently battling. The elf was showing the Uruk Hai that he was just as deadly with the two daggers as he was with a bow.

Legolas Greenleaf wiped the water from his eyes as he saw the Uruk Hai coming at him. He thrust one of the blades into the creature’s body as another attempted to rush him. A fist thrown at an opportune time, connected with bone and he pulled his dagger out of the first, spinning around neatly to impale both into the second Uruk Hai. He could not see the others but he sensed that they were near. The enemy was all around them, like swarming flies with a rage that was propelling them to attack with near beserker fury. Legolas had fought Uruk Hai before but there was urgency in the attack that was new. He would have pondered the reason for this more deeply if not for the fact that he was far too busy keeping his head attached to his body.

A low, menacing growl preempted the arrival of another Uruk Hai warrior. Legolas looked up and saw himself staring at the creature that regarded him for a second as if there were time in this battle to size up an enemy. There was a brief pause as both stared at each other before the Uruk Hai took the offensive, his mace flying over his shoulder as he hurled it at Legolas. Legolas avoided being struck by slipping past the weapon in mid air, bringing him closer to the Uruk Hai then he would have liked. He slammed his elbow into the creature’s rib, causing it to stumble forward. The Uruk Hai recovered quickly though, spinning around almost and stabbing the mace at Legolas, connecting with the prince’s chest. The pain of it shuddered through him as he fell into the mud, sending shockwaves through his body. He could feel the saturation of his tunic as blood began to seep through torn skin.

Unfortunately there was little time to debate the matter as the Uruk Hai prepared to finish him off by taking a step towards him. Legolas flipped onto his feet, no easy task when the ground was so wet but he was upright when the Uruk Hai reached him. The warrior had abandoned his mace, producing his sword and he brought it down on Legolas with all the strength he could muster. Legolas caught the blade with his daggers, a sharp clang of iron broke through the rumble of fighting around them. He kicked out his foot and pushed the Uruk Hai back to free his weapons but the enemy retreated only a little. The warrior’s arm swung out powerfully in a neat arc as Legolas moved to finish him. The fist caught Legolas squarely in the jaw, causing the prince to loose his footing and tumble unceremoniously to the ground.

The Uruk Hai moved in for the kill when suddenly, his blood splattered across Legolas when an elven blade appeared out of the darkness and took the creature’s head from its body. As the dead body fell to its knees, Legolas let out a relieved breath as Haldir appeared before him, his blade dripping with blood as he offered Legolas a hand. Not too proud to be grateful, Legolas took it and got to his feet.

"Thank you," he said briefly.

"I promise your lady," Haldir replied softly and that was all the explanation needed.

The march warden did not appear smug or superior as he often did but sincere in his words. For the first time, Legolas understood the relationship between Haldir and Melia although in this place he could say little about it for soon enemies were crowding in on them again and the moment to speak, if there was ever one to begin with, was lost.

Haldir drew away from Legolas, glad that they did not have the time to speak. His feelings regarding the Ranger Melia, now the Lady of Eden Ardhon, was something he spoke of to no one, even his brother Rumil. Instead, he sought the battlefield for Aragorn, having not forgotten his secret oath to keep the king in his sights. If the Hunter were going to strike at anyone during this battle, it would be the King of Gondor. Aragorn was not merely pivotal to the battle but also the main obstacle to its master’s desire to keep the Evenstar for his own. However, at the moment the Hunter did not deign to make an appearance and Aragorn was laying waste to almost every Uruk Hai he encountered, driven by rage they could not understand but his company recognized all too well.

Suddenly, he felt the body of an Uruk Hai slam into him. The elf tumbled into mud, unable to regain any balance from the unexpected assault. His hands dug into wet mud, as his weapon was lost. The Uruk Hai who had placed him in this vulnerable position was on his feet first and appeared just as disarmed. However, that did not stop the warrior from slamming his boot into Haldir’s ribs, spinning him around in mid air as the elf attempted to stand. Haldir could feel the sharp pain of bones snapping but he grit his teeth and forced away the pain as he looked up and saw the Uruk Hai reaching for him. Thinking quickly, he barely slipped out of the creature’s grip as it attempted to snag a fist full of hair. Haldir got to his feet as the Uruk Hai threw another clenched fist.

The elf caught the wrist before it could touch his face and slammed his elbow into the enemy’s forearm, snapping the bone cleanly and forcing an agonized cry of pain from the Uruk Hai. Wasting no time while the enemy was disadvantaged, Haldir threw a series of punches at the Uruk Hai, putting all the strength he could into each effort because the Uruk Hai were notoriously resistant to injury. Haldir made every strike count, until the Uruk Hai was struggling to remain on his feet. During this disorientation, Haldir sighted his elven blade and hurried to it. Picking it up with a deft flick of his foot, he caught the blade at the hilt and smoothly impaled the Uruk Hai upon its point in one fluid stroke.

Investigating because he had no time earlier, Haldir saw the Uruk Hai had been hurled his way because Pallando was using his magic to swat aside the enemy like they were flies. The power of wizards was never taken lightly and as Uruk Hai came at the Istar in a united assault, Pallando send them flying through the air with ease. Although Pallando could have done worse to them, he was trying not to exhaust his powers. The wizard could sense the presence of the beast that frightened Elladan so much worried Legolas and was so despised by Haldir. It was close, on the periphery of the battle, Pallando was certain, watching and waiting for the opportunity to strike.

Pallando wondered if the Hunter’s absence to date was due to the battle raging furiously about him. The army of Rohan was barely managing to hold its ground and at too great a cost in casualties. Though they were battling valiantly against large numbers, the bodies of the fallen were covering the field, their blood seeping into the drenched ground. The wizard estimated that it would not be long before Aragorn was forced to give the order to retreat. Although the men of Rohan fought bravely, their courage fired by the determination not to fail their kings and their loved ones, Pallando could sense the reasoning of the Uruk Hai in this battle, being of one last act of defiance, was almost as powerful. While Pallando did not believe defeat was eminent, the carnage that he saw as he swept his gaze across the battlefield indicated that the price of victory if it came would be inadvertently high.

"Istar?" Elladan’s voice reached him through the fighting.


The prince had proven continuously throughout the battle that while the Hunter had bested him during its relentless pursuit from Imladris, it was not to say that Elladan was not a formidable warrior. The Uruk Hai who had come up against him had learnt how much he effort he had put into perfecting the art of killing orcs. It was a craft honed over six centuries of blood and revenge, driven by the memory of what their foul kind had done to the mother he and Elrohir had adored. When Elladan reached Pallando, his tunic and his face bore smatterings of blood and the sword he carried in his hand was still dripping with it, the drops become thin as it mingled with water on the wet ground.

"I sense the Hunter near," Elladan spoke, trying to be heard over the noise of clanging steel, of voice crying out in pain or in bloodlust. "Why does it not appear?"

"I do not know," Pallando replied shaking his head as both their eyes moved over the scene of blood, of men and Uruk Hai doing their best to destroy each other.

"Look out!" Elladan’s eyes widened as he pushed Pallando out of the way.

An Uruk Hai had almost speared the wizard with his sword and Elladan smashed the blade away with his own sword. The Uruk Hai reacted by throwing his fist following the arc his sword had taken. Large and bruising knuckles connected with Elladan’s jaw and sent the prince staggering as the taste of blood filled his mouth. The Uruk Hai stabbed the air in front of him with the point of his sword and Elladan shook off his disorientation in time to see it coming and once again parried to escape unscathed. The Uruk Hai’s blade bounced off the edge of his stronger elven blade and the recoil gave him valuable time to counterattack.

Using his elven speed to the fullest advantage, Elladan closed the distance between himself and the Uruk Hai before thrusting the sword into the enemy’s chest. His blade did not sink deep, but it was more than enough to split open the flesh and causing the Uruk Hai to cry out in pain. Lashing out in pain, Elladan retreated as the Uruk Hai’s sword cut a path through the air towards him. The elven prince stopped the blow before it sliced through his throat but his Uruk Hai nemesis was far from defeated and immediately struck again, fury behind its next effort. The rage behind the sword when it clashed against Elladan’s forced the elven prince to take a step backward. However, he sensed something a miss and there was a split second of perfect clarity when all things came together in a mosaic and he turned, almost in slow motion to see another Uruk Hai having come up behind him, whilst he had been battling the warrior’s comrade.

"ELLADAN!" He heard Faramir shout loudly through this discovery "DROP!"

Without question, the prince dropped into the mud and saw an arrow slicing through the air. The point speared the second Uruk Hai in the throat, forcing the sword that would have almost certainly taken Elladan’s life to drop from his hand. Elladan’s shock at almost seeing his three thousand year existence end was brief and the prince scrambled to his feet as the first Uruk Hai started to retreat now that the odds had shifted out of his favor. Elladan wasted no time as he brought his sword down against the Uruk Hai’s own weapon, his own anger inspired by how close he had come to death. The Uruk Hai retreated while Elladan kept after the creature until the Uruk Hai blade snapped beneath his sword. Blood splattered across Elladan’s face when his blade, having broken the enemy’s sunk into the Uruk Hai’s face, almost cleaving it in two.

Elladan wiped the dark blood from his face and turned to thank Faramir who had lowered the bow he had picked up to help the elven prince. Pallando had been ambushed by a group of Uruk Hai after Elladan had pushed him out of the way and had just dispatched them with ease. Faramir was unsheathing his sword again when suddenly without warning an arrow streaked through the air and impaled him in the shoulder. The Prince of Ithilien did not cry as he was struck out and the expression that moved across his face as he looked down upon the shaft protruding through his shoulder was one of surprise. His brow knotted in confusion as the pain had yet to register in his mind.

For Aragorn, time had ceased to be when he saw that arrow strike its mark in Faramir’s shoulder. Suddenly, he was transported far away from the battlefields of Edoras and left within that clearing in Parth Galen where he had found Boromir, riddled with arrows while his heart was crushed with the weight of sorrow at knowing he had arrived too late. Seeing Faramir, who looked so much younger than the brother who had meant so much to Aragorn and in part his kingship, with an arrow protruding from his shoulder was more than the king could stand and it was not just he who was polarized by this image. Legolas and Gimli were also similarly affected for they too remembered what it was like to arrive and find the man of Gondor dying.

"Legolas!" Aragorn shouted loudly enough for the elf with his superior senses to hear him. "Clear me a path!"

Legolas nodded quickly, his gaze searching the muddy ground for what he needed and he found it almost immediately. The bow was covered in mud but undamaged. The elf immediately armed it with what arrows he had remaining and took aim as Aragorn cut his way through the Uruk Hai warriors to reach Faramir who had dropped to his knees attempting to extract the arrow embedded in his body. None of the enemy appeared before Faramir and as the king brandished his sword upon approach, with such ferocity that any Uruk Hai that Legolas did not strike down with his arrows were met a grisly end at Anduril’s blade.

Aragorn skidded next to Faramir, who was still attempting to remove the arrow from his shoulder. His lack of success increased his pain and his pallor showed the effects of his efforts. Aragorn gazed across the field from where the arrow had come and saw Gimli taking his axe to the archer whom had inflicted the wound upon the younger son of Denethor.

"Faramir, be still!" Aragorn ordered, his role as a healer suddenly becoming more important then that of king.

"It is alright," Faramir replied as he tried again to extract the arrow and could not because it was too deeply imbedded in his shoulder. "I am not grievously wounded."

"You cannot know what it is to see you like this," Aragorn declared with a clear torment in his voice. "I will not fail you as I failed your brother."


"What foolishness is this?" Faramir stared at him, shocked by the statement. "My brother died because of this scum and he died bravely. You did not fail him."

Aragorn would not listen. He gazed across the battlefield and saw too many bodies being trampled into the mud by those still standing and not enough were Uruk Hai. The men of Rohan were fighting valiantly but they were outnumbered. It was time for Aragorn to act while there was still enough warriors to make an effective stand against the Uruk Hai in the city. He reached for the horn that was lashed to his belt and freed it with a swift pull.

"What are you doing?" Faramir asked, having given up trying to remove the accursed arrow from his shoulder. He suspected the point was trapped between bone and it required more resolve and endurance than he had to remove it by simply pulling it out.

Aragorn did not answer and held the horn to his lips. He blew once into it, producing a loud blaring sound that rose above the sound of battle to reach all those who knew what the signal meant. Aragorn blew again, letting the sound move through the length of the battlefield, capturing the attention of not merely his own but also that of the Uruk Hai who wondered what this would mean for them. There was a moment when everyone seemed to pause, waiting in anticipation at what this signal was meant to bring.

Suddenly, the song of the horn ended when Aragorn lowered it from his lips and a new sound filled the air, the thundering beat of horses galloping through the mud. Leading the Rohirrim was Eomer, his sword held high as he and his riders charged towards the Uruk Hai in grim determination. They had lingered at the edge of the battle, waiting for the call that would give them leave to advance, trying to ignore the screams of friend and family who were dying on the field, trying to stay their patience and not rush in impulsively to held. Now there were like a dam that had burst free and there was nothing to stop them as they swept across the plains with horses surging ahead with powerful strides.

"FALL BACK TO THE CITY!" Aragorn shouted for those who did not fully comprehend what the signal had meant. The word moved through the army of Rohan like wildfire and Aragorn saw them starting to break off their battles with the Uruk Hai to return to the city walls. As the Uruk Hai attempted to pursue them, Eomer and the Rohirrim gave them reason to pause as the riders tore through the Uruk Hai forces and did their worst.

"Come," Aragorn turned to Faramir and helped the Prince of Ithilien to his feet. "We must return to the safety of Edoras. Can you walk?"

"I will walk off this field, that is for certain," Faramir declared as Aragorn pulled him upright.

They made what pace they could as the fighting continued behind them, though more and more of Rohan’s men were falling back to the city walls. The small contingent of Rohirrim led by Eomer were keeping the Uruk Hai at bay as they made their escape however, the retreat was not easy and the Uruk Hai were difficult to deter. Archers positioned on the wall were now firing at the Uruk Hai, adding to the obstacle in the enemy advance.


"How is he?" Legolas asked as the elf reached Aragorn and Faramir.

"I live," Faramir declared, starting to become a little annoyed by all this. "I am not dead nor am I to be protected like some child."


"Fine then," Aragorn replied releasing him. "Walk on your own."

The Prince of Ithilien sank to his knees once more before gazing up at his king and muttered, "point taken."

"I am glad," Aragorn harrumphed and motioned Legolas to aid him. "Now let us continue without argument."

"You are nothing if subtle," Legolas retorted wryly as they reached the gates of Edoras were archers were standing on either side of the entrance, making short work of any Uruk Hai who attempted to enter the city in pursuit of the city’s defenders.

Aragorn had no time to dwell on the moment for the battle was far from won and the campaign on the plains had merely shifted behind the walls of the city. From this point onwards, the city of Edoras would be under siege as the Uruk Hai army beyond its wall assailed it. The warriors of Rohan who were not injured were scrambling up ladders against the wall while those who were, took the longer route through the gates.

"Legolas, once inside, we must get to the wall again. We will need to shorten the numbers before they forced their way into the city," Aragorn stated firmly.

"That may not be as easy as previously thought," Legolas said grimly as they passed through the gates. "Many Uruk Hai fell in battle on the plain but they fight as if they have nothing to lose."

"Of course!" Faramir grunted in pain. "We have driven them to the wilderness, we have destroyed their master. What are they but purposeless and outcast? Their very creation was for the waging of war and destruction. What do they have now that Sauron is gone? They may very well be fighting in this manner because there is nothing else."

"You may be right," Aragorn declared and silently thought that Faramir was right, his observation did seem astute.

Unfortunately, there was little time to give the matter further thought because the night was far from over.

************

After leaving Faramir to the healers that were waiting on hand to tend the casualties come off the line; Aragorn and Legolas hurried to the wall perimeter of the city. As they did so, they saw the casualties filing past them as soldiers carried comrades through the gates, with a multitude of injuries ranging from broken bones to severed limbs. Some of those being carried in, Aragorn observed were already dead; the friends who had ferried this far were driven by desperate hope. The king felt his heart aching from their pain, grateful that so far none of his friends had fallen in battle, although seeing Faramir hit by an arrow had driven the sense from his mind. The scene appeared too much like how Aragorn had found Boromir.

The rain had abated much to Aragorn’s dismay. He knew what form the attack upon the city would take and what they needed most was a downpour. Reaching the wall, he saw that most of the surviving soldiers from the battle of the plains were still climbing over it. Among these, were Gimli, Elladan, Haldir and Pallando. The rain had not washed away the blood streaking down Gimli’s face from the helmet and Elladan’s lip appeared split. Haldir was moving gingerly, indicating that he was injured in a place none could see. Pallando seemed in one piece though Aragorn did not think the same of the Uruk Hai who had attempted to assault a wizard. Even Legolas was sporting a nasty bruise on the pale skin of his face. Aragorn had his own injuries but he ignored it.

When he reached the wall, he saw that Rohirrim were riding through the Uruk Hai, like a shepherd herding his flock, keeping the Uruk Hai from pursuing their own towards the wall. Some of the horses were riderless and leaving the battlefield. He could not see which was Eomer but he hoped that one of these horses would not be his. He had no wish to report to Eowyn that her brother had fallen in battle like her father. The last of Rohan’s army were clambering up the wall and Aragorn saw no reason to delay giving the signal for the Rohirrim to withdraw, having done all they could to see to it that their comrades were able to retreat safely behind the wall. Holding his lips to the horn again, he blew loudly, issuing the signal that sliced through the air and gave an unspoken order for the Rohirrim to withdraw into the city.

The effect of the sound could be seen across the battlefield as the riders of Rohan began pulling away from the Uruk Hai hordes. Aragorn watched them for a moment but he could not waste any more time and in anticipation of what would soon follow, they had to prepare for the next phase of battle.

"Wizard," Aragorn spoke first to Pallando, "when the order for the Rohirrim to withdraw is heard, those Uruk Hai are going to come for us and the most effective weapon at their disposal; fire. We need rain. We need it heavy before they burn us to the ground."

"Aragorn, the rain will make it exceedingly hard to fight them," Elladan pointed out.

"We need to hold the city," Aragorn turned on him sharply. "If we do not hold the city, then this battle is lost already. They will try burn us out from behind these walls if they cannot breach it!"

"He is right, " Legolas declared grimly. "They will come in waves, one to breach the wall and the others who will act as archers."

"I will do what I can," Pallando answered, understanding the urgency of the situation. "However, I dare not risk exerting too much power because I must keep a vigil for this Hunter. He still has not shown his face."

"He does not need to," Aragorn retorted. "There are still enough Uruk Hai to kill us all without his requiring to take a direct hand in the matter."

"We cannot allow it to come after you," Legolas stated with enough determination in his voice to indicate that on this matter, Aragorn’s kingship was going to sway him little. "Your fate is bound with that of Middle earth and of the Evenstar, you know that."

Aragorn swallowed thickly, remembering Arwen and feeling exceedingly ashamed that in all this carnage he had forgotten her. More than anything he wanted to ride away from here and get to Imladris so that he could retrieve her from her fate but he was king and his people needed him. He had to stay here until this was all done and he needed to ensure that his life, no matter how unimportant he thought it to be, was guarded as fiercely as the city he was trying to save.

"Do what you can without taxing yourself too much wizard," Aragorn said finally, conceding defeat and swearing a silent oath to kill the Hunter for forcing him into this position.

"I will do what I can to protect you and Edoras," Pallando replied gently, knowing that it was not easy for Aragorn to place himself before his people. The genuine torment on his face at the decision told Pallando that while Aragorn lived, the wizard would pledge his service to this good king.

Aragorn nodded and turned to the others once more, "the rest of us to the edge of the wall. Gimli, you should aid the soldiers to defend the wall when the Uruk Hai attempt to climb it. The rest of us will use our archery skills to stop as many of them as we can before they actually reach the wall."

All were in agreement of this and they hurried to the wall overlooking the plains where their battle had begun and saw the Uruk Hai already crossing the distance between them, with ladders, long spears and rope. Aragorn, Legolas, Haldir and Elladan immediately found themselves each a bow and loaded themselves with as many arrows as they could carry, all the while their eyes watching the enemy advancing beneath them. In the distance, he saw a thin line of Uruk Hai forming and he knew precisely what was happening. The Uruk Hai archers were lining up to begin an aerial assault of the city, their arrows heads coated with swaddling laden with oil to ensure that not even rain was going to douse the flame that would soon ignite it.

The archers of Rohan were already forming a line of their own, standing tall as they held their bows and prepared to take aim at the approaching Uruk Hai. Once again, they looked to Aragorn’s signal to act in unison as the archers took up position with Legolas and Elladan flanking him, Aragorn gave the same battle cry as the Uruk Hai closed in.

"FIRE!" His voice escaped him like a mighty roar, with more demand than even the horn was capable of producing.

A wall of arrows flew through the air, coming down upon the enemy like a deadly rain. Some dropped in their tracks into the mud, others hurt forged on nonetheless, their battle cry was defiant as unyielding. Those who fell with ladders were quickly replaced and the dark swarm continued its deadly advance.

"AT WILL!" Aragorn called out again and instigated an unending barrage of arrows to fly through the air from the fortress walls.

Across the battlefield, a similar order was being given and Aragorn and the company stood firm as they saw the arrows coming towards them from the Uruk Hai’s archers. He did not flinch, as the sharp point rushed to meet them in retaliation for this was a game of whom would run first and Aragorn did not intend it to be him. Instead, he continued as the others did, firing their arrows for as long as they were able. Enemy arrows struck some of the defending line and Aragorn could not ignore the bodies that toppled to the ground or backwards in death. He himself was forced to duck and avoid arrows flying at him. Some were enflamed and some were not. The ones that were inflamed sailed over their heads for they were not the intended targets. Aragorn looked over his shoulder to see a roof covered with hay burst into flames. The oil and peat use for sealing igniting easily.

His distraction cost him.

The arrow spearing through his thigh caught him by surprise and he let out a soft groan of pain as he staggered and almost fell.

"Aragorn!" Legolas caught him before he could fall.

"I am alright!" He groaned as the elf dragged him away from the edge.

"You are wounded!" Legolas returned in exasperation as they took refuge behind the beacon.

"I cannot be!" Aragorn snapped, his face grimacing in pain as he saw the arrow protruding from his leg.

"Shall I let you drop as well?" The elf retorted in exasperation.

Aragorn gave him a look and sucked in his breath. "Pull it out."


Legolas’ face showed his shock. "No, not like this!"


"I do not care! I order you to do it!" He fairly snarled at the prince.

"You have no power to order me King of Gondor," Legolas declared firmly. "I follow your lead because you are my friend."

"Then be my friend," Aragorn stared at him. "Do as I ask. I have to be on that line. You know as well as I do that there must be a leader on the field of battle and until Eomer is able to do so, it must be me."

Legolas’ shoulder sagged, as he understood that Aragorn was right. He had to lead this battle because he was king and while the king could fight so would the rest of his people be compelled to do so.

"Alright," the Prince of Mirkwood said quietly, his face clearly unhappy at being forced into this position. "I will do as you ask."

"Thank you," Aragorn replied gratefully, his hand clenching around Legolas’ arm as the elf laid his hands upon the shaft of the arrow.

"Prepare yourself," Legolas replied, aware of how painful this was going to be.

Aragorn nodded and closed his eyes, steeling himself for the pain that was going to come. Legolas’ breath became shallow as if he needed to brace himself for this as much as Aragorn. He took a firm hold of the shaft and with a great heave, tore it from Aragorn’s leg. No amount of resolve was going to keep the scream from escaping Aragorn when the arrow was forced from his leg and the sound made Legolas flinched as if the elf was suffering the same agony. Aragorn’s fingers dug into Legolas’ skin so hard that blood but might have been drawn but neither seemed to notice.

No sooner then Aragorn’s body had relaxed as the worst of the pain subsided; Legolas was finding something to bind the wound. A strip of fabric torn from clothing was soon being wrapped around Aragorn’s leg. The king’s body was limp and his breathing soft as he recovered from the ordeal. When he opened his eyes, he stayed Legolas’ hand a moment and examined the wound briefly. It was as Aragorn suspected, not as severe as the one that had impaled Faramir when it had lodged itself between bone.

"It is a flesh wound," Aragorn replied as he let his hand drop away and allow Legolas to tend him. "I will live."

"I will take your word for it," Legolas replied as he resumed binding the wound.

Rain started to come down even more heavily and both man and elf shifted their gaze at the fire burning across some of the roof. Pallando was in the courtyard below, his arms outstretched towards the heavens while his staff held high over his head as he uttered incomprehensible words that none recognized but was having clear effect upon the weather. Blue white steaks of lightning flashed across the sky, provoking the charged air to respond with rumbling thunder that impacted upon all their ears. The raindrops that had been teeming without any vigor were now rushing down to earth with robust momentum.

Relief flooded through Aragorn as he saw the fires being extinguished and knew that for a moment at least he could rest a little.

************

Across the field, something large was moving through the mud.

Its pace was large and powerful, leaving indents in the ground as it surged across the battlefield, shirking off arrows that was killing its army around it. It crossed the bodies on the plain without a second glance for its purpose was clear. It moved in a world of shadows far darker than any that might have been cast on this night and even the Uruk Hai who fought for it was unable to see it moving past them, beyond feeling his dark presence.

At first he had been contented to wait out the battle to see if the men of Rohan and the King of Gondor would prevail against the Uruk Hai hordes that had besieged the city. If the city was not burnt to the ground with everyone in it, the Hunter would have intervened and finished the King of Gondor and all his companions. The destruction would appear to all as if it were the work of the Uruk Hai and no suspicion would fall upon his master Eol who be able to take his queen to his city and be forgotten. If word of it reached the other kingdoms, it would serve just as equally to remind them of what power they faced. However, the complication in all this had been the presence of the Maiar spirit named Pallando.

The coming of the rain ensured that the siege would be hampered and the Hunter could not have that. The destruction of Edoras was no matter for debate, it simply had to be and the interference of the Maiar was complicating matters greatly. This could not be allowed and the Hunter found that it was time to make his move and deal with the Istar himself.

**************

Elladan lowered his bow.

Haldir beside him felt it too.

Below them, they could see something moving through the bodies of Uruk Hai, shunting them aside as it made its way to the base of the wall. The Uruk Hai had reached the fortress walls and were now attempting to climb to the top with their ladders and ropes. Gimli and the soldiers of Edoras was making this a most difficult attempt what with the dwarf’s axes biting at the ropes that attempted to secure themselves to the edge, or hacking apart the ladders and the Uruk Hai who managed to reach the top. Ladders were being toppled over, sending the construct and the Uruk Hai crashing to the muddy ground. Hot oil splashed onto the others as converged at the base of the wall, eliciting screams of agony and dying.

However, what was ploughing through the Uruk Hai had no need of any of this. It scaled the wall easily, needing neither rope nor ladder and had no fear of oil or arrows.

"It is here!" Elladan left the line of archers and hurried along the wall, seeking out the Hunter whose journey through the shadow world allowed him to remain unseen.

"Where is Aragorn?" Haldir demanded, searching for the king and seeing him taking refuge not far away while Legolas tended him.

"He needs to be warned!" Elladan declared.

"You go!" Haldir grabbed his arm and halted his progress. "I will face this creature that killed my brother."

"This is not the time vengeance!" Elladan glared at the march warden with all the fury that was afforded an heir of Eärendil. "Go and protect the king NOW!"

Haldir was taken back by the force of that order and found that he could not disobey. For when it was all said and done, this was the son of Elrond, a prince of Imladris and by right of rank, Haldir was to conditioned to obey to refuse him. Without saying a word, the captain of Celeborn’s guard hurried to carry out Elladan’s order.

Once he was gone, Elladan sought out Gimli. He was not so foolish as to believe that he could take this beast alone, if he could take it at all. However, he was not going to let the Hunter murder his sister’s husband the way it had done Orophin Aragorn was not merely Evenstar’s mate, he was Elladan’s friend. With Elrohir, they had rode together for more years than some had lived, killing orcs and preparing for the day when prophecy would see Sauron’s destruction fulfilled.

"Master Dwarf!" Elladan grabbed Gimli as he brought his axe down on yet another length of rope.

"I am a little busy!" Gimli retorted as he ran along the wall a little way and slammed his axe through the neck of a Uruk Hai reaching the edge before shoving the dead body and the ladder away from the stone.

"The Hunter is here!" Elladan declared and captured Gimli’s undivided attention.

"Where?" Gimli demanded as he followed Elladan past the line of warriors defending the wall.

Elladan did not need to answer for suddenly, a great force swept up the wall, knocking over a ladder full of Uruk Hai as it scaled the wall. Th walkway along the wall seemed to shudder as something heavy landed against it. The soldiers standing close by were flung through the air by something unseen. They uttered a cry as the landed in the courtyard, their bodies impacting hard against the stone. The force of their landing killed them instantly and Gimli’s stomach hollowed as he saw blood pooling under the fallen.

"I cannot see him!" Gimli exclaimed, wanting badly to attack the beast that had sent their comrades to such a terrible end.


"He walks in the shadow world," Elladan explained as his senses gave him a clear sense of where the Hunter was. "He cannot be seen unless he chooses it."

"But the rain does not hide him!" Gimli said excitedly, "look!"

A shimmer of water that did not appear to be rain was moving across the walkway. The moisture allowed Elladan and Gimli to see a creature of great stature and speed leaping off the edge of the wall onto the courtyard below. While the Hunter might have been able to remain invisible, he could not conceal the mass of his body. The rain Pallando had brought down upon them had robbed the beast of his cloak of invisibility and the disadvantage was one Gimli was not going to squander. Knowing that it would not take long for him to find Aragorn, Gimli threw caution to the winds and ran forward, leaping from the edge to figure shrouded in water.

"GIMLI!" Elladan shouted in horror as he saw the dwarf surging towards the beast.

Gimli was not listening. With his axe in his hand, he intended to do as much damage as he could before the creature cast him off. He could feel its skin beneath him as he landed on the Hunter’s back even though it looked as if he were being suspended in mid air. Wasting no time for the Hunter was already moving to remove him, Gimli swung the axe in his hand and struck flesh. The Hunter tensed beneath him, as if registering the pain but unhindered by it. Gimli pulled the axe from the beast’s body, more than prepared to bury the blade in the creature’s skull when he felt something grasping its thick fingers around his back.

The dwarf was lifted over the Hunter’s head and dangled in front of the beast as it regarded him after Gimli’s attack.

"What do you think I should do with you, Aule’s little dirt digger?" A menacing voice hissed as the rain slick face stared at him.

"Let me have at you again so I can split your skull apart!" Gimli growled in typical dwarf defiance.

The Hunter began to shudder with laughter but what amusement he found in the dwarf was soon ended when an arrow sliced through the air and embedded itself where the beast’s hand would have been. The surprise of the attack forced the Hunter to relinquish his hold on Gimli and the dwarf tumbled unceremoniously into the mud as the beast turned around to face the archer who had struck him with the arrow. Yanking the projectile from its hand, it tossed the arrow aside as he faced Elladan who had reached the ground and was facing the Hunter boldly.

"I told you beast I would kill you," Elladan said coldly.

"Little prince," the hunter’s rain covered form appeared before Elladan. "You do not have the Golden Wood to protect you now."

"I do not need the Golden Wood to protect me," Elladan declared bolder than he thought himself possible after the fear this creature inspired in him during his flight from Imladris and even at this moment. "Nor will I allow you to harm my kinsmen."

"You will not allow?" The Hunter stared at him, his eyes narrowing malevolently. "Do not mistake courage for ability little prince."

Elladan raised his bow to shoot again. "Withdraw or suffer the consequences."

"You are priceless," the Hunter laughed menacingly as he approached Elladan, his sword brandished in preparation to attack. "Spine is something so rare in your kind. I suppose it must have grown while I was away."

The Hunter raised his weapon to strike when Elladan heard Gimli voice.

"Prince, catch!" the dwarf called out and Elladan saw and axe being thrown at him. Elladan caught it with one hand and used the weapon to block the mighty sword that would have killed him where he stood as it had done Orophin. As it was, it shattered the axe in his hand as the force of the blow sent him to the ground.

Elladan struggled to get to his feet when suddenly, the Hunter was no longer interested in him. The beast was looking beyond him and for an instant, Elladan thought that the wretched creature had spotted Aragorn. However, it was not Aragorn that had captured the Hunter’s attention so completely. Elladan scrambled to his feet and saw Pallando approaching them slowly. The wizard’s expression was as stone and the Hunter moved stealthily towards him. The arrogance of his earlier advance was gone and Elladan suspected that the Hunter actually considered the Istar a threat.

"You do not belong in this time," Pallando said as he and the Hunter stood before each other.

"I am here nonetheless," the beast responded. "You interfere with matters that do not concern you. Leave now and I will not harm you."

"You cannot harm me either way," Pallando declared. "If you could, I would already be dead. You are not a creature that barters with its victims. You offer me escape because you cannot harm me. I reiterate the offer made by the prince, withdraw or suffer the consequences."

The Hunter’s response was to swing his heavy sword against the wizard. Pallando was ready for the attack and raised his own sword to counter the attack. The hunter’s strength should have destroyed the sword but there was more in the steel of Pallando’s weapon then just the wizard’s resolve, there was also the latent power of all Istari that was concealed in the benign guise of the old men that they appeared. The large blade struck the wizard’s sword and recoiled as if it had no power over the Istar. The Hunter bellowed in rage and slipped into its shadow form again. Disappearing completely, Pallando searched quickly for its shape in the rain but this was difficult to do because his attention to the Hunter had taken his concentration from ensuring a downpour. The light teeming rain was not enough for Pallando to see where the beast was.

"Where is he?" Aragorn demanded as the king of Gondor hobbled onto the scene.

"Get away from here!" Pallando hissed. "It is not safe!"

"I will not allow you to face this threat alone!" Aragorn declared, brandishing Anduril and showing Pallando that he would not budge. Beside him was Legolas, who bow was strung with an arrow, awaiting only the appearance of a target before it would fly. Haldir was standing by the king but the elf was having a good deal of difficulty keeping himself restrained from rushing into battle with the murderer of his brother.

"Nor will you," Elladan and Gimli joined the king and the four warriors stood before Pallando determined to aid the wizard, even if their help was merely the strength of their support.

"How touching, you can die with him then, " a voice spoke that was none of theirs and suddenly Pallando was flying through the air.

"Wizard!" Aragorn shouted, trying to see where the attack had come but the Hunter remained cloak and hidden from their eyes.

Pallando landed hard on the ground, his hand still clutching his sword. His body ached in pain but there was a moment of clarity when he could sense great danger coming towards him. Instinctively, he raised his sword once more and the clanging of steel could be heard even if the enemy could not be seen. Pallando’s stand immediately gave Haldir something to aim at. His arrow flew through the air and struck at something he could not see but knew to be there because the arrow appeared floating above the ground as it became lodged within the Hunter’s flesh. The injury hardly registered and suddenly Pallando was lifted off the ground as the beast discarded the battle with the sword and chose a more direct method of assault.

Aragorn rushed forward, preparing to sink Anduril in the creature’s flesh as the wizard was pulled upwards, his hands clutching his throat. Although his leg burned with pain, Aragorn would let no one stop him as he slashed at the space beneath Pallando, knowing full well that something had to be holding him. Whether or not he struck flesh remained a mystery but he was soon struck by a powerful fist and sent sprawling. He landed hard on the rock, feeling something snap beneath him as his skin touched the ground and knew it to be one of his ribs.

Haldir had grabbed a spear and was rushing to the beast when it snapped in half just as Haldir reached it. There was a second of confusion on the elf’s face as his senses warned him of impending danger and he realized that the Hunter had turned his attention briefly from Pallando. He stepped away just in time to feel a blade slice down his arm. Haldir let out a groan of pain as his shoulder was torn open, his tunic soaked in blood in a matter of second. His arm felt useless at his side and he could no longer hold what was left of the spear. The beast chose to appear before the march warden at that moment, still clutching Pallando with one hand like a doll.

"You look like your brother," the Hunter sneered as he stared at Haldir who was struggling to find another weapon.

"Do not speak of my brother, you foul beast!" Haldir hissed.

"He was weak," the Hunter hissed, wishing to torment the elf before his death. "I tore him apart with one flick of my blade. Tell me, do you think your body will rupture as his did?"

"Will yours?" Pallando suddenly spoke despite his position of disadvantage. A dark shadow seemed to fall over the wizard at that instant and froze all of them with fear as they saw something in him that they had only seen once before. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas recognized the glint in Pallando’s eyes all too clearly. It was the same look of fury that Gandalf had worn just before the Balrog of Moria discovered what it was to inspire the wrath of an Istar.

There was a split second of silence when suddenly the Hunter was flung away from the wizard like a child’s toy. Pallando dropped to the ground upon being released as the beast smashed into a wall with such force, his body broke away some of the rock from which it was made. The Hunter struggled to its feet, its misshapen face contorting with bald rage as it shook its disorientation away. Aragorn surmised that it was probably the first time the beast had received pain instead of dispensing it. It ran towards Pallando, brandishing it blade and threatening to strike at the wizard again.

"I will destroy you wizard!" the Hunter growled like the animal it was

"You will destroy nothing!" Pallando returned sharply, "and you will leave now!"

Without further adieu, Pallando held up his staff and uttered words that none could hear but the effect was immediate. A bolt of lightning cackled perilously above their heads as Pallando aimed the staff at the beast approaching him rapidly and directed the charge of energy towards the Hunter. The explosion of white heat caused the Hunter to howl in pain, like an animal braying at the moon in the dead of night. Its body contorted in pain as the power of the lightning strike surged through him and hearing its scream brought surprising comfort to those who were present for that meant it could be hurt. In the midst of its pain, the Hunter turned to Aragorn and flung his sword at the high king.

"ARAGORN!" Legolas cried out as the weapon speared through the air towards him.

Pallando saw the Hunter’s blade about to take the king’s life and immediately ceased his attack upon the beast. With less than a split second to act between the time the Hunter had hurled his weapon and it reaching Aragorn who was diving out of the way, Pallando directed his power at the flying blade, sending it immediately off course. The large sword struck the ground harmlessly short of where Aragorn had been standing before he wisely chose to get clear. Pallando let out a breath of relief at having prevented a tragedy before turning his quarry once more.

However, when he did so, the Hunter was gone.

"Where is he?" Gimli demanded.

"It left," Elladan spoke in a voice full of astonishment. "It retreated."

"It did not have a choice," Legolas looked at the wizard with admiration. "It was beaten."

"I surprised it," Pallando replied, not eager to claim triumph. "It will not remain that way."

"You saved my life wizard," Aragorn said gratefully, "but this night is over yet."

And as he spoke those words, his eyes moved to the wall where the Uruk Hai was still fighting to breach the walls and the dawn to all of them, seemed very far away.


Chapter 7 - Aftermath

They were battered and bruised but they could not stop.

The Hunter’s withdrawal had done nothing to abate the Uruk Hai lust for destruction and if Aragorn had hoped that in the wake of their master’s retreat, they too might abandon the desire to take Edoras, then he was sadly mistaken. When Sauron had been destroyed, the Uruk Hai had scattered quickly, stunned perhaps by the defeat of the dark lord and rudderless because they were creatures of obedience to the master that held their leash. No such confusion was present now as Aragorn and his companions faced the murderous horde of Uruk Hai doing their best to breach the walls of Edoras.

Against the dark gray sky, spears pierced the air as their tips rose past the walls, an erratic display of sharp and bloody points because some had already known the taste of flesh. Beneath them, their Uruk Hai masters scaled the walls on their ladders and rope, the decreasing rain allowing them to make the journey fast swifter than before. Amidst the sound of clanging steel and the cries of the pain when blade met flesh was the low rumbling drone of Uruk Hai blood lust, which had more power to strike fear into the hearts of the army assembled against it, then the beasts themselves.

For a moment he could only stare as he saw the men of Rohan fighting valiantly to defend the wall, their swords swinging at the enemy, cutting down many before they could cross over the edge into the walkway. They did this whilst battling arrows that came flying through the air from the ground, propelled by the malice of the enemy archers. They did nothing to avoid the arrows for it was not possible to protect oneself against this evil and still maintain a suitable defense. And so some of them fell, knowing defeat only when the arrow had pierced a place that could not be ignored. He saw men fighting on even though they were bloodied and wounded, their faces etched in grim determination at refusal to cede, no matter what. Aragorn thought of Boromir and how his friend had fallen and knew that these soldiers would do the same.

He was never prouder to be leading them then at that moment.

The pain in his side was nagging at him and the sharp jaggedness he felt scrapping the inside of his flesh was no doubt a broken bone but he could not seek shelter in the House of Healing, not yet. Not when he was needed so desperately. Gripping Anduril in his hand, he limped forward, his face becoming hard and set, his eyes draining of all thought except winning the day. The Uruk Hai would not take Edoras, not while there was breath in his body, not until someone took Anduril from his cold, dead hand. The pain was shunted aside, buried in some place so deep in his mind, that it would not affect him.

"Come," Aragorn, said firmly to those following him. "Let us finish this."

Legolas knew better than to argue with the king when he was in this state of mind. Legolas had seen him like this when he had entered the Paths of the Dead. If the souls of dead warriors could not ignore Aragorn, then Legolas did not think anything he said would have made any difference to the king at this moment. In truth, he had no words to say himself because he wanted this night to end. Removing his daggers from behind him, he matched Aragorn’s determined stride and noted from the corners of his eye that Gimli had snatched an axe to replace the one that was destroyed by the Hunter when Elladan wielded it.

The others followed the king in similar stead. They were all in one way or another injured from the battle but like Aragorn, had shunted the pain aside to deal with the greater threat. The company moved together like a small army of their own and those who saw them advanced upon the wall were suddenly renewed with hope at victory over the enemy. Striding purposefully onto the front line of the battle, his arrival was noticed by the soldiers struggling against the enemy and seeing Aragorn appear, with the sword of Elendill in his hand filled their hearts with hope and new purpose. Aragorn held the weapon high above his head, carrying it as he would a banner, using the weapon that took Sauron’s ring from his hand as rallying cry for the battle.

"Hold the wall!" Aragorn shouted loudly, "let them breach it at their own peril! We will allow none of their kind to sully the realm of Edoras!"

Those who were not fighting shouted their approval and as Aragorn saw the fire burning in their eyes as they turned to face the enemy again. The despair of defeat had drained from them and there was blood hatred in their attacks, inspired by the arrival of their leader. Aragorn took a deep breath and hurried to the wall, where Uruk Hai spears were impaling some of the soldiers, allowing the beasts to slip through the newly created opening. The king saw the hooked sword of an Uruk Hai warrior take the life of one of his men and felt his rage inspired into a proper fury as he ran forward swinging the blade hard.

He came upon the enemy so swiftly that the Uruk Hai had only time to look up before Anduril sliced through his stomach. The enemy roared, doubling over as a boot crunched his jaw and sent him reeling backwards, over the edge. Aragorn watch the body toppled into the darkness below and dodged and arrow coming towards him. In the distance he could see the Uruk Hai archers firing their barrage at the wall and he wondered briefly how many they were before he saw Legolas hurrying to the edge, his daggers forgotten as the elf saw where best he could serve. Aragorn saw that the bow he carried now was not provided by the armory of Edoras but the weapon given to Legolas by Galadriel during the quest to destroy the ring.

Legolas fired into the thickest part of the bodies, stripping the Uruk Hai from the wall with each arrow shot. The Uruk Hai attempting to reach him bellowed in fury as Gimli hacked away at them, keeping them from impeding the archer as he did his worst. Further along, Aragorn saw Haldir slicing through the enemy with his sword, one of his arms bound tightly to his side as he fought. Elladan was aiming his arrows towards the archers in the distance, with skill possessed only by those of the First Born. Pallando was putting out the fires spreading across the city by bringing down the rain again.

The battle continued into the night as the defenders of the city held fast and determinedly against the intruders. Aragorn did not know how long they fought, knowing only that many were dead from their efforts. Bodies began to pile on either side of the wall, some were Uruk Hai and some were of Rohan. There came a time when they were so numerous that it was no longer possible to tell which was which. The men of Rohan fought, as they had not since the battle of Hornburg and Pelennor Fields, with such fierce determination that it was impossible to not be moved by their courage.

They were forcing themselves to keep fighting, some by sheer will and with the swing of their blades and by the flight of their arrows, Aragorn could see they were fighting two battles; one against the enemy and the other against exhaustion. During the course of the night, the Uruk Hai had slipped past them and entered the city but the valiant defense ensured that these were too few too cause defeat and they were quickly beset upon by those charged with protecting the civilian population of Edoras. Aragorn himself did not know how many faces he had put to the sword but he knew that Anduril was never free of fresh Uruk Hai blood. He stood on the wall for most of the night, refusing to retreat because he did not know where Eomer was and that worried him a great deal. Aragorn had no wish to tell Eowyn that her brother had fallen.

Pallando had now joined them on the wall for the arrows had stopped coming with the rain and the archers that had assailed them appeared to have disappeared for the moment. Legolas had put away his bow and was now fighting the Uruk Hai with daggers. As always, Gimli fought at his side, playing their macabre game of rising body counts. Like all of them, the elven prince was showing his exhaustion and Aragorn knew for a fact that he was injured far worse then he had revealed. Haldir on the other hand could not hide his injury but it was sheer will that was forcing the march warden to continue the battle. Elladan was being driven by hate, that much was clear to Aragorn as he watched Elrond’s son cut his way through the Uruk Hai who had manage to climb over the walls.

With the coming of dawn, they were no closer to victory even though they had mounted what Aragorn was unashamed to say was a valiant defense. However, the prolonged battle was taking its toll upon the men of Rohan whose numbers were savagely dwindling. It was becoming very clear that there would be not enough of them to defend the city any further as the ring of Uruk Hai steel closed in on them. Aragorn felt his own reserves draining and knew that they could not hold out much longer. He saw Haldir struggling to raise his sword as two Uruk Hai set him upon, determine to finish the elven warrior once and for all. Aragorn rushed forward, shoving his body against one of the Uruk Hai and sending the beast sprawling. He slashed his sword in a neat arch and killed immediately the one who was about to deliver a death blow to Haldir who was on his knees know, his tunic was soaked with blood and his pallor was like a sheet of white.

Aragorn was about to approach Haldir when an axe flew between them, forcing both men to recoil as the weapon hurled through the air met its mark in the skull of the Uruk Hai whom Aragorn had pushed away from Haldir. For a minute Aragorn thought it was Gimli who had saved his life but then looked up to see Faramir approaching, one of his arms were in a sling but the other was fit enough to aid his king. Aragorn did not wait for Faramir to approach because Haldir needed help and immediately. He dropped to his knees to help the elven warrior to the house of healing.

"Leave me here," Haldir argued. "I would rather die fighting."

"You are no more use to me here," Aragorn retorted, having no time for this argument. "I do not intend to have the blood of your long life on my hands – besides I will need you when I go to retrieve the Evenstar."

Haldir did not speak because he was worse then he cared to show and the loss of blood was hindering his ability to think clearly. Thoughts crowded in on his head as disorientation beset him with only flashes of images in his mind registering at all.

"Should I die," he muttered, "tell the Lady Melia that my last thoughts were of her."

Aragorn stared for a moment at Haldir in gentle surprise, instinctively looking up to see where Legolas was at the mention of Melia’s name. He wondered if the prince knew and suspected that Legolas probably did not if Haldir was telling him this because the elf thought he was about to die.

"You will tell the lady yourself," Aragorn responded as he pulled Haldir away to safety, although there were not many places left in Edoras that could truly be called that. The best that he could manage was one of the sheltered sentry positions.

"Tell her Legolas was braver than I," Haldir continued to speak incoherently. "I could not bring myself to do what he did."

Aragorn did not understand but he did not wish too. This was Haldir’s private affair, spoken only because the loss of so much blood was starting to addle his mind, coupled with the exhaustion of forcing himself to fight when there was no strength left in him. Aragorn was rather surprised he had lasted this long and could not help feeling admiration for the elf as he started to slip into unconsciousness. Aragorn left him there alone, deciding that he would keep Haldir’s words to himself because no doubt if the elf survived this, he was not going to be pleased that Aragorn knew of the feelings he harbored for Legolas’ wife.

"Does he still live?" Faramir asked Aragorn upon reaching the king.

"For now," Aragorn said grimly before turning a concerned eye toward the Prince of Ithilien. "Should you not be at the House of Healing?"

"Why?" Faramir asked as he turned his gaze upon the battle they were losing. "I would rather face my death here at your side then in the House of Healing if Edoras is taken by these vile beasts."

"That may come sooner than you think," Aragorn replied as they returned to the fighting. "We cannot hold them back for much longer."

"We will give them a good fight before they take us," Faramir said boldly, meeting his king’s gaze and telling him in that one look that he would stand by his king no matter what Aragorn chose to do.

As he stepped to the edge, the rest of the company gathered about him, anticipating his orders as they continued to fight this desperate battle. Aragorn swept his gaze at the faces assembled and saw that they knew defeat was eminent; Edoras was lost despite their valiant struggle to save it. Aragorn did not know what he despised the worst, the fact that his friends would die with him or that Arwen would to be Eol’s whore because of this failure. He thought of Eldarion who would lose not only one parent this night but both and prayed that the child would understand that was took place was unavoidable.

"We will hold the line for as long as we can," Aragorn spoke to those before him. "And take as many of them with us. Whatever happens when we fall, I do not know but we will go to the end with honor."

"And with as many of their heads at our feet as possible!" Gimli rumbled fearlessly, not about to let talk of death dampen his proud spirit. "What say you elf?" He turned to Legolas, "shall we play our game one final time?"

Legolas gave the dwarf a little smile and nodded. "I think I can accommodate you, Master Dwarf."

"We may yet survive this," Pallando remarked, not at all liking this defeatist mood that had fallen the company.

"We may," Elladan agreed, "and if we may not. However, if my last act in this world is to kill an orc, I can think of worse ways in which to pass."

And with that, Aragorn stepped forward, grateful that his friends were at his side as he raised Anduril above his head, its blade catching the faint glimmer of light that came from the rising sun and prepared for his final battle. He was about to utter a final battle cry when suddenly, another sound filled the air before he could speak. It was loud and blaring, moving through the air like the wail of a sea creature. It captured their attention singularly, not merely those who were defending the city but also those who were attempting to breach it. The horn sang its song and as Aragorn stared across the plain, he saw that there was something moving swiftly across the horizon towards them.

Seconds past as they watched in anticipation of what was approaching and then suddenly, the rumble of hooves could be heard against the ground, the relentless pounding of horses at full gallop filling their ears with its sweet sound. If the sight of the Uruk Hai army had been terrible indeed when first sighted, then this new vision was the most magnificent that they had ever seen.

"It is the Riders of the Mark!" A voice shouted in excitement.

The Rohirrim thundered across the field, their battle cry so fierce and loud that even the Uruk Hai were forced to look at them in fear as hundred of riders raised their swords, preparing to deliver grim death upon those who would attack their capital city. Aragorn watched them closely and saw Eomer leading them. The King of Mark appeared to be well though the evidence of the battle he had fought had marked him well. Eomer’s face was covered with streaks of blood, some of which Aragorn wagered was not his own. When he raised his sword, leading the famed Riders of the Mark towards the Uruk Hai forces, there was not one person who saw him that was not moved to victory as they rushed forward and faced the enemy.

The timely arrival of the Riders of the Mark renewed the defenders on the wall with a surge of hope so strong that nothing could stand in their way as they fell upon the Uruk Hai without mercy. The fighting continued as the dawn broke across the land and though some still fell in the onslaught of destruction, the tide had well and truly turned in their favor. The Rohirrim fell upon the rear of the enemy, cutting their numbers as they quickly enclosed the walls of Edoras. Very soon, the Uruk Hai found themselves fighting a battle on two fronts and while the earlier was not as formidable as it had been at the onset of the conflict, the new arrivals proved to be devastating in their advance.

The battle continued a little while longer but soon the enemy that had not died in the field or at the foot of Edoras’ walls or within it had fled for their lives. The deserters however, never made good their escape for the Rohirrim who were outraged by the attack upon the city of their king, cut them down mercilessly. As the new day dawned upon all of them, there was joy at surviving the long night but their victory was short lived for in the wake of any battle, there was work to be done even when the fighting was over. The celebration could wait.

It was time to bury the dead.

*************

Aragorn would only report to the House of Healing when Eomer had returned to his city.

Earlier that night, the King of Rohan following the signal to withdraw, had left some of his men to deal with the Uruk Hai archers while he rode to West Emnet, knowing that reinforcements was the only hope of saving his city and his friends. The journey would have taken days if it were not for the foresight of the Marshall of the Mark who upon realizing that the threat to West Emnet was false, had immediately commanded the Rohirrim to return home fearing the ruse served some darker purpose he was not aware. In the end, his decision to return to Edoras proved well for all concerned for the Rohirrim encountered their king several hours before they would have arrived at the city themselves and learnt of the Uruk Hai siege.

Aragorn had no idea he could be so weary when he finally allowed healers to tend to him, even though he claimed he was more than capable of treating himself. The Elfstone was known for his ability as a healer of elvish medicine as well as King of Gondor but for the moment, he was exhausted enough to allow someone else to do for him. Fortunately, he was not injured badly. A broken rib, a speared thigh and a multitude of bruises were a small price compared to those who had lost their lives. However, as he gazed about the room where most of his company was being treated, he knew that it would be many days before they could leave Edoras again.

He wished he could ride straight away for Imladris but he was in no condition to battle Eol or the Hunter in his present state. He was also not so foolish as to think that he could breach the enchantment that surrounded Imladris without help and he was not so callous to demand it of the friends who had fought so bravely today when they suffered the same ills as he. Around the large room where the lords of Middle earth were placed to be treated by the royal physicians, Aragorn saw Gimli wincing in pain as the gash created by his helmet and by his close encounter with a Uruk Hai was being treated. For a dwarf who could face a thousand orcs without flinching, Aragorn was rather surprised by how disgruntled Gimli became when faced with a nurse’s care.

Legolas was seated next to Haldir’s cot, keeping a vigil next to the march warden and Aragorn wondered if the Lord of Eden Ardhon knew how the elf felt about Melia. He wondered what it was that Haldir did not have the courage to do but dispelled the thought because it was none of his business. Haldir remained asleep, his pallor still white from the loss of blood. Aragorn was certain that if a way could be found to give Haldir some of his own, Legolas would have gladly volunteered. As it was the elf did not look so healthy himself and seemed deep in thought. No doubt, Legolas’ thought was of Melia and whether or not she was recovering from her injuries.

"It was an honor to fight at your side King of Gondor," Pallando interrupted his thoughts by taking a seat on the empty cot next to his own.

"Call me Aragorn," Aragorn replied offering Pallando a warm smile. "It is what I prefer my friends to call me."

The gesture touched the Istar who expression mirrored his surprise. "I did not do so well for you today, I should have destroyed the Hunter."


"You brought the rain down and you kept the beast from killing us all," Aragorn reminded. "That is more than enough for me."

"It has been so long," Pallando shook his head. "Do you know what it is to live your life as one thing, even though you know you have another destiny, that there is power inside you that begs usage but routine and complacency have made you forget how."

Aragorn met his eyes and replied, "it may surprise you wizard but I do know how that feels. There was a time when who I was worried me. I knew there was a destiny waiting for me but being Isildur’s heir is not merely about being king, it is falling to his weaknesses as well and that frightened me greatly."

"You speak of Isildur’s Bane," Pallando guessed. "The One Ring?"

"I feared that I would steal it from Frodo as others have tried. I thought Isildur’s blood in my veins would surely curse me to share his fate but when the moment came, I had feared it happening so much that it was inconceivable to take the ring from its bearer. When I was able to refuse it, I understood it was not because of Isildur but me. I refused the Ring; Isildur had no part in it or in me. I come from his line and his blood does flow within me, but what lies here," he touched his heart, "is mine and always will be. You are who you are wizard, you may forgotten but you know your worth and when the times comes you will remember it."

"You are too wise for someone so young," Pallando smiled. "How is that possible?"

"Those who shaped my life were wise, I merely follow what they taught me," Aragorn replied. "I do not know if you can stop this beast that awaits us in Imladris but I would have you at my side nonetheless because I know you will do all you can to help us."

"Thank you," Pallando answered genuinely grateful. Even an Istar could lose faith in himself and the events of late with the loss of Alatar, reminded Pallando most profoundly how even the a powerful immortal could err with tragic consequences, as he had done when he turned his back upon his brother.

Their discussion drew to a close somewhat abruptly with the arrival of Eomer into the room. The King of the Mark appeared to have suffered no real injury other than lacerations and bruises to the parts of his body that was not protected by mail. Eomer searched the faces before him and was clearly relieved to see Aragorn alive and well. He brushed aside the physician’s effort to aid him for the moment for he wanted to speak with Aragorn first. They had not had the chance to speak since the end of the battle since Aragorn had been busy ensuring the wounded were brought to the House of Healing while Eomer took charge of finishing what remained of the Uruk Hai threat.

"It is good to see you well my king," Eomer said as he clenched his fist around Aragorn’s in greeting as he sat down next to Pallando. "I feared that we might be too late."

"Your arrival saved us," Aragorn replied sincerely. "If you had not come when you had, it would have ended badly for us all."

"Thank you for protecting my city Aragorn," Eomer spoke softly, meeting his eyes so Aragorn could see how much emotion was behind his gratitude. "Once again, you presence in Rohan has brought us good fortune."

"I do not know how much fortune I bought you Eomer," Aragorn replied bitterly. "The dark elf instigated this attack upon Edoras because of Arwen. He sought to destroy us all to keep her. If I had not come here perhaps this would not have happened."

"I do not believe so," Pallando declared, refusing to allow Aragorn to blame himself for this. "You could not have foreseen this."

"I would agree with the wizard," Eomer added firmly. "The elf had planned this well before your arrival in Edoras. The Rohirrim had been called away to West Emnet before your arrival here. If it were not the Marshall of Riddmark’s sense in realizing there was danger, we would all be dead by now. None of us are to blame for this destruction except the author of it."

Aragorn was not so certain but he knew his inability to rest easy would remain while Arwen was in Eol’s power. "We cannot linger here for too long. If he reaches Imladris before we can retrieve her, I do not relish how long it will take us to break the enchantment he has surrounded Elrond’s city."

"I cannot conceive from what source he draw his power," Pallando declared, bewildered by how Eol was managing to accomplish all the things he had since his sudden emergence in the present day. "He was something of a sorcerer in his time but he could not even escape Turgon’s city. Where has he suddenly acquired so much power enough to command a beast like the Hunter to do his bidding?"


"I do not know wizard but what he has done to my city is considered by me and my people an act of war," Eomer spoke with unrestrained venom. "I wish you to take some of Rohirrim with you if you go Imladris. If he can summon an army to lay siege to the Golden Hall I would not underestimate what he might have waiting for you once you arrive at the elven city."

"Eomer your offer is generous but I do not know if it will be needed," Aragorn quickly replied, grateful for the King of the Mark’s kindness but reluctant to risk any more lives in this quest then had already been lost in their dealings with Eol.

"Aragorn," Eomer spoke firmly and in his tone was the Kings of the Mark, from Theoden to Eorl, proud and determined. "I will not be deterred in this course. Your life has already fallen into peril because this being you hunt has no honor in anything. He would destroy an entire city to rid himself of you and your company, such a threat to the High King makes me honor bound to do everything in my power to ensure your protection.

"I think he means it," Aragorn replied with some measure of astonishment.

"You think?" Pallando looked at him.

"You give me no choice in this," Aragorn stared at Eomer.

"I do not," Eomer said resolutely and once again Aragorn was reminded of the Third Marshall of Riddmark that he had met so long ago when he, Legolas and Gimli had been pursuing Merry and Pippin through Rohan. Eomer was always noble and proud, determined to do the right thing even if it went against duty. He had incurred Theoden’s wrath too many times in standing up for what was just and showed that a crown meant little to him if the nobler ideals were to be trampled.

"Then I accept your offer but conditionally," Aragorn answered after considering how he could accept Eomer’s assistance without compromising his own search.

"Conditionally?" Eomer stared at him through narrowed eyes.

"When I leave with the company, those you assign to me will leave two days after my departure."

"But…." Eomer started to protest before Aragorn cut him off.

"Listen to me," Aragorn said firmly with just as much authority in his voice as Eomer had used to make him accept the Rohirrim guard. "I have no idea what awaits us at Imladris but a stealthy approach would serve me best until the full threat of Eol is revealed. I cannot do that if the Rohirrim rides with me. If you do as I ask, it will allow me valuable time to assess what exactly is taking place in Imladris and how I can use the Rohirrim to retrieve my queen. I will risk no danger to her life Eomer nor will I tip my hand by approaching her prison with a small army whose presence I cannot conceal if caution and stealth is needed."

"That will ease my mind somewhat about your safety," Eomer relented, seeing the sense in the king’s words. "I wish I could go with you," he confessed.

"No," Aragorn shook his head, discounting the possibility for more reasons than Eomer knew. "You need to remain with your people. They fought bravely today and they need you. Also, if anything befalls us in Imladris, we may need your aid in escaping it."

What Aragorn did not say nor did he need to, was someone needed survive if they did not.

*************

If Aragorn feared that his delay in Edoras would cost him dearly, the King of Gondor need not have worried for the dark elf Eol found himself similarly hindered in his journey to Imladris by the prize he had stolen from Minas Tirith. Ironically, it was not by design that Arwen had brought about this delay although in hindsight and at a time much later then the present, she would consider it fortuitous that events had played out as it had. Since the departure of the Hunter from their company, Eol had been especially eager to hasten their pace to Imladris. Although he was never brutal or harsh with her, as she feared a captor might be likely to do, he had driven them relentlessly to travel as far as they could.

With little choice but to obey since she was in his power and her own physical state weakened considerably after Eldarion’s birth, Arwen attempted to keep pace with his need for distance. However it was a taxing journey for a woman who had just delivered a child and had yet to recover from it to journey across Middle earth and attempt a crossing over the Misty Mountain and it was not long before the strain began to take its toll upon her. By the time they had sailed past the woods of Lorien, Arwen’s state had made a steady decline and it was not before long before Eol had little choice but to break his journey to find shelter for the High Queen of Gondor.

They found it on the banks of the Gladden River at what remained of a ruined fishing village whose inhabitants had been destroyed by the white wolves during the Fell Winter little more than a century before the arrival of Eol and its captive. What remained of it was a curious collection of dwellings half buried in the earth like small burrows. If Arwen had been well enough to see where Eol had brought her, she might have shed some light on the nature of the folk that dwelt here but as it was, she was barely conscious upon reaching the forgotten village.

Small bones littered the ground of the ruined community as well as many graves in not far from the village itself. Eol had remembered reading something of the history of the region when assessing the best route to return to Imladris following his abduction of Arwen. He knew that more than a century ago, white wolves had plagued the area during one of Middle earth’s harshest winters. The creatures had crossed rivers that would have normally been barred to them if not for the fact that winter had turned the water to ice and allowed them passage to new territories.

From the look of the village, the wolves must have found this a ripe ground for feeding for it appeared that most of the inhabitants suffered a grisly fate if the bones and the graves he found were any indicaiton of what transpired here. In the scheme of things however, it mattered little. It served Eol well enough that the rest of Middle earth no longer remembered its existences and while he tended to Arwen, he could be assured that no one would stumble upon them, though they would do so to their utmost peril. Although Eol suspected Arwen was not mortally ill, she was nonetheless stricken with fever, having developed an infection of the blood her body was not strong enough to combat because of their arduous journey in returning to Imladris.

Eol sat at the side of his newly acquired bride to be, his hand resting upon her brow to feel the damp texture of her skin and knotted his brow, clearly unhappy at her present state of health. He had seen her become weaker each day as they traveled along the length of the Anduin and was disappointed that the woods of Lorien that was her home for so long lifted her spirits little. He supposed that she would be resistant to him for quite some time, as long as hope lingered that her king would come for her. Eol had little fear of Aragorn, the Elfstone or any of the plethora of names the man had seemed to have acquired in his lifetime.

She muttered deliriously in the height of fever, her king and her son’s name spilling from her lips like a chant to which she needed to repeat in order to remain alive. It disturbed Eol more than he cared to admit this attachment to her mortal life but he brushed it aside, remembering that it had been the same with Aredhel. She had demanded her return to Gondolin when he had ensnared her and it amused him to hear her persistence even when he was in the midst of taking her, though by then the demands had turned into sobs and finally acceptance.

When the Hunter returned to him, Eol knew that the beast had failed in the task set out for it.

Melkor had ensured that whilst in the shadow world, his creature could move through Middle earth far swifter than any beast alive so it did not surprise Eol when the Hunter found him shortly after his arrival in the village. For the first time since its tenure of service as Eol’s creature, the dark elf saw his servant flustered and unsettled. The defeat that it had suffered need not be spoken for Eol could see it in its manner and surmised that the Hunter may have encountered more than it was able to cope with at Edoras.

"They are not dead," Eol stated as he stared at the Hunter beyond the burrow home where he had left Arwen. He stood by the fire, allowing it to warm him as he stared at the beast across the flame from him in the open space in front of the dwelling.

"The Istar," the Hunter hissed. "He kept me from succeeding."

"You mean he bested you," Eol retorted without mercy or kindness. "You let a Maiar best you."

"A Maiar is nothing to take lightly. My master’s lieutenant who held this land in the thrall of darkness for two ages was also a Maiar. They have great power."

"You were not sent to defeat a Maiar," Eol returned, unwilling to accept excuses of his failure. "You were sent to kill a man and level a city. You could not even do that."

The Hunter bellowed in rage, crossing the space between itself and Eol, its huge body trampling the fire before it with little care of pain or injury as it paused before the elf, its eyes gleaming in hatred and menace.

"I use to pull the arms and legs of your kind like I would an insect," it hissed threateningly, "do not test me."

"And do not threaten me," Eol stared him down with no fear whatsoever.

Although the rest of his race were easily paralyzed with terror by this creature, Eol had no difficulty with facing the Hunter. He had brought the dark beast here from the ages past and he knew that despite the Hunter’s posturing, it was bound to serve a master. Melkor had done well by ensuring this when he was creating the demon. Still, it would not stray to remind the Hunter who commanded here as his hands began to glow slightly, a faint flicker of power to instill some well needed discipline into his servant.

"Remember that I can return you to where I found you easily enough," Eol replied. "With little more than word and thought, I can send you back to face destruction at Angband. You and the rest of your foul kind, dragons, demons, whatever other abomination Melkor chose to create in the pit can sink into the sea with the rest of Beleriand. Do not fail me again."

The Hunter snorted in outrage, rebelling against the sting of those words but having little choice but to concede that it did not wish to return to the past only to face certain doom when the Valar brought down their wrath upon his master. Here, there was little that could harm him and once Eol had his queen secured in his kingdom, he had promised the Hunter the sport of Middle earth and it was a reward the beast was most eager to partake.

The only thing that rivalled the song of the elves was the sound of their screaming.

The Hunter retreated across the fire again and lowered himself onto his haunches, like an animal sulking from its master’s lash. "Shall I return to Edoras then?" The Hunter asked after a while. "Shall I try to finish this king and his company?"

"No," Eol shook his head. "Whatever their course, they are still far behind us and should they reach Imladris before us, which I seriously doubt is possible thanks to our Uruk Hai puppets, they will not be able to breach the city either way. You will remain here at my side. The lady is ill, it will take a few days until she is recovered. When I am certain that she is well enough, we will return to her father’s city and I will see to it that the King of Gondor receives a proper welcome when he attempts to steal back his queen."

"What about the Maiar?" The Hunter rumbled.


Eol looked at the beast coldly and replied with a voice dripping with venom, "leave him to me. I will deal with the Istar."

**************

 

For Aragorn, the days following the siege of Edoras moved too slowly for his liking. Despite his inclination to ride immediately after Arwen, he knew that he could not retrieve her alone and he needed his companions with him when he confronted Eol. If it were simply a matter of his safety, he would not have cared one wit if his life was lost battling the elf but his failure would mean dooming Arwen to the consequence of remaining Eol’s slave. He would risk nothing to allow that to happen, not even if it cost him some of his pride. Thus if it was required that he wait while he and his company recovered, then that was what he would do.

In truth, they had all sustained injuries during the siege and needed some time to rest. As a healer, he understood that it was important that they regain their strength before setting out again. Haldir and Faramir was the worst of the injured and it had required his personal intervention to aid the recovery of the march warden since there were few as well versed in elvish medicine as the King of Gondor and certainly none in Edoras itself.

Haldir arm had been slashed open by the Hunter’s blade, which seemed to have vanished as mysteriously as the beast itself during their battle. A few inches more and the blade would have torn his arm away from his body and the loss of blood he had sustained was considerable. Had he been anything but Eldar, he would have died already but elves healed faster than men and with proper healing, would be well to be on his feet soon enough, though Aragorn suspected not too soon for Haldir’s liking. Faramir fared a little better for the arrow that struck him though lodged in bone had caused a minor fracture as his flesh had taken the brunt of the impact. Fortunately the wound was not unlike Aragorn’s own injury with an arrow, painful with most of the damage limited to musculature.

The wizard Pallando seemed to have escaped without severe injury of any kind and as the rest of his company rested, he lent his assistance to the folk of Edoras, aiding where he could in the convalescence of the injured and the burial of the dead. Gimli who was well enough to ride had left Edoras for the Glittering Caves with the intention of meeting the company when they resumed their journey again. Gimli had established his colony at the caverns of Helm’s Deep after the War of the Ring, having discovered it during the battle they had fought there. Since it appeared that they would not be travelling for some days, the dwarf had taken his leave of them to visit the wife who awaited him there.

Aragorn worried however about Elladan whose deep resentment of the beast called the Hunter seemed like a poison in his blood. His brother in law and dear friend, with whom he had shared many adventures in the north seemed intensely preoccupied with avenging himself against the beast for Orophin’s death. While Aragorn could understand his fury at seeing his friend die, there was something about his hatred then ran deeper than mere anger. It surprised Aragorn to realise that Elladan was angrier about the Hunter killing Orophin then he was about Arwen being taken. Although this should have upset the King of Gondor, he knew Elladan loved his sister dearly and there was good reason for it. Unfortunately, the king could not guess what that reason might be.

Two days after the siege of Edoras, a rider appeared at the gates of the city and was immediately given entry into the city. His face was well known to the people of Edoras for they had seen him once before during the end days of the War of Ring, when Aragorn had led the Rangers of the North to Dunharrow.

Upon seeing his new arrival, Eomer rejoiced at the meeting for it had been years since they had laid eyes upon each other and with the age of elves coming to a close in Middle earth, may not do so again after this day. Eomer escorted his new guest immediately to Aragorn, aware that the king felt some measure of trepidation towards one member of his company and knew that this new arrival would be the best remedy for it.

Aragorn was in the House of Healing, helping the healers there with the wounded recovering still from the battle. Though he was not entirely healthy himself, tending to others soothed slightly the need to leave Edoras immediately after Arwen in a fit of rash impulsiveness. He also wanted to see to Haldir’s condition since the elf was being extremely disagreeable, much more than was his normal character, during his convalescence.

"Haldir of Lorien," Aragorn sat himself on the cot next to the march warden’s unhappy and put aside the cane that the healer’s had insisted he use to take the weight of his injured leg as he regarded the disgruntled elf. "Must you persist in being so difficult? There are healers in this place who are more than happy to let you tend to yourself in order to keep from being in your company."

"I do not require their assistance," Haldir said sourly as he kept his gaze fixed upon the open window that gave him a view of the sky instead of the walls surrounding him.

"I am certain you think that but it is untrue," Aragorn, replied gently, aware of what burdens this elf carried within him. "You are unwell and you should rest. The chance to face the Hunter and get your vengeance upon him for your brother will come soon enough, I promise you that."

Haldir’s eyes flashed a white heat at the mention of his hated enemy’s name but he said nothing in response to Aragorn’s statement.

Aragorn drew a deep breath, wondering if he ought to bring up one other subject with Haldir. What was said in the midst of battle remained on the field unless the circumstances warranted speaking of it. What Haldir had said to him, though unintentional, must no doubt be causing the elf some measure of anxiety. "Haldir, what said about the Lady Melia shall not leave my lips. You can be assured of that."

Haldir stared sharply at him and his shoulders sagged visibly at the realisation of what he might have unwillingly imparted to Aragorn. "I had hoped that those words to you were a dream. It upsets me to know that it was quite real. I suppose I should be grateful that I did not die, then you would have been compelled to tell her my last words."


"She does not know?" Aragorn found himself exclaiming with surprise.

"No," Haldir replied shaking his head, wondering how the King of Gondor had come to be his confidante in this matter. "I do not love her, not in the way that you think. We elves are not made that way, Elfstone. We are able to choose."

"I know," Aragorn nodded, all too aware of the choice that Arwen had made for him.

"I could have loved her but I had not the courage for it. I fear too much giving my heart completely away to a woman who would be spent in a mere flicker of time. The prince surprised me. I had not thought he had the stomach to endure that kind of anguish."

"Sometimes, one has not choice but to follow the desires of their hearts Haldir, no matter how tragic the consequences," Aragorn replied softly.

"You think they are bound for tragedy?" Haldir asked.

"I think in the end it will be inevitable," Aragorn refused to lie on that subject as much as he wished for Legolas sake that it was otherwise.

"I know that in my heart I made the right decision," Haldir offered. "She loves him more than she could ever love me, if such a feeling even existed in her heart to begin which I doubt it ever did. Still I wonder what could have been and it is that unknown that plagues my thoughts more than it ought, that and the fact that I was too much a coward to make the choice that Legolas did."

Aragorn did not know what to say to Haldir to make the pain he felt any less and reluctantly faced the unhappy reality that there were some things that were beyond his ability to heal. Haldir did not expect an answer of him and the only thing that Aragorn could think to do was to leave him to his own thoughts. The king stepped out of the room and wandered back to his own resting place, feeling the limits of his strength dwindle in the face of his exertions. Upon entering the room provided solely for him, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him and turned around to see Eomer, accompanied by a familiar face that lifted Aragon’s spirit just by his presence alone.

"Elrohir!" Aragorn exclaimed happily as he saw his brother in law burst into a wide smile at the greeting. He hobbled forward on his crutch and was given a warm brace by Elrohir upon reaching the brother of Elladan and Arwen.

"Have you forgotten how to dodge an arrow since I last saw you?" Elrohir asked, bearing an often more rambunctious wit than Elladan who was the more thoughtful of the twin brothers.

"You are one to talk," Aragorn snorted. "Arriving too late as always for a battle."

"Yes," Elrohir nodded, his gaze shifting enough to the door to indicate the injured he had seen coming here. "I hear that even Haldir is here?" He stated.

"He is," Eomer replied, "he was injured gravely during our battle."

"As had many others it appears," Elrohir remarked, recalling the state of the Meduseld when he had ridden past the city walls. "I received the message at Eden Ardhon from Elladan, telling me of what he had encountered when he attempted to reach Imladris. He said he was journeying to you in Minas Tirith."

Aragorn nodded as he retreated to his bed and lowered himself into it as Eomer and Elrohir sat down on the chairs within the room while Elrohir began to relate his activities since receiving his twin’s message in South Ithilien.

"As soon as I could I rode for the White City to meet him there but upon my arrival, the Lady Eowyn told me of what befell my sister. Is it true, has she been taken by the dark elf Eol?"

"It should be impossible but it is true," Aragorn nodded sombrely. "It is Eol."

"It was this elf that placed Edoras under siege," Eomer added.

"I have heard of his legend," Elrohir’s expression became grave. "Of how he had lured the maiden Aredhel into the wood around Gondolin and stole her away to become his wife. We must prevent this fate from befalling my sister."

"As soon as we are well enough to ride, we will do just that," Aragorn said firmly. "However, he has placed Imladris under some form of enchantment. Your brother attempted to breach it but to no avail. I fear that when we arrive there, we will encounter the same difficulty."

"We must try," Elrohir replied firmly. "I will not allow my sister to be dishonoured."

"Believe me Elrohir, I do not wish that either," Aragorn answered softly, with more than a little worry in his voice to tell the prince of Imladris how much it tormented him that he might arrive to late to save his beloved Undomiel from such a fate.

"I am sorry Estel," Elrohir returned immediately, regretful that he had been so thoughtless with his words and forgetful at how this entire situation must be for Aragorn. "I cannot imagine how you are able to keep your wits about you in such circumstances but I know you will return her to us."

"Thank you but I am glad to see you here not only because your company will be welcomed in our quest to retrieve Arwen but also for another reason," Aragorn declared honestly and then gazed at Eomer. "My lord, I ask your leave that I may have a moment alone with my brother in law. There is a personal matter which I need to discuss with him."

"I have matters of my own to attend," Eomer said graciously, aware that Aragorn’s need for privacy was not because he did mistrusted the King of Rohan in any way but because the matter to be discussed required some delicate handling. "I will expect to see you all at my table when it is time to dine this evening. Until then," he said graciously before departing.

Aragorn waited until after Eomer had left before he turned to Elrohir again. By now, the prince of Imladris was waiting with growing concern for Aragorn to speak. His need for privacy raising alarm within the heart of the elf.

"What is it?" Elrohir asked. "Has something happened to Elladan?"

"Elladan is well," Aragorn said quickly, allaying that fear quickly. Elrohir and Elladan were twins who had been virtually inseparable since their birth. While adulthood sometimes took them away from each other’s company, it was never for long and their connection was not merely one of blood but also of spirit. "However, I fear this business with the Hunter has affected him far more than he tells."


"What do you mean?" Elrohir demanded always somewhat protective of his twin who to him always seemed more delicate of heart than he. "I was told by the messenger that he was unhurt merely driven to exhaustion, that it was Orophin that was killed."

"That is what happened," Aragorn confirmed with a nod. "But the messenger might not have told you that Orophin died in front of him, while Elladan was forced to watch. They had reached the Golden Wood and I believe Orophin was seconds behind him when the Hunter struck."

Elrohir’s breath caught in his throat, as he understood how such a terrible event would effect his brother. Of all his children, Elrond had often said that it was Elladan that reminded him most of his wife Celebrian, for he possessed her gentle nature and her tendency to take things too much to heart. It was part of the reason she never truly recovered from what was done to her during her captivity by the Orcs and why Elladan hated them with such passion, even more than Elrohir in some instances. Unlike Elrohir whose temper sometimes flared too often and easily, Elladan was calmer yet when his passion was provoked, his wrath was like a white-hot flame burning brighter than the sun and without any mercy.

"And he has been brooding," Elrohir guessed without needing to hear more. "Blaming himself no doubt for having survived when Orophin died," he mused shaking his head.

"You know your brother well," Aragorn responded.

"He takes too much upon himself and if this beast that has my sister is as terrible as you say, then it is a state of mind that can only endanger others with him if left unimpeded. His hatred for this creature will consume him far worse then any threat the Hunter might be to us all." Elrohir answered worriedly, hoping it was just a case of self-persecution and not something deeper.

"I have great fears of what we will find once we reach Imladris, Elrohir," Aragorn confessed. "This elf has managed to hide Imladris from the rest of Middle earth. The magic alone is something I cannot comprehend but fortunately, the Istar Pallando rides with us so we are not completely out of our depth. However, it is the people who still remain in the city whom my fears are for also. I cannot imagine that they would allow Eol to bar they away from the outside world, not when so many of the First Born are leaving these shores for the Western Lands. How has he managed to subdue them? Your people are not without their own powers, he cannot have overpowered them all."

"He might be able to manage quite a good deal if he has the Hunter at his side. We have been ingrained with the fear of this beast. It comes down to us from the earliest days of our existence. Those who came from Beleriand brought tales of it and how Melkor sent the Hunter to capture some of us following our emergence into the world. In those times, we were like children, innocent and unknowing of anything so terrible as the dark purpose Melkor intended for us." Elrohir explained. "I worry that when confronted by the Hunter, all those old terrors returned."

"Enough to ensnare them so completely?" Aragorn stared at Elrohir shaking his head. "I do not believe so."

The elves of Imladris had faced a great deal since they settled in the valley following Sauron’s invasion of Eriador and his subsequent defeats by Tar-Minastir, the War of the Last Alliance and finally the War of the Ring. For two ages, they had faced evils and such dark times that it was difficult for Aragorn to perceive, let alone live in it and yet Imladris still endured as the ‘Last Homely House East of the Sea’. Imladris was more than just a refuge to elves and men but to him, it had been the undisputed realm of an elf Aragorn almost considered a father. To think that Eol had somehow used dark magic to seize it instilled Aragorn with a great sense of personal outrage almost as fierce as the abduction of Arwen.

"Enchantments can be twisted to serve evil Estel," Elrohir pointed out, despite Aragorn’s reluctance to believe it. "This elf has dark magic in his service and so we cannot know what he might have done to our people."

"Whatever it is," Aragorn said firmly, making a silence oath as powerful as the one he had made to Eldarion to bring Arwen home. "We will stop it and free Imladris, of that you have my word and my bond."

Elrohir gazed at him for when Aragorn spoke with such determination, it was impossible to believe anything was beyond the King of Gondor.


Chapter 8 - Imladris

The five days following the siege of Edoras was the longest that Aragorn had ever known.

Each morning he awoke fighting the compulsion to ride immediately from the Golden Hall for Imladris and each morning he knew he was not ready by the pain in his body. His sense as a healer and as a warrior told him that he could not make the journey yet. The healer in him knew that it was unwise to leave when his wounds were still so fresh while the warrior reminded Aragorn that with broken ribs, riding a horse would be almost impossible and making the journey on foot would be equally untenable because of his injured leg. In the end, the husband was forced to relent to the wishes of the former despite causing him no small amount of ire.


The time spent waiting for himself and his company to recover was more than Aragorn could stand for his thoughts were plagued constantly by Arwen and what she was enduring in the hands of Eol. He tried to console himself with the fact that Eol would not be ready to partake of his prize until after she was sufficiently recovered from the rigors of childbirth. Faramir explained that Aredhel had borne Eol a son, surely then he would know that elven women recovered slowly from childbirth, especially when the babe being delivered in this instance was a hybrid of man and elf.

He knew it was a flimsy hope to cling to because a creature that would steal a mother from its child was lacking already in any kind of scruples to be that considered over his prize. However, it was all he could do to keep his rage from spilling over and forcing him into doing something rash and foolish. The more time stretched between the present and the last time he had seen Arwen, the greater Aragorn’s fears became for her honor. Deep in his heart, he knew that nothing that Eol did to Arwen would ever make Aragorn stop loving her but he would not see her suffer her mother’s fate.

A week after the siege of Edoras, the company was ready to travel again. In truth, none of them were completely healed. Haldir, least of all but the march warden would allow nothing to keep him from journeying to Imladris. Aragorn had promised him the chance to avenge Orophin and to that the king would hold, no matter how much his instincts as a healer told him otherwise. Faramir no longer wore a sling under his arm but it was obvious that the shoulder that had been pierced with an arrow was still tender by the care in which he moved.

Though Legolas seemed well enough, his tunic hid the injury he had suffered at the hands of a Uruk Hai’s mace. However, Legolas did not seem hindered by this as his spirit had lifted considerably by the report from Elrohir’s passage through Minas Tirith that Melia was recovering well from the Hunter’s attack. Elladan’s spirit had also lifted with the arrival of his twin and Aragorn hoped that before arriving at Imladris, whatever was troubling the prince would be settled to some degree. He knew that there was no way he could temper Haldir’s desire for vengeance but Haldir seemed more at ease with strong emotions then Elladan, who by nature gentle until provoked into being otherwise.

Fortunately, the elves recovered their injuries far more swiftly then all others in the company and Aragorn was relieved of this when they finally set out from Edoras, seven days after the siege. Aragorn held Eomer to his promise of sending the contingent of Rohirrim to Imladris two days after they had departed and while the King of the Mark was unhappy at the condition, understood that it was the only way Aragorn would accept the assistance. They rode from Edoras and made quickly for the Gap of Rohan, meeting Gimli at the Glittering Caves on the way. Once their company was complete, their pace quickened intensely for there was a good deal of ground to cover and even less time in which to get it done.

Avoiding the Misty Mountains had been good judgement on his part for as they rode through the Gap of Rohan, the weather seemed to take a turn for the worst. Attempting to travel across the mountains would have been an arduous journey and Aragorn wondered how was Eol faring in his own journey to Imladris. Aragorn was certain that Eol would take the easiest route to the elven city by attempting to sail down the Anduin and then attempting to cross the mountain at one of its passes. With the company unable to maintain pursuit for almost a week, Aragorn was certain that by now Eol and Arwen would have crossed the Misty Mountains already and were nearing Imladris.

As they rode towards Imladris with the Misty Mountains on their flanks, he was glad they had avoided any attempt to cross the range. The hostility of such a crossing would have cost him valuable time because they could see the effect of the winter upon the mountains. Winds were sweeping against its craggy hills were fierce indeed as if some terrible god above had taken refuge there in the winter months. Inwardly, he tried not to think of what Arwen must have endured when Eol forced her to cross that treacherous terrain. However, he knew without doubt that she still lived. She was a part of him and if was no longer in this world, he would know.

It would destroy him but he would know.

Their pace was relentless and their determination even more so. Ignoring injury and exhaustion, they were a curious routine of devastating pace broken intermittently by a few hours rest and mostly for the benefit of the horses who had the greater burden of carrying them towards Imladris. None seemed to complain as the distance between themselves and their destination began to shorten. They moved in this way for many days and nights, keeping their wits about them in case their enemy attempted to waylay them as Eol had tried to do to Aragorn before their arrival at Edoras.

At Isengard, they paused less than a day, taking rest at the Orthanc and allowing Pallando to consult with the acolytes that now commanded the former stronghold of Saruman the Traitor. The new wizards were more than delighted to have a true Istar in their presence and welcomed the king and his companions as honored guests. The land surrounding the Orthanc no longer appeared so ravaged and following the war, the Ents had seen to it that new growth sprouted in place of the great trees that had been torn down by Saruman and his foul minions.

Legolas was somewhat disappointed that time constraints did not allow him to visit the great forest of Fangborn though Gimli, who would almost certainly be expected to accompany the elf, did not appear as troubled by this. If anything, the dwarf seemed rather relieved that they had to be on their way as soon as possible Aragorn suspected that Gimli would never quite grow comfortable at being in Fangborn, no matter how friendly Treebeard and his kind might be with the dwarf who carried an axe.

Aragorn was further convinced that Pallando had much to offer the new wizards of the Orthanc for his gentle counsel during their stay had been much valued. Pallando had spent much of the night, consulting the books that Saruman had kept in the tower that was not destroyed during the Ent siege of Isengard. Aragorn suspected that he was searching some way to explain how Eol had managed to cloak Imladris from the rest of the world and perhaps how the dark elf from the First Age had somehow appeared in the beginnings of the Fourth when he should have died at Caragadhur. Whether or not he found his answers, Pallando did not say when they resumed their journey the next day.

Leaving Isengard, they were forced to travel in Dunland and ensured that they stayed well away from the hills where the Dunlendings were known to inhabit. According to Eomer, there was now peace between the Rohirrim and the hill men of Dunland but it was a peace forced upon them by the defeat of war. During the War of the Ring, the barbaric Dunlendings had cast their lot with Saruman and Isengard, making war upon their old enemies, the Rohirrim. With the aid of the Huorns at the Battle of Hornburg, the Dunlending forces along with Saruman’s Uruk Hai hordes were destroyed. The Dunlendings had little choice but to accept peace.

Aragorn was not so deluded to think that the Dunlendings, barbaric herdsman most of them, would not think twice about killing a group of travelers who wandered into their territory. In the midst of such encounters, titles and rank meant little to a people who were known to be fierce warriors and whose pride had taken a lashing from the Rohirrim one time too many in the past. During their journey through the Dunlands, the company kept a close vigil for the aggressive denizens of the hills and cut short their rest periods so that they might cross it quickly.

It was almost nine days since they had set out from Edoras, riding hard through the lands between to reach Imladris. In far time than Aragorn thought it possible, they had soon left Moria behind and were less than a day from arriving at River Bruinen who waters protected Imladris from the rest of the world. The anticipation of finally reaching Arwen after long last was more than Aragorn could stand because the closer they came to their destination, the more he feared something terrible would happen to her now that she was within reach of her.

Aragorn’s anxiety was clear to those in his presence as they sat around the campfire, taking the final rest they would see before arriving at Imladris. The King of Gondor found it difficult to rest, not when his queen was someone else’s prisoner. He found himself leaving the heat of the fire, his stomach finding no place for the food that was being prepared by Faramir, whose turn it was to cook and was surprisingly quite good at it. Certainly not in the caliber of the hobbit Samwise Gamgee but then hobbit folk took their food as seriously as Sauron took his ring.

Finding himself a quiet place framed by trees where he could be alone with his thoughts, Aragorn thought to spare his companions increasingly fell mood. Before he was king, listening to the sound of the woods when he was alone in the wilds often soothed his mind when thoughts of destiny became too much for him. In those days, his life had been simpler and his brow did not feel so heavy with the weight of a crown. Aragorn wondered if anyone except Arwen knew how much he truly missed being the Ranger Strider.

"You should not wander alone Aragorn," Aragorn heard a familiar voice behind him. The intruder upon his privacy could be only one person because no one knew him as well.

"Legolas," Aragorn looked over his shoulder with a frown. "I wanted a moment alone to myself."

"So you can work yourself into a proper fit of anxiety no doubt," Legolas retorted unrepentant by the intrusion.

"She is my wife," Aragorn declared, feeling a little anger at Legolas’ words. "I have the right to be worried."

"I do not doubt that," Legolas looked at him. "If I were in your position, I would feel the same and I am closer to it than you think. Do you know what it was to find Melia as I did when we discovered Arwen was missing?"

Aragorn did not answer but nodded slightly because he did know. In almost eighty years of friendship, Aragorn had never seen Legolas so stricken with panic. He had not believed it possible of an elf to feel such fear. The First Born could be somewhat aloof at times; calling into questions amongst men at least, whether or not they felt things as passionately as the younger races. If Elrond had not raised him, he might have believed the same but it was not true. The family of Elrond had educated him that elves could feel things most deeply. It was simply the fact that they had lived so long that very little surprised them.

"The thought of losing her so soon, before we even had the benefit of her short life span was more than I could stand. I fear all the time of some calamity befalling her, of taking her away sooner than I know she will be taken away from me someday. I know you fear Arwen’s safety but you must have faith in the lady. She has done great deeds in her time and she is strong enough to endure anything that Eol may do to her as long as you always hold her in grace."

"I fear that he will kill her if he cannot force her to obey him," Aragorn met Legolas gaze and dropped the mask of the strong fearless king he had to wear for everyone’s benefit and reveal the man beneath. "That is what I fear more than anything. If he touches her or dishonors her in anyway, I will kill him for certain but she could never be tainted in my eyes. I love her too much for that but I fear that her resistance to him might make him angry and that he might take her life if he cannot have her the way he desires. Losing her Legolas, that is what I cannot fathom. This kingship means nothing without her. If she dies, then it has all been for nothing."

"Do not speak that way," Legolas said sharply. "What you have done to become King of Gondor has ensured that the hundred next generations who are born will know peace free of Sauron and darkness. Do you think the Evenstar would be happy to hear you speak that way? Now you are afraid and understandably so but you must calm yourself or we will never breach Imladris to retrieve her. As we needed you to lead on the field of Edoras, we need you do the same when we face Eol."

Aragorn met Legolas’ eyes and spoke from the heart, drawing his words from a place he seldom showed anyone. It was a place buried deep inside him, beneath the veneer of the husband, the Ranger and even the King, in a heavily shrouded realm where the man that he was dwelt in deference to all the other roles he was required to play. For the benefit of Arwen, his people and his destiny, the man was seldom seen or heard and he lived in a remote place inside Aragorn’s mind in loneliness and secrecy.

"He frightens me this elf," Aragorn confessed at last.

The admission did not surprise Legolas because he knew his friend. One could not know a person for almost than eighty years and not come away with something of the man, no matter how much Aragorn tried to hide it from everyone.

"Why?" Legolas asked quietly, allowing Aragorn to confide in him.

"It is not merely his power but his sorcery that worries me, that and his malice. He could hurt us in ways we cannot imagine. How has he managed to escape the destruction of Beleriand and remain hidden from Sauron for two ages? This much power does not remain in secret for long. You know as well as I that Sauron drew darkness to him and his reach was far and wide, there was very little that escaped his notice. The only reason that Frodo succeeded in besting him was because he believed that hobbits were so insignificant, they could never be a threat to him. If Eol can take Imladris, something that Sauron was never able to do, then we are dealing with someone who may be more powerful than any of us can imagine."

"The enemy is strong," Legolas could not deny it but there was more to Aragorn’s fear, then just power.

"He killed her because he could not have her," Aragorn pointed out. "He killed Aredhel out of spite when there was nothing to gain. He was willing to destroy all of Edoras, just to kill the company. This elf may be willing to destroy Imladris to keep Arwen and I have to decide whether or not the woman I love is worth risking all those under his power."

"It will not come to that," Legolas assured him but now that Aragorn had mentioned it, he was not so certain. Was a king’s love for his queen worth the death of all those who were in Imladris? Could they be asked to choose which they valued more, the queen or the people of Elrond’s city?

"I fear that it might," Aragorn replied softly, "I fear that he may not give me a choice."

"Then you will think of a way," Legolas met his gaze. "Just as you always seem to do when things are at their darkest. Your worry for your wife has made you doubt yourself, understandably so but you should not. We have faith in you Aragorn and rest assured wherever she is, the Evenstar believes the same."

Aragorn drew in a deep breath, feeling the weight of the elven lord’s words sinking into his skin. He had faced so many things in his life but he could not deny that he was unimaginably afraid of losing Arwen. However, Legolas was correct. He would think of a way because he had to. There was no other alternative. It was true that their journey across Middle earth had eroded his confidence in his worth somewhat but he could not allow such worries to hinder him when he had a promise to fulfil to Eldarion.

He had promised to bring Arwen home for the both of them.

"You a good friend Legolas," Aragorn said reaching for the elf’s shoulder and showing his gratitude with a gentle squeeze.

"I know," the elf returned with a little smirk.

"And modest," Aragorn added giving him a wry smile as he stood up, deciding a return to the campsite was in order.

"That passes without saying," Legolas retorted as if it were the most natural thing in the world as he fell into stride with Aragorn and walked towards the warm light of the fire in the near distance.

***************

 The days following the onset of her illness had been strange ones for Arwen. Her mind had been clouded with disjointed images that were hard to discern now that she was forced to remember. She knew that the weakness that had dogged her since her unwilling removal from Minas Tirith had finally taken its toll upon her shortly after they had passed the woods of Lothlorien. Arwen recalled wanting badly to feel the beauty of the Golden Wood around her as their boat sailed the along the Anduin but once again, her captor denied her even this small comfort, allowing her to only see it in passing as they drifted by.

Following their departure from Lothlorien, their journey blurred into a vague series of images as she became beset with fever. She recalled vaguely their arrival at a small village and a dwelling that reminded her a little of Frodo Baggins’ beloved Bag End even though she knew they were far from the Shire. Arwen could not recall exactly how long she had lingered in that strange place only that after a time, they were travelling again and while her senses had not returned to her completely, she knew that she was not as ill as she was. At the time, Arwen had not understood how this was possible for the days that followed seemed almost like a dream.

Now as they entered the valley that surrounded her father’s city, Arwen’s mind was clearer than it had been. She realized than when Eol had treated her for her illness, he had also ensured that she would be in something of a stupor that would make her less troublesome during her journey to Imladris. Although her strength was returning, she was disappointed that she was nowhere strong enough to call upon the River to protect her from him especially when it appeared that he was in command of magic more formidable then she could fathom.

"Soon we will be home," Eol said as he rode alongside of her.

Her horse was carefully tethered to his so that eye and Arwen hid her frustration at how helpless she was to his will. She could not even break free of him to escape, let alone flee the Hunter’s watchful eyes. She had no news of Aragorn because Eol refused to speak about her beloved Estel in her company. She was certain that he was determined that she be rid of any hope that Aragorn would come to her rescue even though Arwen knew that wherever he was, her king was coming for her. It was something she knew with her heart and soul, even without discernible proof to satisfy her skeptical mind.

"My home is in the White City," Arwen said sourly, determined not to encourage this fool in his delusions that she was anything but his prisoner.

"The home of men is not the home of the Evenstar," Eol replied as if he were speaking to an unlearned child. "You belong in the city of your father."

"My father is in Valinor," Arwen glared at him, her loathing clearly reflected in his eyes. "If Imladris belongs to anyone, it belongs to my brothers. They are the true lords of this land."

Eol smiled faintly at her stubbornness. "If I am not mistaken," he met her eyes smugly; "did they not abandon this realm to establish a new colony at South Ithilien?"

Arwen stiffened in annoyance at his awareness of Elladan and Elrohir’s decision to leave Imladris to join Legolas in Eden Ardhon. "It is a temporary situation," she answered coldly.

"When we are bound together, I will have legitimate claim over Imladris," he said firmly.

"Legitimate claim?" She glared at him in unhidden fury. "You have no right to claim Imladris or me for that matter! Are you without any sense of reality? I am already bound to the King of Gondor. He is my sovereign lord and the father of my child! All you are to me is some criminal who dared to steal me out of my home!"

Eol suddenly reached across the space between her and caught hold a handful of Arwen’s hair, forcing her face towards him as he leaned closer towards her and ensured that she had no choice but to meet his eyes as he explained to her the reality of her situation. "My patience with you Evenstar is not finite. I will caution you to hold your tongue. Make no mistake on your situation dear lady, you are mine to do with and you will obey me. Your time as queen of a lower race is done. Your half-breed whelp and your husband is a thing of the past. Your future lies with me and the children you bear me, do you understand?"

"I will never bear you anything!" she pulled herself free of him and raised her hand to strike him for his venomous words but he caught her wrist in one hand.

"You will learn to appreciate me in time,"’ he replied, seemingly unaffected by her obvious disdain. "I promise you that."

Arwen drew away from him, disgusted by his touch and the notion of ever being his in any shape or form. She looked ahead, cursing her situation and praying that Estel was not far away. Never in her life had she needed him so desperately to deliver her. If Eol were allowed to have his way, she would be faced with a nightmare that would follow her for all eternity. The thought that she would never again see Estel or Eldarion filled Arwen with despair and yet she knew of no way to extricate herself from the predicament she now found herself trapped within. This elf’s obsession with her bordered almost on madness though he seemed as sane as any one of her race. Yet there was madness in his eyes, of this she had no doubt, even if it was capable of hiding well beneath the mask of cold calculation.

As they reached the ford of River Bruinien that was the boundary of her people’s land, she felt no comfort in its protection. For centuries, invaders who attempted to breach Imladris would find the power of the river rising up against them and making them pay dearly for the incursion. If she were not so weakened from her illness and if not for the instinctive certainty she felt that using the river against Eol would have been a mistake because it was clear that his powers were far greater than her own and straining his patience might force him to take more drastic action with her.

When her horse broke the surface of the water within the Ford of Bruinen, which would lead to the entrance of Imladris, Arwen was suddenly struck with a strange sensation that immediately struck fear into her heart. She could not feel the river. The people of Imladris were closely bound to the Ford that protected them from harm for as long as the city had stood. It was as much a part of them as it was a part of her father and through the ages, a curious sort of symbiosis between the elves of Rivendell and the Ford had been established. Those who were of Imladris could call upon the Ford in the time of need to protect them from danger. Arwen herself had once called upon it to protect her and Frodo Baggins from the Nazgul.

To feel this loss of connection to the river unnerved her because it should not be possible. While the river lived and while she was a child of Imladris, she should be able to feel the Ford of Bruinen. However, in place of that familiarity was this cold emptiness and suddenly, Arwen began to understand why Eol was so confident that he could keep her captive once they reached Imladris.

"What have you done?" She finally found the voice to spoke, trying to hide how shaken she was by her discovery.

"Done?" He looked at her innocently.

"You have done something to the ford, you have disrupted its power somehow," Arwen accused him.

"I have done nothing to the ford," Eol answered with a hint of triumph in his voice. "I have merely channeled the power in it to serve my purposes."

Arwen was shaking with fury, "the Ford has protected my people for as long as we have lived here! How dare you interfere with it!"

"You need not trouble yourself my dear Evenstar," Eol replied smoothly, pleased that she was starting understand the futility of her predicament by recognizing his power. "Your father used the ford to protect Imladris from its enemies. I seek to do the same, I simply differ in my method of protection. Instead of simply protecting Imladris, the ford know ensures that no one will find their way to my city unless I desire it first."


"It is not your city!" Arwen hissed, feeling her heart sinking at the thought of Estel trying to penetrate the cloak that Eol had cast over Imladris. How was he to reach her if he could not even find his way to the city? She tried to hide her despair at the dwindling possibilities for escape because she would not give him the satisfaction.

"I do not know why you are so resistant to the idea of my claim to Imladris. I do not see your father remaining within its precious confines. Your brothers’ actions of late seem to indicate the same, that they have no wish to remain in the city while you consider Gondor more your home these days. Why should I not take charge of it since it is apparent that none of Elrond’s heirs could care less?"

Arwen wanted to deny his claim but she could not because on some level he was not lying. Since their father’s departure, Imladris did not feel the same to them or those who dwelt within its borders. Elrond had built Imladris from the remnant of Eregion following its destruction and into its construction he had poured heart and soul, which now seemed gutted from the city now that he had returned to the Western Lands. Arwen could not deny that Imladris was not the same for her without her father and for her brothers she could not speak but she knew that Elladan and Elrohir sought challenge and with the end of Sauron, Imladris no longer offered it to them. Still, this usurper had no right to claim the city or her.

"You assume too much Eol," Arwen stared at him sharply. "You may have power over me momentarily but not even the possession of great power can one master of everything. Sauron learnt that lesson and so will you."

Eol stared at her, feeling her words pierce his skin like a sharp points before he responded coolly, showing no signs that he had been affected. "I am not Sauron," he said.

And with just as much venom, she turned his words back upon and him and answered, "and I am not Aredhel."

**************

 When she had ridden away from Minas Tirith, determined to face the enemy that threatened Eldarion in her womb some months before, she and Eowyn had arrived at a small village that had been beset by the great spiders of Mirkwood. The foul beasts had been driven there after the elves of Eryn Lasgalen had driven Ungoliant’s spawn out of the forest for good. The creatures had taken refuge in the small village by the river, feasting on its innocent residents until they withdrew into the lurking darkness, waiting for new prey. When she and Eowyn had moved through the village, Arwen had remembered the cold sensation of danger pressing up against her spine, warning her with each step that something terrible had transpired in that place.

It was the same feeling that ensnared her as she entered Imladris.

The city of her childhood was strangely silent. She knew that many of her people had departed for the Undying Lands and that Imladris was nowhere as burgeoning with life as it had once been. She had expected things to be different upon her return, she did not expect it to be so, so empty. Once again, her heart was gripped with alarm at what Eol and his beast had done to her people. She could not feel anyone else about and that frightened her. A feeling of dread had risen up within her, like the foul stench of bad water at the bottom a drying well.

In her youth, she had always likened Imladris by night to a cluster of stars close enough to touch. Hundreds of myriad lights peeked at her through a canvas of darkness, each a window to someone private world. Riding through the streets with Eol and the Hunter, Arwen was struck by how diminished Imladris appeared. It was more than just the lack of lights scattered throughout the city, it was the sinister feel of the air which should have been sweet and enticing, not weighted blanket heaviness that burdened the spirit instead of raising it. There were no sweet songs sung, no happy voices of any kind. It was like Imladris was slowly disappearing into the shadow in a slow, torturous process. It could simply be with the departure of her father and most of the population that had allowed this atmosphere of neglect to fester but somehow, Arwen did not believe it so.

It was to her utter disgust when Eol led her to her father’s house having apparently claimed it for his own. She did not voice her fury at his audacity because she wanted to speak to him as little as possible. Arwen was coming to the firm conclusion that when he looked at her, he did not see the Evenstar, he only saw Aredhel, the wife he had murdered. Upon reaching her father’s house, Arwen saw the first signs of life since entering Imladris. Morfiniel, one of the elven ladies who took care of the day to day needs of Elrond’s house emerged at the foot of the sweeping stairs that led into the building to greet them. Arwen was glad to see a familiar face but judging by Morfiniel’s expression, the lady was not as happy to see her.

"My lady," Morfiniel bowed her head gently, her eyes stealing furtive glances at Eol and the Hunter who clearly terrified her. "I am glad to see you but I wish the circumstances were different."

Morfiniel had been a member of Elrond’s household staff for as long as Arwen could remember and was a Maid of Honor to her mother Celebrian. When Celebrian had returned from her ordeal with the orcs bearing the wound that could not be healed in Middle earth, she had had made Morfiniel promise to look after her family in her absence. It was an oath the Maid of Honor took with great pride and one she had not abandoned even after Elrond had departed for the Undying Lands. Morfiniel had claimed she would not leave while the last of Elrond’s children still remained in Middle earth and that she would always keep their father’s house in readiness for all of them when they chose to visit.

"Where is everyone?" Arwen demanded.

Morfiniel did not answer, her eyes showed her anxiety as she darted past Arwen to stare fearfully at the arrival of Eol and the Hunter behind her. Arwen realized that she would get nothing from Morfiniel although the absence of life in Imladris frightened her greatly. Where was everyone? What had Eol done to them?

"What have you done to my people?" Arwen whirled around and faced Eol.

Eol did not answer her at first, directing his words at Morfiniel instead, "have you prepared the Evenstar’s room as I requested?"

"Yes my lord," she nodded in response, "everything is in readiness as you requested."

"Good," Eol turned to the Hunter and replied, "we will soon be having guests. I want to know the moment they attempt to breach the city."

"I thought your enchantment prevents that," the Hunter looked at him.

"With a Maiar present, I would not rely too heavily upon my enchantment keeping them out," Eol replied.

Arwen’s heart flared with hope at hearing the news that Aragorn was coming. Even though Eol did not speak him by name, Arwen knew the dark elf could mean no one else. Only Aragorn would have such an effect upon Eol and Arwen felt insides warm with the hope of seeing Aragorn again and delivering her from the hands of this poor, deluded fool. Her faith in her king was such that she did not even believe the Hunter was capable of stopping him if Aragorn was determined to reach her.


"He will find a way through you and your spell," Arwen declared proudly, her heart swelling with courage, knowing that Estel was not far away, "it will take more than your pet to stop him from reaching me."

Eol shot her a venomous glare before returning his attention to the Hunter, "when he find his way through the cloak, inform me immediately," Eol ordered. He shifted his gaze to Arwen briefly, his eyes full of menace when he spoke again, "I have a surprise awaiting the King of Gondor."

Arwen felt herself shudder inwardly at the ominous threat behind those words but she forced herself to remain hopeful. Estel had made it this far despite Eol’s efforts to prevent him from doing so; she had to believe he was capable of surmounting anything else that the elf could devise to hinder his progress to reach her.

"What about the others?" The Hunter asked, ignoring the woman for she was his master’s concern.

"They are yours," Eol said nonchalantly, "do with them as you would."

The beast’s lips stretched in a parody of a smile and the sinister gleam in his eyes, indicating that he was most happy with the gift. However there was still another matter to consider, one that the Hunter could not forget after his humiliating defeat at Edoras. "The Maiar will attempt to stop me."

"Do not worry," Eol replied. "Once I have Aragorn, the Maiar will have far greater things to concern himself than what you are doing to his companions."

***********

 There was a time when seeing the Ford of Bruinen would have brought comfort to the weary travelers who came in search of the elven city of Imladris because the ford was a much apart of the city as its people. For centuries through the ages of its existence, Imladris was a place of refuge. It had been built by Elrond following Sauron’s assaults upon Eriador throughout the ages since, had become a symbol and hope for all the free peoples of Middle earth. In the dark times, those who fled the powers of darkness would find themselves at the Ford and be embraced by the power that Elrond had imbued it. The ford protected Imladris from evil and ensured no harm came to the venerated elven city. Since That power had not diminished following Elrond’s departure and would remain for as long Imladris continue to exist.

Now as the company approached the waters of the ford, they sensed that this was no longer so. There was something not right as they approached the waters of the river. Even with the sun shining above their heads, they could not feel its heat for there was something cold and dark about that rested against their skins like an icy breath. It was Elladan who was affected most by this as they approached the river for here it was when their seemingly benign trip to Imladris had taken a decidedly sinister turn. Elrohir kept close to his brother, noticing the anxiety that was starting to build inside his twin for his anger and bluster at gaining revenge against the Hunter.

Elladan remembered how it had been for him when he and Orophin had first approached the ford, thinking that this sensation that suddenly crept upon them was nothing to worry about. After all, this was Imladris, the sacred city of the elves, the bastion that had stood against Sauron for so long. How could there be anything evil about it? They had crossed the river, uncomfortable yes, but oblivious to what lurked in waiting for them because of foolish complacency. It was only when they found themselves taking paths that led them not to the city but away from it that the understanding of their predicament truly dawned upon them.


"Elladan, are you all right?" The prince asked his brother, having stayed by his side for most of their journey.

"I am fine," Elladan answered Elrohir, grateful for his brother’s presence even if his uneasiness was apparent. Ahead of them, the ford awaited their crossing and Elladan felt his heart pounding loudly in anticipation of the Hunter’s arrival.

"This time it will be different," Elrohir commented, aware of what fears Elladan held in his heart. "The Hunter will have to face all of us."

"I do not fear facing him," Elladan declared more sharply then intended. "I fear what we will find when we reach our home. Eol could not have done what he has without ensuring first that the people of Imladris were not a threat to him. Has he killed them all Elrohir? Has he taken Imladris by destroying its people?’

"Of course not," Elrohir answered plainly, refusing to believe that for one instant. He could not allow such terrible suspicion to gain foothold in his heart. It would crush the soul inside him and he could ill afford that when Arwen needed him so. "I do not know what he has done but I will not linger on the worst possible outcome until I know for certain."

"We should not have left Elrohir," Elladan looked at him. "Father relied upon us to protect Imladris and we failed him by leaving it."

"We did not fail father in anything," Elrohir quickly countered, not wishing to think that he had neglected any undertaking asked of him by Elrond Peredhil. "He wanted us to go with him. He did not charge us to stay behind and protect Imladris. You heard him yourself, he believed that our time here was done - that our people days in this land were finished."

"Imladris is his city Elrohir," Elladan met his brother’s eyes. "In his place, we are its lords and we are responsible for those who still remain. We did wrong to leave. By our departure, we allowed someone like Eol to take control of it. He not only took control of our father’s city but he also stole our sister like those filthy orcs stole our mother. If she is dishonored in the same way, I swear that I…."

"Elladan, enough," Elrohir caught his arm and kept him from finishing his sentence. "You need to be clear of mind. I know you have suffered and perhaps when this is all over, we must think about the choices we have made but right now, you cannot let your heart be burdened so by such dark thoughts. We must have hope for our sister and for our people in Imladris."


Elladan met his brother’s eyes and realized that Elrohir was correct, that he had to be strong, now more than ever but he was plagued with so many regrets. Not merely at his helplessness in the face of Orophin’s death but also by the burden of surviving and for leaving Imladris in the first place. However, thoughts of answering his brother were silent as he held his breath in anticipation of what would happen as the company began to cross the Ford. Whether or not Elrohir shared his fear, Elladan did not know for certain because suddenly they had all fallen silent as graveyard.

If the horses sensed any sorcery at work, they did not show any reaction to it. Instead, they moved at a robust pace across the shallow water, creating splashes as they trotted against the pebbled riverbed. Aragorn as always took the lead but this time it was not Legolas or Faramir at his side but Pallando. The wizard’s expression was unfathomable while the others about him were filled with trepidation. There was caution in his eyes as his steed overtook Aragorn’s and he began to lead them across the water. No one spoke because they were all too aware of what Elladan had told them about not being able to find his way to the city. Hands drifted unconsciously to the weapons each man carried, awaiting the reappearance of the beast that had led the Uruk Hai upon Edoras and who had stolen the Queen of Gondor out of her home.

Tense with anticipation, the company crossed the ford without calamity, all the while waiting for danger to spring forth unexpectedly and became uncertain when it did not. Aragorn’s brow knotted with confusion while next to him Legolas seemed openly troubled but not by the lack of incident but something else he did not speak. Haldir appeared merely bewildered, confused by something more than just the Hunter’s absence. Gimli and Faramir had no special senses to warn them of danger but they were capable of reading their elven companions just as well as Aragorn and they knew something was troubling them. Elladan and Elrohir lingered furthest behind. Elladan seemed to wear Legolas’ expression while Elrohir’s thoughts were mostly filled with concerns of his brother’s welfare.

"Can you feel it?" Pallando broke the silence when he reached the shore.

"Feel what?" Aragorn asked, wishing sometimes that he was blessed with elven senses.

"Nothing," Legolas voice spoke first, a soft whisper that felt alien against the quiet wood.

"Nothing?" Aragorn looked at him.


"I should be able to feel Elrond’s power but I cannot," Legolas confessed and as Aragorn looked to the other elves, he saw that none of them could feel it either, which explained to him why they were suddenly so uneasy.

"Is that how he’s keeping everyone out?" Gimli demanded. "By draining Elrond’s power from the river?"

"He does not seem to be hindering our progress now," Faramir retorted, wondering where this barrier was that Elladan had spoken about so fearfully.

"It is there I tell you," Elladan declared.

"Easy brother," Aragorn said gently, "no one doubts your word. The Lord of Ithilien merely asked a question and one I would like answered myself because the path ahead looks as it always does during my past visits."

"It will be until you try to reach the city," Pallando replied shortly and captured everyone’s attention by that one statement.

Unfortunately, he did not follow it up with a further explanation and as all eyes stared at him, the wizard seemed far more interested in scanning the woods before them like there was some secret within it that only he could see. The rest of the company shifted uncomfortably in their saddles, waiting for Pallando to speak further because he was frozen in place along the shore of the Ford.

"Make yourself clear wizard," Gimli finally declared, patience never being a strong point with him even though his demand was mirrored in the thoughts of all his companions.

Pallando did not answer the dwarf, choosing instead to turn around on his horse so that he was facing them again. He raised the wooden staff in his hands and whispered a few words that sounded like ancient Quendi although none could hear it clearly enough to say for certain. However, when he had done with this recital a burst of white light flared from the point of his staff and dazzled them with its brilliance. The horses upon which they were astride seemed not to notice the sudden illumination but the company flinched and cried out in varying degrees of surprise and annoyance.

"Much better," the wizard said with approval once they had ceased their complaining and were rubbing their eyes in response to the overload of light.

"What was much better?" Aragorn complained as he blinked furiously to force away the spots that were still forming in his eyes. "What was the purpose of that?"

"To clear your minds," Pallando said simply.

"Clear our minds?" Gimli sputtered. "You almost blinded us with that foolishness!"

"I was un-blinding you," Pallando pointed out.

"Un-blinding us?" Aragorn was starting to share Gimli’s annoyance. "Pallando do you think you be a little less cryptic and more forthcoming with your answers?"

"The enchantment that keeps us from reaching Imladris is not cast upon the ford, though it does draw its power from it. It is actually a rather clever spell that Eol has used," Pallando commented.

"I am glad you believe so," the king said sarcastically. "Please continue."

"The enchantment affects those who attempt to enter the city so that it is not the paths that change, it’s the ability of the traveler to see it." Pallando explained.

"It clouds the mind," Faramir declared in understanding. "It does not hide the city. It simply makes us believe that it does by distorting our perception of how to reach it."

"And it is an enchantment that requires little power to work, no more than a wizard might use to conjure a little glamour to hide his appearance," Pallando concluded.

"So we can reach Imladris?" Elladan demanded quickly, feeling his spirit soar at the prospect of being able to reach the city at long last.

"Yes," Pallando answered, "you have only to take the path home."


Aragorn could see Elladan wanted to ride furiously to Imladris to reach the city and his sister. While he himself was fighting the urge to do just that, Aragorn also knew that unless he underestimated Eol considerably, the elf would not make it so easy for them to reach their goal. Now more than ever, the company needed to proceed cautiously. With Arwen almost within reach, he was not about to risk the chances of retrieving her by behaving hastily or with little thought. He had been out manouvred too much already by Eol during this entire affair and he was not going to let the elf best him again, not when it was Arwen’s life that hung in the balance.

"Elladan," Aragorn spoke up before the prince’s desire to act overtook his sense. "We will proceed carefully. We know not what other surprises Eol has awaiting us but I am certain that he will not give Arwen up easily. We will continue towards Imladris but we will do so with caution."

If it were anyone else who had made this request of him, Elladan might have balked at the notion of waiting any longer than necessary when it was his sister was in danger. However, he had watch the love between Arwen and Aragorn grow through the years since their first meeting and knew that there was nothing the king would not do to ensure her safety. If Aragorn could lay down his life for Arwen, Elladan knew that he would do so without question or hesitation.

"That is sound," Elladan conceded, showing his support for Aragorn’s decision.

"It would be better if we approached by dark," Gimli suggested as they move further across the shore to the woods beyond it. There was not a great distance to travel before they reached Imladris and they would certainly make that journey in daylight. If concealment was their intention, they would have none of it if they followed their present course.

"I do not think it matters greatly Master Dwarf," Haldir remarked honestly, his eyes searching the wood and sensing that there was danger lurking in every thing about them, even its form was not entirely known yet. "If Eol does not already know that we are here, I am certain it will only be a matter of time before he learns it. When one is dealing with magic, there are no certainties that can be relied upon."

"Silence!" Pallando barked sharply, his brow knotting in deep concentration.

"What is it?" Aragorn started to say when he saw the expression on the faces of the elves in his company shift swiftly from concern to anticipation. Without even hearing them say it, he knew that there was something approaching them, something that had the power to frighten then for it was evidenced by the darkening shade of their eyes.

Aragorn saw Legolas remove his bow from behind his back before the elf met his gaze and uttered softly, "It is coming."

It appeared before Legolas had even finish speaking or before the others could take up their own weapons. Pallando’s expression was as stone as the leaves upon the ground suddenly lifted into the air in a whirlwind before the path they were attempting to take. The air seemed to shimmer next to this maelstrom and suddenly; appearing before them was the beast they had all come to know as the Hunter. Before Aragorn could give any order to those with him, an arrow flew through the air and struck the creature in the chest. Looking over his shoulder, he knew it was Haldir who had shot the arrow. The Hunter barely flinched at the sting of the point in its flesh. He merely tore the arrowhead from the wound and tossed it aside as he rushed towards Aragorn.

Pallando was better prepared this time and before the Hunter could reach the king of Gondor, the wizard aimed his staff at the beast and sent it flying through the air, crashing into trees and snapping their trunks as his massive body ploughed through the wood like a juggernaut. Pallando leapt off his horse and was preparing to pursue the creature when Aragorn shouted at him to halt.


"Stay together Pallando!" Aragorn ordered. "Only united can we bring it down!"

"No!" Pallando shouted. "Proceed to Imladris, I will deal with this creature!"

However as he spoke, the Hunter burst through the trees, creating a cloud of leaves and dirt as he landed upon the ground before them. The creature swung the sword in its hand with a wide, broad stroke that tore open the flesh of Aragorn’s horse at the lower neck and caused the animal to buck in agony, throwing the king from his saddle to the ground. Aragorn landed hard, his shoulder meeting the earth with jarring intensity that forced a groan of pain from his lips at the impact. However, he scrambled quickly to his feet as he saw the Hunter crossing the space between them rapidly.


"Aragorn drop!" He heard Legolas shout behind and he obeyed immediately, dropping to the ground and raising his head just enough to see a number of arrows flying over his head before striking the beast in the chest.

The Hunter did not shirk off the multiple arrows delivered by Haldir and Legolas respectively as easily as it had done earlier. Instead, the beast registered pain and roared at the attack, however, his eyes were still fixed upon Aragorn and the Hunter determined to reach him. Once again, the king found himself suitably protected by the wizard who placed himself between the Hunter and Aragorn.

"Withdraw!" Pallando shouted, brandishing his staff like a blade. "Withdraw from this realm or die here where you stand!"

"Withdraw?" the Hunter started to laugh as he swung his sword at Pallando who blocked the blow amazingly enough with his staff. The blades bounced off the wizard’s own weapon but the Hunter did not seem bothered about this at all. Its inability to defeat Pallando should have enraged it but instead, the Hunter continued to bellow with laughter as if there were some great joke that only it was privy to. It laughter frightened Aragorn more than anything else that had occurred since leaving Minas Tirith.

"Foolish wizard," the Hunter said with a smile. "This was never about you."

"What?" Pallando felt his heart grow cold and realized in that split second that he had been played for a fool.

Pallando turned around in time to see Legolas who had been hurrying to Aragorn side, suddenly swept up in the air like a leaf caught in a strong gust of wind. The elf barely had time to react before he was slammed hard into a tree, his body crumpling like paper against the assault.

"Legolas!" Aragorn called out, skidding to the elf’s side as Legolas slid to the ground.

The horses ridden by the company were suddenly gripped with a terrible fear that immediately sent them into panic. Though none of the riders could see what it was that frightened the animals so, their terror was real and intense for they soon reared upon their hind legs, attempting to rid themselves of their riders so that they could flee. Gimli was first to be thrown because of all of the company, he was the one who could ride with the least amount of skill. The dwarf cursed as he was ejected from the saddle and landed on the ground beneath the hooves of his steed. He was forced to scramble away because the animal was in such a state of fear that it almost trampled the Lord of the Glittering Caves.

Faramir managed to dismount before he was thrown as unceremoniously as Gimli and he hurried to Haldir’s steed, hoping to calm the horse enough so that the march warden could dismount without coming to harm. Behind them, Elladan’s horse had bolted into the wood, with Elrohir still struggling to remain seated and bring his steed under control at the same time. The air was filled with the sound of the creature’s terrified neighing. Unfortunately, Pallando unable to do anything to aid them because the Hunter was ensuring that he remained preoccupied. Aragorn was trying to administer what aid he could to Legolas who had yet to stir from his unconscious state. A nasty gash was causing a flow of blood on the side of his forehead.

It was into this chaos that Eol emerged.

Aragorn knew it was him without ever laying eyes upon the dark elf. Eol’s eyes fixed upon him instantly and remained there as he made his way towards Aragorn, unflinching at the commotion he had undoubtedly created in order to achieve this face to face meeting with the King of Gondor, his rival for the Evenstar’s affections. In a scabbard hanging at his hip was the sword of Turin or Anglachel as it was named by the one who forged it, in this case Eol himself. Aragorn kept a tighter grip upon Anduril, preparing to battle this thief who had stolen his wife away from her home and her child without conscience or thought.

"Where is she?" Aragorn strode forward to meet Eol on the patch of earth that would become their battleground. There was no need for introductions for they both would know each other by that one demand.


"Beyond your reach," Eol answered smoothly.

"If you have harmed her or dishonored, I will kill you," Aragorn glowered, his hand was itching to spear this villain with his blade for what he had done.

"She is unharmed," Eol retorted, "but she is mine and I will take her accordingly when the time comes."

The manner in which he said those words shattered what restraint Aragorn had admirably managed to show until now. The king rushed forward prepared to separate Eol’s head from his body when suddenly, Eol took a step back and raised his hand and spoke unfamiliar words that Aragorn could not hear. Eol’s eyes seemed to turn black at that moment and suddenly Aragorn felt his body convulse with agony so excruciating that he could do nothing but scream. It was possibly the first time in his life that Aragorn had ever screamed but the pain was beyond anything he had ever known.

"Goodbye King of Gondor," Aragorn heard Eol’s words before oblivion took him into the unknown.

Darkness swept over him and the light of the sky suddenly disappeared abruptly as if a blanket of night had been cast over his head. For a moment, he could not breathe, could not think, all that could be felt was this terrible aogny that would not release him. He did not even notice when Anduril fell from his slackened grip as his throat became hoarse from the screaming. The sound of a great wind rushed through his ears and for an instant, there was this terrible sensation of not being able to discern any sound or be able to see what was before him. He could not even feel the ground beneath his feet.

The first thing he felt when the pain released him and the whirlwind of disorientation in his mind had started to dissipate was the sharp, edges of rock biting into his knees. His hands were digging into the dirt but it was not earth that was beneath his fingers, it was gravel. There was heat against his face that was not like sunshine but fire. He saw Anduril within reach of his hand and quickly wrapped his fingers around the hilt before rising to his feet. As he stood up, attempting to comprehend what it was that Eol had done to him, Aragorn raised his eyes forward and froze. Anduril fell from his grip once again with Aragorn hardly noticing it.

Before him was a vision he had seen only in books and the description though colorful at the time, paled in comparison to the reality. His eyes swept across the cruel landscape of jagged rocks, covered in black ash, where there were fissures, hissing with dark smoke. He could see the rivers of lava meandering through the land from this hilltop he was perched upon while above in the sky, were stars but there was no sun. At last he understood how Eol had survived the First Age to plague Middle Earth in the Fourth, just as he understood where Eol had left him.

For a moment, he was unable to breathe, not because of the foul air that burned his lungs but because he knew that what he was seeing was real and in knowing this, understood how damned he was.

Eol had sent him to Angband.


Chapter 9 - Angband

There was only stunned silence after Aragorn had vanished before their very eyes.

Eol stood before the spot where Aragorn had been standing when he had disappeared, wearing an expression of smug triumph on his face. The earlier commotion had dwindled away into nothingness as all eyes were fixed upon the dark elf that had been the architect of this entire affair. He was not what they had expected for he looked very much like any other elf. If anything, he resembled in appearance, a darker version of Elrond, though no one who made that comparison would dare mention it either Elladan or Elrohir. The elf seemed unconcerned than he was surrounded by the companions of the man he might have killed for all they knew, his expression indicating that they hardly registered to him.


"What have you done?" Faramir demanded, crossing the space between himself and Eol with his sword drawn. In a space of a second, the Lord of Ithilien was holding the point of the blade against Eol’s throat but the elf did not seem at all disturbed by this fact.

"Do not kill him!" Elrohir cried out.

"Why not?" Faramir hissed back, his eyes fixed upon Eol’s and finding his anger growing by how unperturbed the elf appeared, even with a sword to his throat.

"Because you need me if you wish to get your precious King back alive," Eol said with a little smile.

"Is he still alive?" Haldir asked dubiously as he stood alongside Faramir, his bow was armed and ready to shoot. Despite the fact that Pallando and the Hunter had stopped battling momentarily, the march warden was poised and ready for the resumption of hostilities.

"That depends entirely on him," Eol replied calmly.

"I would be a little clearer with your answers elf!" Faramir jabbed the sword against Eol’s throat with a little more force. He was not afraid of breaking skin if he had to gain his answers.

Seconds ticked by and still Eol was determined to prolong their torture for as long as he was able. Gimli had managed to rouse Legolas from his limbo state while Elladan returned to the company, only to have Elrohir explain what had happened as they waited for Eol to speak. The Hunter and Pallando had reached a stalemate for the time being as both become concerned with the unfolding situation that was more pressing than their present battle. The Hunter watched its master under the threat of Faramir’s blade, debating whether or not it should intervene even though it knew its master had great power at his disposal. Still the sight of the blade against his throat gave the Hunter reason to doubt.

"I will return him if he agrees to leave Imladris without the Evenstar and never return," Eol responded.

"He will never agree to that!" Elladan declared before anyone else could speak. "She is his wife. They have been bound to each other for the last sixty years! They have a son!"

"Those are my terms," Eol repeated himself, caring little about the bonds made by the Edain. "I will not allow her to squander her immortality by being bound to a human. She is mine, I have taken her and by the right of marriage that I will soon claim her, I will also claim Imladris."

"Never," Elrohir hissed. "You will never have my father’s city."

"You did not have any difficulty abandoning it," Eol returned swiftly.

"We cannot accept your terms," Faramir spoke up for the first time, despite the blade he held against Eol’s throat. "The fate of Arwen is not ours to make. Bring Aragorn back and he can decide for himself."

"I think I will leave him where he is for the moment," Eol started to smile evilly. "Let him fully understand his situation and what he risks by not complying with my desires."

"Where is he?" Gimli demanded angrily, now that Legolas was on his feet, albeit rather shakily.

"Someplace where I am certain he will not enjoy," the elf said elusively.

"Where is he?" Pallando asked, filling this growing dread inside of him at the confidence in Eol’s manner that Aragorn would agree to anything if he were brought back.

Eol turned to him and said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice, "Angband."

"Angband no longer exists!" Elrohir exploded. "It was destroyed."

There was fear and confusion running rife through the company as they tried to comprehend how Eol could send Aragorn to a place that no longer existed. Even if it were true, to think that their friend had been sent to a place more terrible then Mordor could ever be was beyond their ability to imagine. Faramir’s blade dropped from Eol’s throat in shock for he knew perfectly well that Eol was not lying. This was the only answer that made any sense as to why Eol and the Hunter had suddenly found themselves in Middle earth, two ages since they were meant to have lived.

"You sent him to Angband," Faramir stated, the words escaped him like a strangled gasp.

"Its impossible!" Gimli cried out, refusing to believe it still. "Angband was destroyed with the rest of Beleriand."

"It was destroyed," Faramir glared at Eol’s hateful expression of amusement. "He had sent Aragorn through time. That is how he is here, how he has brought the Hunter here. He moves through time like we would move through the air."

"Bring him back!" Elladan was upon the elf in an instant, blades drawn to replace the one that Faramir had lowered. "BRING HIM BACK NOW!"

"Not until he concedes to my terms!" Eol hissed back fearlessly. "I will do nothing until it is agreed that you will take him from here with the understanding that he will never return to his realm, nor will any of you. Arwen will be mine and we will live out our immortal existence here in Imladris."

"Has she no choice in this?" Legolas demanded, unable to believe than any elf would take a woman by force.

"She is a woman," Eol turned to him coldly. "I do not require her permission in this, just her obedience."

"That woman is our sister," Elladan said in voice that might have been a low snarl. "We are not leaving without her."

"Then you will never see your King again," Eol retorted.

"Enough of this," Pallando grabbed Eol by the throat and concentrated hard. He was no mind reader but he knew how to draw what he needed from those who would not speak their secrets. It was surprisingly easy enough to find what he sought in Eol’s mind for the elf did not resist and gave up the information easily. Of course, Pallando knew the reason for that but at this moment he had no choice but to play Eol’s game. He only hoped he would be able to reach Aragorn in time.

When Pallando had from Eol what he needed, the wizard released him and stepped back, "none of you can help me in this. I must retrieve him alone."

"You can do that?" Faramir stared at the wizard.

"I can try," Pallando replied as he stepped away from them and began reciting the words that had only a short time ago been spoken by Eol.

Neither Eol nor the Hunter did anything to stop him as Pallando began reciting the spell. He hoped those he left behind would be able to cope in his absence as the task before him was his alone to fulfill, the others could not help him though he wished he had strength enough to bring them with him. However, this effort was going to drain him enough and if Aragorn was still alive in the hellish place that Eol had sent him, then Pallando would have to bring him back as well. He had to conserve all his energy to do what was needed. Aragorn had believed in him even when Pallando had doubted himself. It was not often a Maiar could feel less than he was and even rarer when there was someone who could speak the words that would make an immortal believe in himself again.

And for that, there was no distance Pallando would not cross to save the King of Gondor.

Just as suddenly as Aragorn had disappeared before them, Pallando had not done the same, leaving behind his company with Eol and the Hunter. Eol did not seemed displeased by the departure of the Istar as everything had fallen in accordance to his design. Elladan’s blade had returned to its position against the elf’s neck, the prince of Imladris was more than willing to kill the dark elf now that his bluff was called. Haldir, Legolas, Gimli and Elrohir had surrounded the Hunter, for the beast was most likely to lash out to save its master.

"Now what terms do you give us?" Elladan hissed.

"Stupid, arrogant elf," Eol turned a sharp eye upon him. "Do you think for one instant that you were ever a threat to me?

Without saying another word, Eol exerted his powers and sent Elladan flying through the air in much the same manner as he had done to Legolas in order to reach Aragorn earlier.

"Elladan!" Elrohir cried out momentarily distracted by his brother’s predicament.

Elladan made his landing upon the ground at the base of a tree, his body slamming hard against the wood as he uttered a cry of pain. Faramir moved in quickly to attack only to be met with Eol’s blade, the same weapon that the elf had taken from his wife after almost killing her.


"I do not know which offend me more," Eol retorted as he struck Anglachel against Faramir’s sword. "Your stupidity or your presumption."

Suddenly Faramir felt an invisible swept the legs from under him and he came down upon the ground hard, landing on his back with enough force to ensure the loss of his weapon from his grip. He scrambled to get to his feet but did not manage any more than sitting upright before his neck met the point of Eol’s sword. The dark elf looked down upon him with open contempt and replied, icily.

"If I had not already promised my servant that he could do with you as he wished, I would kill you now Edain but as it is, I have my lady to attend. Thus I shall leave you with a little gesture of farewell, no more fitting than what you gave me earlier," he touched the small spot of blood on his neck where Faramir had broken skin. Pressing the tip of Anglachel against Faramir’s cheek, Eol pulled back and was rewarded by a hiss of pain from the Lord of Ithilien as blood spilled from his torn skin.

"Farewell Prince of Ithilien," Eol said as he stepped away from Faramir and turned to the Hunter that had been waiting only his word to act, despite the warriors that surrounded it. Eol’s eyes met the beasts but briefly before he turned on his heels, his cloak trailing behind him as if he were some dark vengeful, not needing to see the faces around him as he uttered his final order.

"Kill them all."

************

Today was a day of firsts for Aragorn Elessar, King of the Reunified Kingdom.

He had screamed possibly for the first time in his life today and now he was trapped in a strange, terrifying place with no idea what to do or where to go. This lost, rudderless sensation was alien to a man whose life had followed a certain destiny despite all his efforts to be true to his own desires and not be shaped too much by prophecy. Aragorn had never known a day when he was so utterly and completely lost. Even when Arwen had been stolen from the palace and he had been disheartened by the lack of trail to follow, he had not been faced with this sheer obstruction of unknowing that confronted him now.

From his vantagepoint which a little crag of rock jutting from the walls of a three peaked volcanic mountain, he could see the molten rivers of lava running through the gaps between the fortress that was built within it. The structures were carved out of the dried lava, dark, ugly things with sharp edges that protected by its formidable and fearsome appearance, the underground armory that would be known throughout history as the Iron Prison. It was from these pits that all the dark things of the world were created - the orcs, the trolls, the Balrogs, the drakes and fouler things than Aragorn could ever remember. The Hunter was spawned here as his eyes moved along the surface of this obscene land, he saw the carved entrance of the prison against the far edge of the volcanic wall.

It was carved out of black volcanic ash and rocks, adorned with the bones of creatures he could not name but surely did not call natural. He saw the great steps that led through it dark doors and the through them, entered the legions of orc troops that were scattered across the top of the fortress. The orcs were not alone for as Aragorn watched in mesmerized horror, he saw a world bathed in the amber flame of the lava while the cool of the stars seemed far away. Angband was destroyed in the First Age of the Sun. in the War of the Wrath. As Aragorn looked at the sky above him, he saw no moon and in its absence felt a sliver of terror running through him at the realization that he had been brought into world before his race had even emerged at Hildorien. Melkor still ruled and Sauron existed here as his most loyal disciple.

The enormity of his situation was enough to terrify even the bravest of men but Aragorn knew he had to leave this place, he had escape somehow and find aid in Beleriand. His people did not exist but the elves, thank Elbereth, the elves had been born with the stars. They could help him although he feared that they would be confused by what he was. Unfortunately, he had little choice but to seek their aid. He could not remain here for it would not be too long before the creatures below discovered his presence and Aragorn had no wish to see the inside of the Iron Prison or meet Sauron face to face.

He stepped away from the rocky ledge assessing his situation and how he might leave this place behind him. The crag of rock upon which he stood, followed the mighty wall of the volcano but the way narrow in places and some of it disappeared into the mountain itself. With no idea what may lay waiting inside those caverns, Aragorn had no desire to go wandering beneath Angband but he had little choice. He could not believe that there was no way to escape the volcano and however treacherous the path might be, he had to find it somehow. Arwen was waiting for him in their own time to save her from Eol’s insane obsession of her.

Wasting no more time, Aragorn began his descent down the narrow pathway, keeping Anduril firmly in his hand and forcing himself to swallow the swell of fear that was rising from the pit of his stomach each time his eyes shifted towards the fortress below him. He tried not to shudder at the sight of the orcs or the trolls, tried to ignore the dragons that were feasting on dead carcasses upon the rocks, their hot breath burning to cinder what flesh their teeth did not rend. Aragorn could hear the howling of wolves and knew that they were nothing like the kind that he knew back in his own time.

The darkness kept him concealed as he moved quietly down the path, his feet making little sound as his boots crunched against the hard ground. The silence disturbed him greatly and he could hear the endless screaming of tortured voices emanating from the cracks of the fortress. Since the appearance of the Hunter, Aragorn had been told the story of how Melkor had abducted some of the elves who rose from Cuiviénen, the Water of Awakening and had tortured them until they were turned into orcs. As he heard those screams reaching out from the darkness of the pit, he wondered how many were there now, suffering torment he was in no position to deliver them from.

So far his presence had gone about unnoticed as he skimmed the edge of the wall, frightened beyond belief but forcing himself to remember who he was and if nothing else, to be true to himself even if he was die here without ever seeing Arwen again. He did not know how long he could remain anonymous as his path took him further into the mouth of the volcano. Aragorn knew what he was basing a great deal upon the hope that this path led into a cavern that might led him out of the pit instead of deeper into it. Unfortunately, he had had little choice but to follow it.

The air was fell and reminded Aragorn of the odor that lingered about Mordor during the siege at the Black Gates. He did not know how long he walked down the path unnoticed but after a time, the path emptied into a cavern and Aragorn took a deep breath as he found himself standing at the mouth of it. The air within smelled rancid and his instincts told him that he should not enter but he had little choice in the matter since the path allowed him to go no other way. Taking a deep breath, he stepped within, wishing that he could make a torch of some kind so that he could see within its darkness. Unfortunately there was no wood he could use for if there had been anything like a tree growing in this place, it would have been destroyed long ago.

Stepping into the darkness, his hand immediately clasped at the wall of the cavern, using it to move through the pitch-black confines. His heart was pounding loudly as he moved through this overwhelming darkness, his eyes searching for any light any finding none. Aragorn’s hand clutched Anduril tight, if he could see he would have noticed that his knuckles were white from fear. Beads of sweat formed upon his brow, their salt trickling in a slow roll down his cheek. He tried his best to slow his breathing for he worried that in this darkness, he might not be alone and what traverse this cavern might be better able to see him then he could see them.

He crawled along the wall, ignoring the slimy feel of the rock against the surface as he moved across the ground, occasionally having to side step a boulder or some protrusion of rock that he happened upon. He did not know how long he traveled through the darkness before he heard a sound that was not consistent with his footsteps. He froze in his steps, trying not to make a sound until he knew what was in the cavern with him. He did not even know when one cavern had begun or where another had ended. All he could think to do was hold his ground and prayed that whatever had moved had not seen him or would pass by. Aragorn despised his helplessness but this was a realm and a time in which Balrogs had roamed the world freely and in the open, in great armies of darkness that mortal man was never meant to face. Aragorn often wondered how the elves had survived at all.

Hello little one. 

The voice was not a spoken word but he heard it inside his head. The words were slurred and strange, almost like Black Speech but not quite spoken in the tongue of the Orcs. He supposed even in the culture of such beasts, language evolved through the ages and this speak he was hearing was most likely archaic by the standards of orcs in his time. Aragorn did not answer, he dared not give whatever had spoken evidence of his presence.

I see you little one. 


Little one, Aragorn swallowed thickly, recalling how Boromir had called the hobbits that and felt a shudder of fear at thinking that whatever was speaking considered him ‘little’. He brandished his sword in a stance of attack even though he could hear nothing, not even the breathing of whatever had spoken to him in this wordless method he could hear inside his mind but not in his ears.

I do not think your blade will be able to help you much. This is my domain. 

Aragorn started to retreat the way he came, thinking of no other course left to him. His ability to breath shallow had all but vanished and he knew he was panting hard as he moved back along the wall, his back facing the stone he tried to see in vain what was speaking to him. His sword was held out before him and he forced himself to calm down before his panic at his near blindness cost him his life. Slowly, his panting lessened as he groped the stone in his retreat. His eyes searching wildly for some semblance of shape or form that would allow him to defend himself.

What are you little one?

There was genuine curiosity in its voice even if it was strange to hear. Once again, Aragorn wondered what it was that was speaking to him. It did not sound like the speech of Orcs of any description. Aragorn shook his head of the question because the last thing he needed to be at this moment was curious. Suddenly, he felt a hard obstruction against his foot and before he could stop himself, he went tumbling to the dirt in a clumsy heap.

Be careful little one, you are in enough peril without hurting yourself in a fall.

Aragorn swore under his breath, still gripping Anduril in his hand as he forced himself to his feet again when suddenly he heard movement. Something like footsteps but it was fast and rapid, like the drumming of fingers against the dirt. The unfamiliarity of it made him place his hand against the wall and start running, for he could think of no other way to hasten his departure when he had no idea what it was that was following him.

A chase, little one? You do spoil me.

Aragorn felt his heart pounding as he moved awkwardly, his foot periodically kicking rock in his race to escape the cavern, giving him warning enough to avoid the jutting rocks that had dwindled his hope for a rapid exit. He paused at times to hear how far it was behind him but there was no sound other than the drumming against the dirt he could no identify but struck terror into his heart each time he heard it. It was pursuing him no doubt but how far it was, or what it was for that matter was something that the darkness around him would not allow Aragorn to answer.

You are spirited, that is for certain but you still do not answer my question.

What question? Aragorn thought involuntarily in his mind when he heard it speak again.

What are you? You are not Eldar. You do not have the lustre of Varda upon you and you are too big to be one of Aule’s spawn.

Aragorn did not respond and tried not to think of a response either since it was apparent that whatever it was that was pursuing him was also a mind reader of sorts. Aragorn did not wish to allow this creature to have any more power over him than it already did. He kept his eyes fixed ahead on the path he could not see, his hand pressed against the wall so that he would not lose himself from the only thing that was capable of guiding him out of this cavern. Death was drawing so close that he could feel its breath against his spine.

You are capable of speaking, I heard you curse. You must be Quendi. 

Quendi, Aragorn thought quickly. The elves believed had believed in their first emergence that they were the only ones who could speak. It was said that they tauhgt the other races this speech but in the early days of their existence, when they still dwelt at Cuivienen, they called themselves Quendi being ‘those who speak with voices'.

I do not think I should kill you, I think I should bring you to my lord. I sense that he will want to know what you are. 

Aragorn did not think this was a reprieve in any case. He had no wish to be brought before Melkor or possibly Sauron, he was not certain who commanded Angband at this time. However, a surge of hope filled him upon seeing the amber light from the outside world peering through the mouth of the cavern in which he had entered. Relief forced him to move faster and the dawning illumination allowed him to see something of the path ahead of him.

Aragorn did not even bother to consider those words and their terrible implications as he broke through the entrance of the cavern and took a hungry breath of air. It did not smell remotely like fresh air but it was better than the foul stench he had been breathing ever since he had entered the cavern. He was uncertain of what to do now and hurried up the path against the volcano wall that he had descended to enter that cave. He studied the outcrop he had been standing upon and supposed that he might try climbing the wall behind it, though it would not be easy to scale its height. However, anything had to be better then where he had been.

The sound of that drumming against the gravel forced Aragorn to turn around and when he did, his eyes widened in horror as he stumbled backwards and found his head raising upwards to meet the gaze of two ruby colored eyes the size of his skull each. Mandibles flexed in anticipation of a meal, a thin line of saliva clinging to remain attached to the widening jaws. Its black skin gleamed in amber light as its numerous legs supported its round abdomen smaller thorax and even smaller head. However, despite this decrease, the beast still stood over his head. In his time, there was only one of these creatures in its terrible purity still in existence and that beast had met its end at the hands of Samwise Gamgee in Cirith Ungol. Until now, Aragorn had not appreciated how incredible that feat was to have been managed by a small hobbit, not when he was faced with one himself.

The spider looked at him with its blood red compound eyes and though it was not capable of producing such an expression, Aragorn was certain it was smiling when it spoke to him.

Talk for me Quendi. Tell me what you are. I wish to know upon what I feast. 

**********

Completely unaware of what her husband was enduring at this moment, even though he was ages in the past, Arwen Evenstar was still nonetheless a bundle of anxious nerves as she waited for news of the Estel’s encounter with Eol. She knew when the dark elf had left her father’s house because the Hunter had brought to his attention the presence of intruders approaching the barrier that Eol had surrounded Imlardis. She would have tried to escape the moment he left if not for the painful realisation that she had not the strength to penetrate the enchantment he kept in place to ensure no one left Imladris without his permission. Thus she was forced to linger and wait for his return or Estel’s if her beloved defeated the sorcerer whose captive she was.

Waiting inside the suite of rooms that used to be hers when she still lived in Imladris, Arwen felt her impatience grow with each second that passed. As her gaze swept across her old room her frustration reached new heights when it appeared that that the rooms were made to look as if she had had never left it. Arwen wondered if this was for the purpose of maintaining the illusion that she was still a maid that had yet to be presented to a husband. She wondered what insanity had possessed Eol that he was so determined to believe that she could forget Aragorn and Eldarion simply because he wished it so. It further convinced her that he was indeed mad as she suspected for a sane man could not be as obsessed as he was about her.

Finally she could bear the waiting no longer and she ventured forth from her room, determined to learn the fate of her people who were similarly trapped as she. Arwen refused to entertain the notion that Eol might have killed them all because she could not bring herself to believe that any member of the Eldar, even one as insane as Eol could do anything so terrible as murder so many of his own race. They had to be somewhere, she told herself as she walked down the empty corridors of her father’s house. However, as she was faced with its emptiness, Arwen started to realize that there was a very strong argument for the possibility that Eol had done the unthinkable.

Pausing at the balcony that looked upon the splendor of Imladris, all Arwen saw was a city shrouded in silence and emptiness. The quiet streets and the prevailing silence that Arwen found herself observing with growing alarm made Imladris appear haunted and sinister, hardly the atmosphere of peace and light this place was meant to represent. She wondered where her people were and her fears from them grew almost to the point where she was able to forget her own miserable situation as Eol’s captive. Did he intend them to live here alone, with only each other for company, taken care of by Morfiniel and guarded by the Hunter? The thought made her shudder in fear and rekindled her desire to find her mother’s old friend.

Fortunately, she did not have to search too far for Morfiniel as the lady appeared on the balcony soon after the thought had crossed her mind, seeking Arwen instead. Morfiniel appeared clearly unhappy to find Arwen where she did for her face was filled with apprehension as she hurried to the Evenstar.

"My lady, you should not here out of your room," Morfiniel replied, looking about anxiously as if she were terrified that Eol might return unexpectedly.

"I cannot escape Imladris as it is Morfiniel," Arwen said sourly. "I refuse to be imprisoned in a room as well."


"But the Master will be angry," Morfiniel spoke softly, her eyes darting about like a frightened animal. Seeing her in such a state of anxiety deepened Arwen’s hatred of the dark elf.

"He is not your master," Arwen snapped. "He has already taken our home and freedom, do not let him break your spirit as well."

"But he will be angry and he will hurt you," Morfiniel warned, meeting Arwen’s gaze and showing the Evenstar that she worried not so much for herself but for her old friend’s cherished daughter.

"He would not hurt me," Arwen replied, taking the woman’s hands in her own, her voice bitter as she spoke. "I am his prized possession. I doubt he would do anything to jeopardize the beauty of his bride."

"Oh my lady," Morfiniel’s eyes filled with emotion, "I am so sorry that he has done this to you. Did he harm anyone in your abduction?"

"He hurt my friends," Arwen explained sadly, glad that she could speak to someone else for a change. It seemed like forever since she last spoke to anyone other then Eol. "I hope they still live because the beasts’ attack upon them was brutal."

"And the babe?" Morfiniel inquired again, almost afraid to ask the question. Morfiniel knew that the Evenstar had been with child and supposed that the child would have been born by know.

"He did not harm Eldarion," Arwen allowed her a little smile of gratitude at that revelation before her anger tainted that as well, "only because he had no use for a half breed whelp as he called it."

"Better for the child then," Morfiniel turned away. "To be free at least and spared our fate."

"Our fate?" Arwen exclaimed in shock at Morfiniel’s defeatist words. She did not remember the lady being so disheartened before. "Morfiniel, Estel will come for us. He will not allow this elf to keep up prisoner in this manner."

Morfiniel faced Arwen again, her eyes were sad and shamed. "You do not understand my lady, he is too powerful to be stopped. I saw what he did to our people….."

"Are they dead?" Arwen asked, her voice became a pitched demand. She had not wanted to believe that Eol was capable of murdering the people of Imladris but the pained expression in Morfiniel’s eyes made her think the worst.

"No," Morfiniel answered after what seemed an eternity of unknowing. "They are not dead."

"Then where are they?" Arwen demanded.

"They are here," the lady answered hesitantly.

"In the city?" Arwen’s brow furrowed in confusion, her gaze shifting to Imladris below her and taking note of its haunting emptiness before facing Morfiniel again. "Why do they remain hidden? Are they afraid of the Hunter? Did he harm them?" She asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.

To think that elven blood had been spilled in Imladris was more than she could stomach. A part of her wanted to remain in the bliss of ignorance but in the absence of her brothers and her father, the people of Imladris were her responsibility and that concern overrode her fears for herself.

"I cannot answer your question but to show you," Morfiniel finally confessed. "And I fear doing so for the consequences to both of us."

"You must show me Morfiniel," Arwen gripped her shoulders so that the woman understood how serious she was about this. "If we are to help our people, I must know what has happened to them."

Morfiniel nodded slowly despite the fear in her eyes at what would be the consequences should Imladris’ new master discover them but when the Evenstar commanded, Morfiniel could do nothing but obey. After all, Arwen was very much her father’s daughter and secretly, Morfiniel prayed that she had Elrond’s strength for never had Imladris needed it more.

"I will take you my lady," she said after a moment. "Whatever the consequences, I will show you what has happened to our people."

************

"Kill them."

The words hung in the air for but a split second before the Hunter uttered a growl of relish that echoed through the woods about them. For so long it had been restrained by duty to the elf, a creature it would have once considered too beneath it to be commanded by. Yet this elf had revealed a streak of darkness that convinced the Hunter that the one of Varda’s stars that shone upon the race at their creation was a dark star indeed for Eol was the personification of its essence. There was evil in him that the Hunter could respect and it was better to serve a master who was lesser than the one it had known in a previous life then to have none at all.

The enemy rallied against it were a curious collection of Eldar, Aule’s little people and the new race, the Edain as he had come to learn since being brought into this realm. They were united in their cause, doomed together by their assumption that it could be killed by the likes of them. The Hunter wanted to laugh, wanted to show them how wrong they were before it tore them from limb to limb but oh so slowly for such pleasures should never be rushed. They spread out after the Master had departed, arrogant in their belief that his words were spoken in boast, not realizing how much it had been waiting for that order. The memory of its defeat in Edoras lingered upon its mind and though it was the Maiar that it would have preferred to pit itself against, it could be satisfied with the morsel his master had tossed in its direction.

"I thought I would never hear those words," the Hunter smiled at its prey, more than prepared to shatter the illusion of control they thought they had over the situation.

The elves had surrounded the Hunter, Faramir noted after Eol had gone and he had recovered enough wits to retrieve his sword and join the battle. Considering their history with this particular creature, Faramir was somewhat impressed by how bravely they faced an enemy that frightened them on such a primitive level. The Hunter had been the first non-elven creature the race had encountered, even before their discovery by Orome of the Valar. The Hunter and the beast known as the Dark Rider, a creature almost as elusive as the Hunter itself and of whom almost nothing was known, had taken the new race to Melkor who tortured and mutilated them into Orcs over centuries of torment and breeding.

"Do you think you can defeat me?" The Hunter rumbled arrogantly at them as he raised his mighty sword. "Your kind has always been weak. Children of the Stars indeed! They did not know you existed until my master paid attention. Do you think you were apart of some grand design? Some plan? Your priceless arrogance should be a comedy written for the ages, a reminder to stupidity in its grandest form."

"How we came to be is our concern," Legolas declared, unaffected by the cruel words because he had heard worse in his time and had seen greater things to tear the soul asunder then the taunting of a sadist whose pleasure came from inflicting pain. "You judge us by those you faced in the First Age, when our race was new and innocent. We have come a long way since then and thanks to your Master and his servants, we have been hardened like steel in fire."

"The pretty one thinks he’s hardened like steel?" The Hunter began to laugh and giving Legolas no warning whatsoever, swung his mighty blade at the Lord of Eden Ardhon. Legolas saw the sword coming at him that had taken Orophin’s life and immediately leapt out of the way.

The minute the beast had swung, Haldir whose bow was poised and ready, shot an arrow straight for the Hunter’s throat. The arrow lodged deeply into the Hunter’s neck and tore the creatures attention away from Legolas who was soon on his feet and aiming his own bow and arrow at the enemy. The Hunter’s eyes narrowed in hatred as he bellowed at Haldir and tore the arrow from his neck, flinching as he did so. Clutching the bloody stalk in his hand, he surged forward, preparing to spear the march warden with the projectile when another arrow caught him in the back. This one came from the bow of Legolas and the archer immediately shot again, impaling the Hunter with as many arrows as he could before the beast turned at his direction.

"The pretty one is swift indeed," the Hunter growled and flung his sword as Legolas. Legolas found himself having to dive out of the way as the large weapon flew past him. If it had struck, it would have ripped his body apart without wavering slightly in its course. However, the Hunter was not done with him yet. The beast strode forward towards the archer, his massive body moving far swifter than anything that large should be capable of doing.

"Legolas run!" Gimli cried out as he threw his axe at the Hunter. The weapon spun through the air in a circular motion, creating a whoosh of sound as it cut a path towards the enemy. The axe slammed into the Hunter’s shoulder, with sufficient force to ensure that arrows might be an evil he could shirt off but the blade of a dwarf axe was another thing entirely. The Hunter paused long enough to roar in pain as the weapon sunk into his flesh, surprised by the pain and also somewhat shocked that it could be hurt to such an extent. Glaring at the dwarf, he flung the arrow at Gimli previously intended for Haldir, which it still clutched in its bloody hand.

The arrow flew at Gimli as if it had been shot from a bow. The dwarf dropped to the ground, allowing it to fly over his head, to dig harmlessly into the ground. As the Hunter panted hard, examining the wound at his side, he was once again assailed on all fronts by the company. Haldir had resumed shooting arrows at the beast, each point that pierced the Hunter’s flesh was revenge against all the things that Orophin would never see because his life had been savagely cut short. All his brother had ever wanted to do was see what the world had to offer and because of this abomination from Melkor’s pit, Orophin would never even see Valinor. There would never be enough arrows or pain Haldir could inflict upon this beast to make up for that.

Suddenly, the beast vanished before their eyes but they knew that he had not fled from the battle.

"Remain still!" Legolas ordered for the benefit of those without elven senses. There was too much commotion to discern where the Hunter walked in the shadow world and everyone fell still, trying to draw out the creature’s whereabouts.

"I sense it," Elladan spoke in almost a whisper, his eyes narrowing in hatred that had been growing inside him, ever since he had watched Orophin murdered in front of his shocked eyes. The horror of that was branded into his memory with such fierce intensity that he could tell no one of it, certainly not Haldir who tormented enough by his brother’s death. "The beast is still here."

Suddenly, Gimli went flying through the air. The dwarf let out an indignant cry as his stocky body was flung aside like a rag doll. Legolas’ eyes widened in horror as he watched his friend land hard against the ground unmoving. Without thinking, the Prince formerly of Mirkwood and presently of Eden Ardhon dashed to his friend’s side. He skidded across the dried leaves that covered the ground next to Gimli who had rolled onto his back, his head lolled to his side.

The others spread out around the clearing, hearing footsteps crushing foliage underfoot as the beast ran unseen towards Legolas. Haldir had begun shooting his arrows again but he was unable to know for certain if he was shooting in the correct direction. As the Hunter drew close to Legolas, Haldir had to stop shooting all together for fear of striking either the elf or his dwarf companion. Faramir brandished his sword and chose a more direct method of attack, if only to distract the Hunter and give the others something to aim their arrows and blades at. He managed to place himself between his two friends and slashed wildly at the air before him, hoping that his random slices would yield results. When he heard a growl of pain, he knew he had struck flesh and his blade suddenly became black with blood.

Unfortunately, his triumph was short lived when he heard Elrohir shout frantically, "Faramir, step back!"

Faramir had less than a split second of time to withdraw to avoid Orophin’s fate under the Hunter’s invisible blade. Elven senses could not see the sword but knew when extreme danger was coming. However, it was discovered, the timely warning was not to be ignored even though he could not escape entirely unscathed. His tunic was ripped open as he felt a gust of air before him and then there was pain as a red slash appeared across his chest. He uttered a small cry of pain as the blood flowed from the open wound and heard the Hunter’s sinister laugh.

"Monster!" Elrohir shouted angrily and rammed his sword into the beast’s body, his senses telling him where the creature was at that moment. He buried the blade to the hilt, feeling its sink into unseen flesh and feeling muscle tense around its steel.

A thundered howl filled the air before Elorhir felt a powerful fist slam into the side of his head. The power behind the blow lifted him off his feet, blacking out the world from his mind in a wave of uncontrollable disorientation. He did not even grasp that he was flying through the air in much the same way that Gimli had been thrown before. All he felt was the side of his face was burning with heat and pain and that he could feel blood filling up his mouth. His shoulder met the earth first and Elrohir heard the sickening crunch of bone, followed by another surge of stabbing pain.

Haldir saw Elrohir fall and tossed away his bow for he had no more arrows left to fire. He saw the leaves rustle and a great weight crushing them as the Hunter ran towards him. He could not see the beast but he could see its heavy steps approaching. Haldir pulled out his sword and threw it like a javelin, watching the blade streak through the air like a spear. It struck something in mid air and another rumble of pain followed as he was treated to the odd sight of the sword imbedded in the creature’s invisible flesh suspended in mid air. Another swoosh of sound was heard and he could hear the rush of air against something above his head. He dove out of the way, his body dragging across the dirt and dead leaves as the Hunter’s blade left its indent in the soil at the place where he had been standing.

"Come here little elf," the Hunter hissed. "Come here and share your brother’s fate!"

Haldir saw the rotting foliage rustling and soil being unearthed around the indent where the beast’s blade had sunk. It did not take Haldir long to realize that the Hunter was retrieving his sword and was about to swing again. Scrambling to his feet, he looked around for a weapon and saw Faramir’s blade lying against the dirt. Haldir made a dash for it and was about to put his hand upon the hilt when suddenly, the long blade snapped in half. The blade split like kindling and Haldir could see the sword he had put into the Hunter’s belly still hanging in the air above his head.

"Perhaps you would like your sword back," the Hunter taunted, regarding the blade impaled upon his body. "Maybe I should return it to you in the same manner."

"Maybe, you should withdraw while you can," Elladan’s voice spoke over that of the beast.

The Hunter never had the opportunity to respond to Elladan’s taunt as an arrow bathed in flame flew from his bow. The arrow struck deep into the Hunter’s flesh above the place where Haldir’s sword was imbedded. Elladan had held back, preparing his own attack as his companions fought the Hunter bravely and gave him the precious time needed to finish this battle. He did not know if he could kill the beast in this manner but before he was done, the Hunter would know pain, of that Elladan was determined. As soon as the first had flown, Elladan was preparing another to fly and soon he was shooting arrow after flaming arrow at the beast with such speed that the creature could do nothing but scream in outrage. The Hunter began running towards Elladan, preparing to deliver a deathblow but could not complete the journey because he was soon engulfed in fire. The beast let out a terrible shriek of fear and defeat as its body ignited.

As the oil covered arrows burned and spread their flame across the beast’s body the Hunter became an amber wraith within the clearing, struggling against the fire. In a howl of what could only be despair and agony, the beast surged past them, its arms flailing as it ran out of their sight, no doubt to douse its fiery state in the river. Whatever its fate, Elladan did not care because his thoughts were of his friends and his brother’s who had fought the beast valiantly and deserved the interlude this brutal immolation had given them.

Elladan did not realize that he was holding his breath until he heard Elrohir groan and then it escaped him like a gust of wind. His legs began moving and he ran towards his brother who was trying to push himself to his hands and knees. As he hurried to his brother, he saw that the others had not fared as well. Legolas was contending with both Faramir and Gimli as Haldir picked himself off the ground. Faramir’s injury had drawn blood but judging by the manner in which the Lord of Ithilien as examining the gash across his chest, it was not as grievous as it appeared.

"Elrohir, are you all right?" Elladan took his brother’s arm and helped him to his feet. Elrohir’s shoulder was slumped to one side and he winced as he rose. There was blood running down the corner of his mouth and the side of his face was turning a deep shade of purple.

"Yes," Elrohir nodded, still a little dazed but seemed more focus when he raised his head and fixed his eye upon his brother and stated, "you saved us."

"I did nothing but give that beast something to think about," Elladan replied. "It will be back, I am sure of it."


"That was well met nonetheless," Haldir, added his own comment as he approached the twins. "If it were not for you, I would be dead by now. Thank you."

Elladan added softly, "I could not let it kill you as it did Orophin. I owe your brother that at least."

"You owe my brother nothing," Haldir replied, aware that Orophin’s death had its own effect upon the prince, "you did not kill him, that accursed beast did that."

Elladan nodded and turned to Faramir who was dabbing the wound across his chest with a shred of his tunic; wincing each time he made contact with the flesh.

"Faramir, how badly are you hurt?

"The cut stings," Faramir looked up with a frown, "but it is not deep. Your warning was timely Elrohir."

"I wish it would have saved you the injury though," Elrohir grunted through his swollen mouth.

"I am alive," Faramir reminded. "That is good enough."

"What about the Master Dwarf?" Haldir called out to Legolas who was attempting to revive Gimli. The dwarf had landed hard but appeared to be slowly coming out of his unconscious state.

"I do not see any great injury," Legolas retorted. "I think he is merely dazed. It would take more than the Hunter to crack his tough head," the elf joked, if only to make himself feel better.

Gimli snorted suddenly, his eyes flew open and he sat up suddenly, "where is he?" Gimli demanded.

"It is gone for now," Legolas said quickly, calming the spirited dwarf. "Elladan chased it away."

"And just in time as well," Faramir added, "Our losses were starting to mount."

"He will be back," Elladan declared firmly. "We must be ready for him."

"We will be," Haldir said with a determined voice. "We can hurt him now and it knows it. It will not be as confident to face us all as it was before. It has learnt we are not as helpless as we were when it hunted our kind in the First Age."

"I think we should proceed to Imladris," Faramir replied as he stood up shakily and sought out the horses. His own had stopped struggling and returned to the clearing following the spell that Eol had cast upon it and like any well prepared Ranger, he had stocked some supplies for the treatment of minor injuries.

"I agree," Haldir responded, brushing himself off. "We should strike while the beast is weakened."

"We are not exactly in the best shape ourselves," Elladan pointed out, his desire for vengeance was not as important as his brother’s welfare. "Some of you need to rest and recover."

"I’ll be damned if I let that monster get away because of a bump on the head," Gimli declared haughtily as he stood up on his feet to prove how fit he was to fit. "I say we hunt the blasted thing down and finish it once and for all!"

"You cannot fault him for spirit," Legolas remarked with a little smile at his friend’s spirited declaration, garnering a look from Gimli.

"Then let us take a moment to tend our injuries and be off," Elladan declared, unprepared to go anywhere until they had looked at Elrohir’s arm which did not appear as good a condition as his brother would have them believe.

"Come along then pretty one," Gimli retorted as he started after Faramir and the horses.

"Very funny," Legolas growled under his breath as he followed the dwarf.

 

**************

The spider did not move.

It remained motionless before Aragorn, its red eyes gleaming under the fiery light emanating form the rivers of lava that ran throughout the pits of Angband. Aragorn debated what to do as he stood before the beast, with Anduril held in his grasp in readiness to defend himself when the spider finally attacked. So far, the creature was contented to let him make the opening move and Aragorn wondered if the sensible course would be to run although there was nowhere he could go really. The beast barred the path before him and the dark cavern where he had discovered it. However there was no salvation behind him either for there was only that outcropping of rock and a treacherous length of wall he would have to climb to escape the pit. Aragorn was certain that no matter how fast he managed to scale the distance to rim of the volcano, the great spider would be faster.

Will you not run? 

The creature asked of him as he came to the possibly insane conclusion that he would hold his ground and fight because whether it was here or a few feet away, the outcome would still be the same. In the end, he would have to face the spider. It made little difference where he chose to fight that battle. The beast was waiting for him to make the first move and instinctively, Aragorn knew that it was female for spiders often seemed their most fearsome when they were of the gender generally perceived by men to be the weakest. Aragorn supposed that it was Iluvatar’s sense of irony at work that saw to it this was not always so.

"I do not run," he spoke in Black Speech because Westron was as unknown to the beast as what manner of life he was.

The Eldar would run. 

"I am not the Eldar," Aragorn said firmly. "If you wish to feed, come at me and let us begin this dance. Do not waste my time if you are undecided regarding what you about. I have other places to be if you have not the stomach for a meal."

The spider was incapable of making any sound that could be considered a bellow of rage. It could speak but only in soft hoarse tones as if it was an effort to form words, unless it was spoken in the mind. However, Aragorn saw its bloated back abdomen heave in anger and the spindly legs seemed to thrum impatiently into movement. He saw its mandibles extending, preparing to snap at him when it reached his body. Aragorn held his ground for as long as he dared because on this narrow ledge there was no way to run unless he wished to be pursued and his best course was to attack the creature from the rear.


A lesser man would not have remained and Aragorn could not deny that when he saw the dark body and the razor sharp mandibles coming at him, he had thought of fleeing himself but he knew that he had to hold firm. The creature was irked by its audacity, no doubt accustomed to seeing its prey run at the first sight of it. Its anger made it careless and as it came at Aragorn in all its bestial horror, Aragorn broke into a run and surprised the creature by advancing instead of retreating. At the last minute, before those terrible jaws were upon him, Aragorn lunged forward, his body propelled by speed across the gravel covered ground and he scrambled beneath the dark body before the spider could guess what he was up to.

As the creature moved past him, Aragorn leapt to his feet, seeing the back of its torso and knowing that his chance was to strike before it could turned to face him again. With more courage than he thought himself capable of possessing, Aragorn jumped on top of the black body and somehow managed to remain on top as he drove Anduril deep into the dark flesh. The spider convulsed in pain, its think legs shaking in agony as the blade was thrust deep into its flesh. As the pain overtook it, the creature began to rock about furiously, attempting to throw him of its back.

The sound it produced in its agony was like the shriek of a wraith but sharper somehow, as if crying out to the world in its despair. Blood began to ooze out of the wound as Aragorn clutched the sword that somehow anchored him upon the spider’s back, giving him the support he needed to remain on top. However, the wound had only enraged the beast not kill it. Aragorn retracted Anduril, thrusting his hand deep into the fissure of ruptured flesh, trying not to recoil in disgust at what he was using as a hand hold as he slammed Anduril into another unbroken patch of skin.

The spider screeched in pain again, its spasms even more violent as it slammed its body against the wall at the side of the ledge, attempting to dislodge Aragorn from its body and inflicting more mortal wounds upon it. Aragorn refused to be thrown off, aware that death only awaited him if his feet touched the ground. The beast was far stronger and faster than he, Aragorn knew that he was outmatched if they faced each other, eye to compound eye. He stabbed Anduril through the spider’s back once again, becoming from frenzied with each wound delivered. The spider reacted in kind, its screams echoing through the pit with such shrill agony that Aragorn knew that if he survived this encounter, he would be faced with the hosts of Angband who would aware of his presence by the commotion.

Let me live and I will see you safely out of here! 

Aragorn heard the plea inside his mind but he could also sense the malice behind it. There was no way this creature would allow him to leave Angband alive if he were to let it live. Its rage at being bested was like a malignancy that would grow unless it knew vengeance.

"Somehow, I do not believe you!" Aragorn hissed, no longer afraid to let it hear his voice and prepared to strike his last blow because he could not linger any more. Even as he struggled to remain perched upon the creature’s back, he could see the orcs and the trolls moving across the pit, their eyes facing this ledge and the battle unfolding upon it.

With Anduril gleaming with blood upon its blade like black tar, Aragorn released his hold of the wound and used both hands to impale the spider through its skull. The beast uttered a final scream of pain as the sword tore through what passed for flesh and bone on such a creature before its entire body shook violently in a spasm of death. The legs that had been holding its body trembled briefly before going slack, dropping the heavy abdomen to the ground where it moved no more. Repulsed beyond reason, his stomach ready to heave, Aragorn remained frozen before he pulled out his sword and almost retched at sound it made upon release. His hands were covered in the creature’s blood and he did not know for how many seconds, he remained where he was to ensure it was dead.

He was panting when he finally climbed off the spider’s body and was further reassured when he saw those gleaming red eyes diminish like the dying embers of a fire in the morning. He took a deep breath and started walking away from the dead carcass when suddenly, he heard that sound again, that terrible drumming against the dirt of too many fingers. He turned around slowly and saw that it was not orcs that he had to worry about but the spawn of the demon he had just killed, spilling out of the cavern. He saw them coming at him, more than he could count, alerted by the cries of its dying kindred and knew that he was seeing his doom in a sea of black, round bodies.

He stood his ground, strangely numb as he understood he came to the conclusion that he was going to die and had yet to decide in which manner should he accept the inevitable, fighting or submissive as they tore him from limb to limb. Aragorn sucked in his breath, feeling his heart ache with sorrow at realizing that he would never see his beloved Undomiel again and praying that wherever they were, his wife and child would forgive him for failing them so utterly.

"Aragorn!" A voice called out to him from up high and Aragorn was torn out of his grief with the shock at realizing the voice was one he knew. Gazing up at the sky, he saw a mighty eagle circling above his head and preparing to make its descent. This was no eagle the likes of which Aragorn had ever seen because the size of it made the eagles he knew, Gwaihir and Landroval, seemed dwarfish in comparison.

"Jump Aragorn!" The voice instructed from high above and though Aragorn could not see him, the king of Gondor recognized it as belonging to the wizard Pallando who through some magic he had yet to understand, was here to save him.

His shock evaporated at the sight of the spiders coming towards him, preparing to deliver to him a terrible death as payment for murdering of one of their own. Aragorn saw the swarm coming towards him, their black legs moving fast as they closed the distance between them and decided that this was one occasion when he would be glad to run.

With Anduril firmly in his grip, Aragorn raced up the path once more, running faster than he had ever ran in his entire life. The spiders behind him were soon in pursuit as he neared the outcrop of rock he had found himself upon when he had first appeared in Angband. His heart was pounding with fear but it was also filled with hope and an unshakeable faith in the wizard who had crossed time to save his life. Letting out a guttural cry to brace himself for what had to be done, Aragorn leapt off the edge and placed himself in the hands of Iluvutar.

He did not fall far and when he landed, he felt himself against the soft feathers of the great eagle that was soaring into the air, gaining altitude and distancing them from the pits of Angband. Aragorn was thanking Iluvutar and all of the Ainur for this deliverance, so much so that for a moment, he forgot that Pallando was on the eagle’s back with him. Thorondor the greatest of the Eagles, said nothing as his mighty wings soared into the sky, leaving Angband behind him like a distant memory.

"Not a moment too soon I think," Pallando laughed as he patted Aragorn’s back and offered the king a friendly smile against his shock.

"How?" Aragorn managed to gasp. He was still too overcome by the fact that he had been rescued from certain death to be able to say anything more intelligible then that.

"Eol is not the only one who knows how to manipulate time," Pallando replied. "The spell was difficult but I learnt where he sent you and returned myself. I enlisted the aid of Thorondor, the greatest of all eagles to bring me here with all speed."

"A curious race this Edain," Thorondor spoke and his voice was like the wind given speech. "Your courage is boundless though your lack of sense begs concern. Confronting Ungoliant’s spawn is never wise."

"It was a risk I had to take," Aragorn answered mutely, astonished that he was speaking to one of the greatest heroes of the First Age.

"I think I will like these Edain when they are born, servant of Orome." The great bird replied as they soared over the lands of Middle earth towards Beleriand.

"Pallando," Aragorn stared at the wizard. "Can you bring us back?"

"Yes," Pallando nodded, "once Thorondor takes us to a place of safety, we will return home."

The king did not answer as he exhaled deeply while he rested his head against the soft feathers of Thorondor’s back to recover from his ordeal in Angband. Aragorn’s eyes gazed upon the expanse of lands that were no more in his time. Angband and Beleriand were long beneath the sea when he was born. From such lofty heights, the mark of Melkor and the pits of Angband did not appear so terrible. There was an awesome beauty about it that had to be respected, even if it was to be feared. Aragorn wished Arwen could share this experience with him, to see the world upon the back of this majestic creature but felt his heart ache at realizing how far away she was from him at this moment.

"Not home," Aragorn said softly, thinking of all he had to do when he returned to his own time and his jaw set in fury that radiated from him like a flame that both Pallando and Thorondor could feel. "It will not be home until Arwen and Imladris are freed..."


Chapter 10 - Starlight

Though it was called the Last Homely House East of the Sea, Imladris was in actual fact a city. It was not in the manner, which one would consider Minas Tirith, Edoras or even Pelargir a city, but it was a city nonetheless. Even though there were no bazaars for peddlers to hawk their wares, no lodgings for travelers and inns where drink could be imbibed, it was nevertheless a refuge for many in Middle earth and those that came were always greeted with open arms. Elrond had fostered Imladris as a place of learning, where wisdom was a skill to be acquired under the tutelage of those who had lived through great times and were not above imparting their experiences to others who craved understanding.

In its day, Imladris had been the jewel that Sauron was never able to conquer. Elrond’s power had protected his people from the outside world for centuries since leading them here from the ruins of Eregion following Sauron’s war. Before Arwen had grown up and gone into the world to see that there were other places of beauty, she had been quite content to believe that Imladris was the center of the universe and her father was undisputed master of it. In her youth, it was a place of dreams, where her mother would take her through the glens and the forested hills that surrounded Imladris and show her the beauty of that was her father’s realm.

No matter where her heart led her in the future, Arwen Evenstar would always be a daughter of Imladris; she would carry it in her soul as Elrond carried it in his heart even if he was in the Western Lands. Her devotion to her people did not change now that she was Queen of Gondor. Estel’s wife and queen she may be but she was still Elrond’s daughter and would always answer the call of her people in their time of need.

And at this moment, as she walked the darkened street of Imladris, seeking to learn what had become of her people, Arwen knew instinctively that they had never needed her more.

In truth, she was almost afraid of what she would find after Morfiniel led her away from Elrond’s former residence into the rest of Imladris. Earlier on, she had looked up the city and was struck by how haunted it appeared because it was so devoid of people. However it was nothing in comparison to how it felt when she was forced to wander the paths herself to discern what had become of them. The eerie silence that pursued them as they made their way through the familiar walks meandering through the buildings, sent shivers of fear down Arwen’s spine.

As Morfiniel guided her, Arwen also felt herself seething in anger at how frightened the lady was of Eol despite being compelled to help Arwen save their people. What had the dark elf done to engender such fear? Arwen was determined to find out. Arwen knew, that in the scheme of things as it stood, she was alone and vulnerable. Even if Estel was presently trying to reach her, he was still far away and she was no match for Eol’s magic or the Hunter’s strength. The Hunter had swept both Eowyn and Melia aside without difficulty; Arwen did not think that in her present condition she would give it much of challenge.

Walking past the homes with the windows radiating darkness instead of light, Arwen could feel most profoundly the evil that had staked its claim upon her father’s beloved city. They did not speak as Morfiniel led her to one of the homes Arwen knew once belonged to Glorifindel. Although the elven lord no longer remained in Imladris and had elected to journey west at her father’s side, she knew that some of his kinsmen had opted to remain behind.

"Come my lady," Morfiniel said as she descended the steps that led into the residence. Like all of elvish architecture, the home was ornate and appeared more like a great sculpture than it did an abode. Ornate banisters flanked them on either side as they slipped under the awning and came upon the main entrance. Doors were seldom locked in Imladris for no elf would be unworthy enough to steal.

They slipped into the empty hallways of the house, with Morfiniel leading Arwen, completely aware of where she was going. Like the rest of Imladris, the house was equally devoid of people and it did not take long for Morfiniel to find a lamp and give them some light in which to continue their visit. Her mother’s old friend led her up the stairs, away from the halls and parlors where Glorifindel had no doubt received guests when he was still in occupation here. Arwen’s curiosity as well as her growing anxiety at what was waiting for her at the end of this road began to mount.

Morfiniel led her upstairs, the dim light of the lamp lighting their way through the corridors of the upstairs chambers. Arwen could not understand where they were going until Morfiniel paused at one of the doors along the passage and gazed at the Evenstar once more. That fearful look had disappeared from her face but it was now replaced with an expression of sorrow and helplessness.

"In here Evenstar," Morfiniel said softly as she twisted the door handle and entered the room. "In here, you will find your answers."

Arwen swallowed thickly and followed her inside, not bothering to ask what it was she would find when it was obvious she would soon be seeing it for herself. The faint light of Morfiniel’s lamp illuminated the inside of the room. There was nothing before her that was shocking or surprising. It was someone’s private chambers but there was nothing in it that distinguished it from any room of the same kind. At first she was confused as to why Morfiniel had brought her here until she ventured further into the suite and saw the faint outline of a body lying on top of the mattress.

Arwen looked at Morfiniel long enough for the lady to see the question in her eyes before she was hurrying to the side of the bed. Lying upon the silken sheets was a young boy. In Gondorian years he might have been a teenager, no more than sixteen if she hazarded a guess. However, by elven standards he was hundred of years old but by her reckoning, a child nonetheless. His expression was peaceful as if he were in a deep slumber from which he could not escape. Arwen tried to awakening him but to no avail. The boy remained still and unresponsive to her efforts.


Behind her, Morfiniel had risked a little more light to the room by lighting one of the larger lamps within it. The room flooded with light and Arwen was able to see the boy’s features more clearly. For a moment, she was uncertain by what she was looking at until she reminded herself to stop thinking like the Queen of Gondor and start thinking like the daughter of Elrond Peredhil. Upon doing that, she saw quickly what Morfiniel needed him to see.

They say that the elves were born when the first glimmer of starlight shone upon the world following Varda’s kindling of the stars. The elves themselves believed that when this new light entered their eyes for the first time, some part of it remained and forever shone from their gazes. It was the starlight that made the elves what they were, though it was a truth that remained unspoken for they all knew it. It was this luminescence that made them all they were, the fairest and the wisest race that was known to all.

Arwen stared at the face before her and understood at last what Eol had been doing. Her heart clenched like a fist in her chest as the horror of it impacted upon her senses with such revulsion that there were soon tears in her eyes. She saw the boy and knew that his life span was shortening even as she stood here watching him. Immortality was being drained away because Eol was stealing their life force from their unconscious bodies.

He was stealing the starlight from their eyes.

"Oh Iluvutar!" She gasped out loud, tears spilling down her cheeks, as she understood that this boy was one of many. That all the remaining people of Imladris were lying in beds not unlike this one, their life force draining for them to give Eol the power to do his will in darkness throughout Middle earth. She swung around and faced Morfiniel, whose eyes were also glistening in tears.

"All of them?" She demanded. "They are all like this?"

Morfiniel nodded slowly, unable to keep herself from sobbing as she answered, "all of them my lady! He kept me alive to tend to his needs while he lingered in Imladris."

"How did he do this?" Arwen asked as Morfiniel slid to her knees, her body shaking as she wept in despair, probably for the first time since this ordeal had begun for she had no one to confide her wretched tale. "How was he allowed into Imladris to carry out such an obscenity upon our people?"

"He came to us as in the guise of a traveler and we took him in not realizing what he was," Morfiniel looked up and Arwen and explained. "He did not show his true colors until he entered your father’s house and saw your portrait. At first we thought nothing of it that he would stare at it for hours and ask all that we knew of you. You were married and in Gondor, we saw no harm in telling him. But the idea that you had married to a mortal, who would pass out of this world in a flicker of time and take you with him, seemed to enflame Eol. By the time we understood what he was capable of - it was too late. He had cast this enchantment over us and then brought forth the beast to aid him in your abduction."

"Really Arwen if you wanted to know all this, you might have just asked."

Morfiniel let out a strangled gasp as her eyes widened in terror as she looked over Arwen’s shoulder. Arwen did not need to see him to know that Eol was standing right behind her. She turned around and marched up to the dark elf who was standing at the door, having heard Morfiniel’s revelation.

"How could you?" Arwen demanded beyond fury. "You are an elf! How could you do something so terrible?" Her fists were held to her sides but she was still shaking in outrage at what he had done here.

"They serve a purpose," Eol said unperturbed, his hand moving to caress her cheek when Arwen flinched in revulsion, unwilling to let him touch her. He was worse than orcs for at least orcs had reason to behave as they did. Eol was one of them, an elf of Doriath, possibly kinsmen to her grandfather Celeborn. It was beyond her understanding that he could behave in such a manner.

"You’re killing them!" She cried out. "Stop it immediately. Release them!"

"Or what?" He retorted, bored by her demand for she had no power to move him unless he chose to be moved. "You cannot even stop yourself from becoming my whore, how do you propose to stop me?"

Arwen swallowed hard, she was her father’s daughter. They were her people and she could not allow this to happen. No matter what the consequences to herself, she could not let them all die like this. It was unconscionable and she could bear knowing that she had allowed it to happen when there was power in her to stop it, to save them. She drew in a deep breath, for she would need strength to make the sacrifice she was about to make. She prayed that Estel and Eldarion understood the choice she was about to make because she had no other alternative but to give Eol the one thing he wanted to save them all.

"By being your wife."

"My lady no!" Morfiniel cried out in horror.

"You would come to me?" Eol stared at her, feeling his own eagerness at the possibility of her acceptance of him overwhelming his ruthless and calculating demeanor. "Willingly?"

"Yes," Arwen nodded, tear wetting her cheeks as she gave her soul crushing decision. "I will come to you willing. I will remain at your side for as long as you desire, just release them and let them leave Imladris in safety."

He did not answer for a long while and Arwen thought those minutes were the longest of her life. She now knew what it felt like for a condemned man to take the walk from his cell to his execution, how interminably long those dwindling minutes of life could be. Inwardly, she prayed that Estel would come, that he would save her from this nightmare she had willing allowed herself to dream in order to save her people. She prayed very hard that he would save her because despite her willingness to sacrifice herself, she was still terrified of what that would entail.

"No I do not think so," Eol said finally.

"What?" Arwen exclaimed, unable to believe that he had refused her.

"If I were to release them, I have no doubt that they would bring about my ears the wrath of the entire elven world still remaining in Middle earth for what I have done to them and what I will do to you. They will remain as my protection against the hosts of elves and men that will no doubt attempt to retrieve you. I require the power they give me to maintain our happy little kingdom and as for you coming to me willingly, I will have a long time with you to ensure that happens anyway."

"You animal!" She swore and raised her hand to strike him.

Eol caught her hand and shoved her backwards a little. Arwen stumbled but did not fall but her heart was plunging into the depths with despair. She was weeping openly now, gripped with anger and frustration at her helplessness.

"Take Arwen to her room," Eol turned to Morfiniel. "And if you disobey me ever again lady, I will see to it that you die a good deal faster than that boy lying there. Do you understand me?"

Morfiniel nodded quickly as she helped the distraught Evenstar out of the room, desiring to escape the penetrating eyes of the monster before them. Secretly she prayed that the King of Gondor would soon deliver them from the nightmare they faced because the only thing worse then being forced to be Eol’s unwilling bride, was to helplessly be forced to watch it happen.

************

The company moved fast despite their injuries.

Once Elrohir’s arm was tended to as best that could be done with what was at hand with the time allotted to them, they mounted their horses and rode quickly towards House of Elrond. The sun had already begun to dip beneath the horizon, drawing with it the curtain of night. Of the Hunter they saw nothing even though their eyes searched for the beast behind every shadow they happened by on their journey towards the heart of Imladris. For the first time since this had all began, they began to see some measure of conclusion approaching the entire affair, though they were uncertain yet what the outcome would be. There was still the matter of what had happened to inhabitant of Imladris, a question that hung heavily upon their minds, particularly upon that of the twin brothers who were the rightful lords of this land.

Their thoughts were also fixed upon the fate of Aragorn and Pallando who were now in the distant past. Secretly, they were somewhat overwhelmed by the entire notion of being able to move through time like one steps into another room but in the face of Eol and the Hunter’s presence in Middle Earth, it was the only answer that explained everything. Still knowing the truth did not alleviate their worries for Aragorn who had been sent to a place that could not have been worse even if it were conceived in a nightmare.

None of the elves present had lived long enough to remember Angband though they were certain that Celeborn could tell them stories of those dark times when Melkor roamed the earth. They knew the beasts the dark lord had spawned, including the faithful servant that would plague Middle earth even after its master had been vanquished into the void. Now Aragorn was there amongst all these terrible creations and none of them could help him save Pallando. The lack of word so far from both inspired their worst fears and increased their determination to make Eol pay for what he had done by fulfilling Aragorn’s determination to retrieve Arwen and free Imladris.

In Aragorn’s absence, the company had been following Elladan’s lead because he was a Prince of Imladris and he more than any of them, were terribly aware of what the Hunter was capable of. The beast had pursued him to the banks of the Anduin and Elladan had more than a personal interest in destroying the creature once and for all. He had already proved himself worthy to lead the company after driving away the Hunter and his rage against the creature had provided him with a worthy edge to combat it. Elrohir remained cautious however, keeping his brother under close scrutiny to ensure that his need to destroy the Hunter did not overwhelm him when the time came for them to face the beast again.

Nothing hindered their journey as they rode through the forests within the valley where Imladris lay though they were certain at some point, Eol or the Hunter would appear to stop them, if not both. With the night sky overhead, it did not take the company very long to place Imladris within their sights. Even from a distance, they could see the pall of shadow that rested over Elrond’s city and it was not because of the twilight. There was darkness there deeper than night and as they approached it, steeled themselves for another confrontation with the dark elf who most likely cast it.

They rode up the silent paths of Mirkwood, noticing what Arwen had noticed upon first arriving within the former realm of Elrond Peredhil, that Imladris appeared devoid of life. Save for the few lights peeking through some windows, they were rightly forgiven for thinking that Imladris might have been deserted. Of course they knew this could not be but the truth was even more frightening to imagine. Elladan did not want to think that Eol could have murdered the entire population of his father’s city. With the Hunter as his servant, this was entirely possible and seeing how Orophin had been brutally cut down to protect his secret, highly likely. He gazed briefly at Elladan’s eyes as they rode to Elrond’s house, the largest structure in city, and saw that his brother held similar fears.

"Where is everyone?" Gimli asked uneasily as they dismounted their horses.

The dwarf remembered briefly the first time he had seen Imladris, when he had been summoned with the rest of the dwarf elders to the Council meeting that precipitated the Quest of the Ring. It had always been a magical place, even to the dwarves despite their sociological enmity towards the elves.

"I saw lights," Faramir remarked, his eyes searching their surroundings for more than what they had so far seen of Imlardis’ inhabitants. Inwardly, Faramir wished he had seen Imladris or Rivendell as it was better known, at the height of its day.

"But nothing stirs," Legolas declared, his brows furrowing as he listened closely for sounds of life and heard nothing conducive to a community this size. "Except there," his eyes shifted towards the House of Elrond.

"Yes," Elladan nodded in agreement, his hand a fist around the handle of his sword as he proceeded towards the steps of the house he had grown up in.

"Elladan, wait," Elrohir called out. "He is not a fool, he may hurt her if we rush in blindly."

"He knows we here already," Elladan declared, not listening as he continued to ascend the steps to the main doors, expecting the others to follow but caring little if they did not. While the Hunter had carried out the deed, it was Eol who was truly responsible for Orophin’s death and perhaps Aragorn’s as well. The Prince of Imladris would let nothing keep him from his vengeance.

"Elladan!" Elrohir barked again and this time there was enough force in his brother’s voice to give the elf pause to face his brother.

"Our sister is in there!" Elladan exclaimed.

"In the company of a sorcerer who has the power to send us all to Angband," Elrohir marched right up to Elladan on the steps of their father’s house and looked him in the eye. "You will hold back."

Elladan stiffened preparing to speak in turn when suddenly, something captured his attention that made the entire discussion a moot point. Elladan and Elrohir turned to the door at the same time as a figure emerged from it. Swords were unsheathed, daggers and axe produced for the battle to come, arrows slipped in place within drawn bows. Eol swept his gaze across the faces assembled before him, the curious gathering of elves, men and dwarf who had come to take his Evenstar away from him. As much as they wished to leap into attack as they had earlier, the outcome of their battle with Eol, not the Hunter made them pause.

"I suppose it was too much to expect that without the King of Gondor you would leave," Eol looked upon them, Anglachel was in his hand though whether he would use it when he had such formidable powers at his discretion was a quesiton that none of them could answer.

"We came for our sister, we will not leave without her," Elladan said sharply, his eyes fixed upon Eol in readiness to attack. His body felt like a coiled serpent, ready to spring. Only the distant voice of Elrohir’s words of caution held him back.

However, another sensation soon pressed up against his awareness, almost forgotten in his hatred for Eol and he turned his gaze away from the dark elf and saw Legolas and Haldir already reacting to what he was only now discovering.

The Hunter was here.

The horses had also sensed the presence and were panicked into fleeing. They scattered in all directions; their hooves impacting against the ground like a burst of thunder as they fled away from the beast that was made to inspire terror. He saw Legolas swept away, brushed aside like a child, his lithe body thrown aside in a split second as the company descended into chaos. Elladan saw Gimli crying out for his friend before a powerful arm knocked him off his feet again. Haldir had sense enough to get out of his way and as the beast approached, Elladan knew exactly where it was heading.

It was coming straight for him.

"I do believe my servant would like a word with you," Eol said smugly as he stood back and prepared to watch the carnage unfold.

"Call him off!" Elrohir reacted swiftly, crossing the space between himself and Eol in as much time as it was taking for the Hunter to reach his twin. His sword making the journey a split second ahead of him as he stabbed the blade at Eol

Anglachel was there to meet Elrohir’s sword and with proof that his reputation as a master swordsman was no idle boast, Eol blocked the younger elf’s attempt to have him at a disadvantage, returning a thrust in kind. Elrohir did not speak it but he knew he was too injured to do battle with the elf in a lengthy fight. His arm, though momentarily tended, still ached from its dislocation and he was certain Eol knew of his injury and was taking full advantage of it. All without even using his dark powers yet.

In no condition to aid his brother, Elladan saw the Hunter materialize in front of him, the cloak of the shadow world slipping away from it as it stood before Elladan, its yellow eyes gleaming with bald rage. The dark flesh that covered the Hunter was no longer unmarked but blistered with heat. Through its dark skin, Elladan could see raw exposed flesh. Wounds received not merely from it earlier battle with the company but also from being set alight by Elladan. What hair that was on the creature was burned away and it reeked of the unmistakable stench of burning meat. In its hand, it held its great sword and Elladan stared into its face and knew that this time, there would be no walking away.

One of them would not see the morning. He had a feeling that it was going to be him.

***********

Arwen hurried out of her room.

She was running through the empty hallways because she could sense the familiar presence of her brothers and prayed that if Elladan and Elrohir were here, then so would Estel. She had been praying for this moment since the beast and she did not mean the Hunter, had taken her away from Minas Tirith. Arwen could not wait in her room to find out what became of her siblings and her husband. She did not care what Eol did to her. She had to know. She moved through the silent halls of her father’s house and heard the commotion that was taking place as she drew nearer to the doors that led into the courtyard where visitors often rode to make their presence known to Elrond.

After what she had seen earlier that night, Arwen knew that killing Eol was the only way out of her predicament and saving the people of Imladris. She had almost resolved to do the deed herself and knew that she was quite capable of killing a creature that would behave so abominably. She had been sitting in her suite, contemplating how she might do this when suddenly she felt her brothers near. The feeling of them upon her consciousness was unmistakable and she knew it like no other.

It was the same when she was a child and they returned from one of their adventures abroad, how her heart would quicken at knowing they were home. Elladan would always console her at not being able to allow her to join them, explaining that she was to be a great lady of Imladris and had to fill her mind with knowledge by remaining at Elrond’s side. Elrohir on the other hand, would attempt to soothe her disappointment with little gifts from the places they had visited. The idea of Eol harming them both was more than she could stand, almost as much as she could not endure him hurting Aragorn.

"My lady," Morfiniel caught up with her at a juncture of corridor. "What is happening?"

Morfiniel had heard the noises of clanging sword and excited voices from her room in Elrond’s house and had immediately sought Arwen, her own heart filling with hope that salvation might have come for them at last.

"Elladan and Elrohir are here!" Arwen exclaimed, her voice was filled with hope and fear at the same time. Her words spoken left her breathless.

"Oh thank Eru," Morfiniel gushed with just as much happiness. Morfiniel had been at Celebrian’s side when all three of her children had been born and she knew that the twins had grown up to be fierce and formidable warriors. "Do you think they can defeat Eol?"

"I do not know," Arwen answered honestly, "but I will be at their side nonetheless, no matter how it ends."

"I will go with you," Morfiniel stated boldly. "I do not care what he does to me any longer. There must be an end to this."

"I am glad to have your company," Arwen said clutching her hand tight, glad to see Morfiniel’s spirit returning.

Morfiniel did not answer, her eyes were staring past Arwen. They were not filled with fear, merely bewilderment and Arwen followed her gaze and saw that Morfiniel was staring at a man, one that she did not recognize who had dark skin and wore clothes of russet and hide, not unlike those worn by some of the Corsairs. However, he did not look upon them with the expression of an enemy and certainly Arwen did not feel that he was a threat to them but she could sense a familiarity she could not place.

"Evenstar," he bowed his head slightly before her.

"Who are you?" She managed to ask noting Morfiniel’s hand clench around her own.

"My name is Pallando."

"Pallando!" Arwen exclaimed, recognising the name of the wizard who had aided Legolas and Melia in the mountains of Ered Mithrin. No wonder he seemed so familiar, he cast the same presence as Gandalf the White. "You are Istar!"

"Yes," he nodded. "I am glad to see you well. I was sent to find you at the request of your husband."

Arwen thought she might faint from happiness at knowing that Aragorn had finally come, even though she knew in her heart that he would do nothing else since her abduction but search relentlessly for her no matter what obstacles Eol might put in his way.

"Is he alive? Eol has done nothing to harm her?" She demanded, needing to hear it to be assured that Aragorn was alive and well.

"He is well," Pallando answered and saw why it was Aragorn was determined to find his queen. Their love for each other was as bright at the sun and just as powerful. One could not be in the presence of it and not be awed. How foolishly Eol had underestimated the bond between Arwen and Aragorn to think that mere separation was enough to sever it. "I am to bring you away from here to safety."

"No!" Arwen burst out, surprising Pallando by the vehemence of her refusal. Now that an Istar was here, he could do what she could not, he could break the spell. "You must help my people! They are here, trapped under some spell that has Eol draining them of their life!"

"Draining them?" Pallando stared at her for a moment, absorbing her words.

Arwen waited for him to speak but he did not for many seconds and but his silence over what he had been told gave Arwen hope. She realized that she had unlocked a mystery for him, a mystery that he had been pondering for some time. No doubt Pallando had been giving considerable though to how Eol had suddenly acquired the power to command the Hunter and hide Imladris from the rest of Middle earth.

"So, that is how he has done it," Pallando mused. "He is stealing the power of the elves for his own use."

"Can you help them wizard?" Morfiniel broke her silence and asked.

Pallando raised his eyes to both women, "show me where they are and we will do what we can."

************

Eol was toying with him.

As he glanced anxiously at Elladan facing the demon before him while Elrohir struggled against the mastery of Eol, he knew the dark elf was not even exerting the full measure of his skill. Eol had sized him up as an enemy and found him lacking because of injury and because Elrohir was better with daggers then he was with broadswords and at the moment, he was too injured to use either. Eol’s face showed his self-assurance and his triumph that this contest would soon be over. Elrohir blocked his relentless blow as best he could and felt some measure of comfort seeing the company hurrying to aid Elladan in his battle with the Hunter.


"Do you fight as weakly when you are well?" Eol taunted as he brought down Anglachel against Elrohir’s blade and the prince had barely enough time to keep it from slicing through his body.

"You would know otherwise if I were," Elrohir hissed and pushed back but it was not enough to even make Eol stumble.

"I suppose we will never know," Eol smiled, seeing the exhaustion in the prince's eyes and knew that he was no match for Eol’s own skills, if he ever was. Deciding not to prolong his prey’s inevitable demise, he swung Anglachel in a powerful arch and knew that Elrohir did not have strength or speed enough to keep the blade from cleaving his skull in two. He was in readiness to hear the splitting of bone and flesh when suddenly, his sword was halted abruptly by an obstruction that might as well have been a wall of mithril.

"I beg to differ," Aragorn Elessar responded coolly before shoving Eol back with the strength that Elrohir lacked.

Aragorn stood before Elrohir and spoke without looking at his brother in law, "withdraw. This is my battle."

Eol was shocked by Aragorn’s sudden appearance but he recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing in hatred as he faced the King of Gondor.

"You seemed to have survived Angband quite admirably," Eol remarked as the two men circled each other like wolves battling for supremacy of the pack. "I am impressed."

"The journey was interesting if nothing else," Aragorn replied, aware that they were skirting civility as a prelude to the battle that had been building between them from the instant that Eol had stolen Arwen away from him. "I thank you for the experience."

"I trust that I have the Istar to thank for your return?" Eol asked, cursing Pallando wherever he was and swearing an oath to destroy him once he was done with the King of Gondor once and for all.

"You might say that," Aragorn answered, seeing the hatred for the wizard surface briefly in the elf’s cold eyes. "We both owe him thanks it appears."

"Do you think you can defeat me?" Eol asked, moving the conversation to its inevitable climax. "I sent you to Angband, I could you send you to the bottom of the sea the next time."

"You could," Aragorn agreed with that, feeling no more fear because he knew his enemy and Eol’s arrogance made him as easily to manipulate as Aragorn’s deep compassion. "However, I thought we might settle this as warriors or do you intend to hide behind a wizard’s skirt when fighting all your battles?"

"You call me a coward?" Eol’s eyes blazed in anger. "I could kill you without the use of any magic."

"Is talk all that you are capable of?" Aragorn taunted. "Prove it."

"It would be my pleasure," Eol declared and held up Anglachel to show Aragorn that he had the right to the Evenstar, not because he desired her but because Eol was better than he was.

Both men continued to encircle each other thought they were barely aware of it. All they saw was each other and the woman they would do and had done everything to acquire.

Aragorn watched Eol closely, Anduril held in readiness to parry any sudden thrust the elf made because he watched briefly how Eol had fought Elrohir before his emergence and knew that he was too confident for his own good. Such traits when battling an opponent who knew how to handle a sword could be fatal and Aragorn was more than happy to teach Eol this lesson. Thus he waited for Eol to make the opening move, his own skills telling him that it was best to assume a defensive posture. There would be no impulsive attack for Aragorn in this duel; there would careful movements laced with deliberation.

Eol lunged forward first as Aragorn expected he would. The King of Gondor sidestepped the thrust easily, blocking it and forcing the blade away as Eol stumbled back again, surprised by the skill in the execution of this most basic maneuver. Aragorn waited once again as Eol reassessed how he should come at his opponent. Calculation etched in the elf’s face as he began to realize that Aragorn’s youth should not allow Eol to underestimate him. After all, this was the king that had defeated the armies of Melkor’s agent and reunited his people. The elves of Imladris spoke of him as if he were a great hero and by their reckoning, Eol supposed he was. However, that still did not give a man the right to something as magnificent as the Evenstar.

"Your reputation as a swordsman is not unjustified I see," Eol commented as they circled once more.

"You do talk too much." Aragorn drawled, not interested in engaging in any form of small talk with this elf, not after what he had done, not simply to Aragorn personally, but to so many others, including Arwen.

"Only because I want to be the last thing you hear in this life," Eol hissed before renewing his attack once again with a further series of thrusts.

Aragorn blocked these just as effectively refusing to attack just yet, he was holding back until the time was right. Keeping pace with Eol was work enough however, the elf was fast and Aragorn found that it required all his skill to keep Eol from striking blows that might give him the advantage. The clanging of swords followed every parry he made to deflect the blows and eventually, he was in a position to riposte with the same intensity.

Throughout the bout, Aragorn never took his eyes of Eol when their swords met with murderous intensity. Very soon the king was able to make some valuable observations about the elf’s skill. Aragorn noted that Eol preferred to swing wide and forcefully, using a good deal of physical strength each time he did so. No doubt, it was his preference to put the enemy down quickly instead of engaging prolonged combat.


In an experimental move to test how vulnerable Eol left himself in the face of such strategy, Aragorn ducked Eol’ latest swipe and dropped down low enough to kick the man’s knee out from under him. Eol hit the tiled floor awkwardly and Aragorn brought the blade down over his head. The elf looked up in time to see Anduril’s gleam in the moonlight, with barely enough time to roll away as the edge of its blade swooshed part the space his skull would have occupied. Rolling onto his knees, Eol blocked the swift blow that Aragorn delivered following his escape, holding the king’s blade pressed against his own as he threw a punch into Aragorn’s rib. Aragorn staggered backwards but did not lose grip of his weapon.

Eol came at him again, burning with rage that he had been placed in a defensive position for the first time since they had battled. As his aggression mounted, it had started to dawn upon Eol that Arwen’s husband might actually possess the skill to win this battle. Realising now that he could be very well fighting for his life had made Eol reconsider the notion of battling Aragorn in this manner. He was no longer as secure in his skills to defeat the king and he was not prepared to risk his life when the solution to his quandary was so simple. Yet his pride and belief in his elven superiority kept him resorting to the use of his power just yet, not until he was absolutely certain that he could not defeat this human.

This understanding forced Eol to take the offensive again and Aragorn settled back into the opposite, blocking all the thrusts that came in his direction, feeling a certain measure of satisfaction at the a tinge of desperation nestled in the midst this ferocious attack. He parried against them easily, never allowing his passion to take control of him because unlike Eol, Aragorn knew how to beat him. He would not have challenged Eol if Aragorn did not believe he could win.

And to win, Aragorn had only to wear him down .

*********

 

When Aragorn stepped out of the shadows to deliver Elrohir from certain death at Eol’s hand, they had all been stunned by the sudden appearance of the king whom they had almost believed they would never see again. Even the Hunter seemed a little surprised by the turn of events and while Elladan knew that he could not hope to defeat the beast in a single combat, he also knew that he was not alone. Taking advantage of the distraction, Elladan ran straight for the beast, his sudden advance taking it by surprise since it was accustomed to its prey fleeing not the opposite. Elladan however, had decided he was done doing any of those things.

"This is for Orophin!" He screamed as he plunged his sword into the creature’s stomach.

The Hunter barely flinched at being impaled by the sword and it reacted by its massive fist against Elladan’s back, forcing the prince to his knees and then his hands, his body crumpling in pain. The Hunter wasted no time attempting to remove the blade that had speared its innards, choosing instead to return the favor as it raised its own sword to split the prince in half as it had done to his companion at the Golden Wood. It never had the chance to deliver that fatal blow for another cutting pain course through his body and this time, it did not have the luxury of enduring the agony stoically. The beast threw its head back and groaned in pain as the axe buried itself deep within the flesh of its back. It clawed at the offending weapon, spinning around on its haunches and turning its eyes upon the dwarf who had flung it.

"You have harmed me one time to many with your blade Aule spawn!" The Hunter growled before snatching the axe’s handle and tore it from his back in one powerful movement. However, the swiftness of the extraction did not lessen the agony and it cried out as the steel slipped from its skin. If the company thought the pain might slow it down, they were wrong for no sooner than the bloody handle was in its grip, he flung the heavy weapon at Gimli.

Gimli saw his axe cutting a swathe through the air and immediately threw himself to the ground, ensuring that the blade passed over his head as it surged forward. He could feel the sweep of air above his head as it moved over him and embedded itself harmlessly into the ground. The Hunter was coming towards him when suddenly, Legolas skidded to the ground in front of Gimli and fired his bow directly at the beast. The arrow met its mark with deadly accuracy. The resounding scream of pain that came from the creature filled the Prince of Mirkwood with brief satisfaction as he stared at the shaft that was protruding from one of the Hunter’s eyes.

An injury like this would have killed a lesser creature but unfortunately, the Hunter was too large and powerful for that. The agony however enraged him and Legolas had enough time to turn on his heels and drag Gimli to the safety as the Hunter stumbled forward, trying to dislodge the arrow from his ruined eye. As Legolas and Gimli hurried out of its path, Haldir covered their retreat with his own bow, firing a rapid succession of arrows, each striking the beast’s massive body. The Hunter was like rabid bear being brought down by a party of hunters. It was enraged and in agony, swinging about its massive blade, hoping to strike at its enemies.

Haldir knew it would not be long before it attempted to slip into shadow again, using the advantage that its invisibility would give it to gain the edge it needed to attack his enemies. It was for this reason that Haldir was using every arrow he had at his disposal to ensure that even if the Hunter disappeared into the shadow realm, they would still be able to see it. As Haldir’s stores of arrows began to dwindle, Faramir was soon taking his place, shooting arrows at the beast with just as much determination. The Hunter was trying to fend off the arrows but the company was determined that it received no respite from the deadly barrage, not until it was dead.

In the meantime, Elrohir had reached his brother’s side. Elladan had been knocked unconscious by the Hunter’s massive fist and though he had struggled valiantly against the tide of black, he had eventually succumbed. Dragging his brother out of harm’s way, he glanced over his shoulder at the life and death struggle between Aragorn and Eol. He was relieved to see that the king was well though he wondered where Pallando was at this moment. They could certainly use his help battling the Hunter. However, there was little time to ponder the whereabouts of the wizard when he was needed to join the battle that Gimli, Legolas and Haldir were fighting so valiantly.

"Elladan," Elrohir shook his brother awake. "Elladan, you must awake!"

Elladan’s eyes fluttered a little as he struggled to surface from the limbo his mind was presently languishing. As much as Elrohir wanted to give him the time to recover, he could not and he shook Elladan again. "Brother, you must awake!"

Elladan opened his eyes at the desperation in that voice, his connection to his brother too strong to tolerate the anxiety in his voice. He opened his eyes slowly, allowing consciousness to flood back into his mind.

"I am awake," Elladan answered weakly and started to sit up.

"Rest a moment," Elrohir said gently even though he knew that they could not afford to waste the time. However, Elladan was his brother, he could do nothing else in the face of his brother’s condition.

"No," Elladan shook his head, still a little dazed, "I must be on my feet."

He gazed briefly at the battle raging around him and met his brother’s eyes, "we must finish this now."

As Elladan sought out his sword, Elrohir knew he was right. It was time to take back their home and their sister.

**************

Morfiniel and Arwen wasted no time in leading Pallando from the House of Elrond, taking an alternate route that would see them lead away from the heart of the battle raging between Eol and the company at this very moment. Arwen fought her desire to see Aragorn despite herself, knowing that she would be of more use to him and to her people by leading this wizard to the boy caught under Eol’s terrible spell. Pallando was Istar and according to Legolas, a powerful one. She had to hope that he was capable of reversing the enchantment that gave Eol his strength to commit so many dark deeds. She knew that if Mithrandir were here, she could be assured of his ability to circumvent Eol’s enchantments but Pallando was an unknown to her.

It did not take them long to reach the home of Glorifindel once again and when Pallando flooded the house with the light from his staff, she began to have greater hope that he was capable of freeing Imladris. She also realized that he was in the position to tell him what had happened to Aragorn and her friends after she had been stolen from Minas Tirith.

"Is Melia and Eowyn still alive?" Arwen asked as they hurried up the stairs. She remembered how the Hunter had hurt them and she had lived every day since with the terrible fear that they might have died at his hands.

"They live, Evenstar," Pallando answered quickly, understanding her need to know because she had been virtually cut off from everything she had known since Eol’s abduction. "Melia was hurt badly but I am told she recovers well and Eowyn keeps watch over your son."

Arwen closed her eyes in gratitude at the news, not merely at the good tidings of their welfare but also at the knowledge that Eldarion could have no better guardian then the Lady of Rohan.

"I am glad to hear that," Arwen said softly, her gratitude showing clearly in her face. "I worried so much for them and my son."

"You will see them soon enough," the wizard smiled comfortingly before his expression changed and he felt silent, sensing the enchantment that Eol was using drawing close. He brushed past Morfiniel and Arwen, leaving them behind as he strode towards the room where the boy lay, having no need of guidance any longer.

He entered the room and found his way to the bed where Eol’s victim lay against his bed, still very much trapped in his limbo state of neither death nor life. Pallando shuddered at the cold pressing up against his spine as he approached the boy, the potency of Eol’s magic radiated throughout the place like a beacon. The youth was caught in the same web as the rest of Imladris, Pallando discovered as looked upon the face before him. All that this boy would ever be, the long life that was promised him because of his elven heritage was being slowly drained away. Eol’s parasitic spell would kill them in a matter of years, when they should have lived to the end of the world. The horror of it was beyond Pallando’s ability to fathom.

When his misguided brother Alatar had foolishly thrown his lot in with Sauron to create a new form of life, at least there were some good intentions behind it. Alatar had believed that he was using the dark lord to create a superior form of life, one that would be immune to corruption and evil, possessing the beauty of the elves and the passion of men. What he created was nothing but an abomination of life almost as foul as the turning of elves into orcs by Melkor. However, what was done, was done in the spirit of the mission for which they sent to Middle earth, to fight evil.

This however, that Pallando found himself staring at, this was intentional.

There were no noble intentions behind it, merely self-serving purpose. It disgusted Pallando to no end. With the fire of outrage in his eyes, he placed his hands upon the boy’s cold cheek and felt the essence of the spell surrounding the youth. Pallando could feel the eyes of Arwen and Morfiniel burning into his back as they waited in anticipation for him to do something and he was not about to disappoint them. Eol had gone too far in this action, if his earlier ones had not been bad enough already. It was time to cut the strength beneath this sorcerer who would use innocents in this manner.


Holding his staff above his head as if he was about to use it to physically smash the spell into a thousand pieces, the orb perched upon it that that had been giving off its light became so brilliant that Arwen and Morfiniel had to turn away. He chanted words that neither Arwen nor Morfiniel could understand and his voice seemed to grow in tempo as the illumination pushed against the walls and escaped through the windows and corridors, seeming to fill the world. It occurred to Arwen that it seemed to be sneaking its way through the whole of Imladris, finding those who were also trapped under this heinous spell.

"Children of the Starlight, buried deep in the dark, find your way back to the stars!" The wizard exclaimed loudly and lowered his staff upon the boy.

It appeared suddenly as if there was secret barrier around the youth for as the staff lowered, something like lightning sparked over his. Tendrils of red energy cackled around him and the effect left the scent of burning in the air. Pallando’s staff forced its way against this strange power, until the spidery lattice began to waver, even though in its final gasp sparked and sputtered with desperation. Finally it burst forth in an earsplitting noise, before dissipating forever. The wizard staggered backwards in exhaustion as if all his strength had suddenly drained in countering Eol’s enchantment with Arwen and Morfiniel running to help him before he could fall.

"Is it done?" Arwen asked.


"Yes," Pallando nodded weakly. "It is done. They are free."

And across Imladris, though she could not see it, people began to awake.

************

Eol was in the midst of bringing down Anglachel against the Aragorn’s blade when suddenly, an expression of distress crossed the dark elf’s face. He appeared startled by something, though what that was Aragorn could not be certain. However, Eol’s reaction gave Aragorn the opening he needed to swing at the elf with a savage and powerful blow. Eol recovered his senses enough to keep himself from becoming mortally injured as he blocked the Anduril just in time. However, Aragorn’s strike was still enough to make him stumble, almost to the point of falling.

"A child’s mistake, Master Eol," Aragorn indulged himself as he noticed that Eol’s troubled expression did not leave his face even when the king moved in to strike again, maintaining the momentum of his aggressive attack.

"A child!" Eol glared at him furiously, a shadow of hatred crossed his face as he stared at Aragorn with eyes that could have burned if they had the power. "I’ll show you a mistake!"

He lowered his sword and stared at Aragorn with a smug expression on his face, anticipating his power to finish the king off once and for all. Aragorn braced himself for whatever dark magic Eol was intending to visit upon him and hoped he would be equal to the task of surviving it. However, seconds passed and nothing happened. He waited in anticipation of Eol’s attack, accepting that it was only a matter of time before the sorcerer resorted to using his powers, if he could not defeat Aragorn fairly. Eol had already proven how much without honor he was when he was willing to destroy Edoras just to rid himself of the company and Aragorn did not expect him to behave any better now.

However when nothing happened, Eol’s eyes widened as both he and Aragorn came to the same conclusion; his powers were gone.

"HUNTER!" Eol shouted to his servant as he felt for the first time fear. "I require you!"

Unfortunately, his beast had far greater things to concern itself with as the Hunter battled the savage onslaught of Elladan and the company. Arrow, sword and axe were assailing the beast mercilessly. Its body was covered with a multitude of wounds and gaining more with each passing second. It was doubtful that the beast had even heard its master’s call. Eol cried out again but his voice was lost in the sound of clanging steel, of the beast roaring in pain and the commotion of the assault it was fighting against its numerous enemies.

Aragorn did nothing but observe Eol’s mounting desperation as the elf found himself for the first time without the advantage of his dark powers or his creature. When it was clear that neither was coming to his aid and that he now he faced Aragorn on what truly equal ground, Aragorn finally gave himself leave to unleash the fury that had been restrained for so long. He crossed the narrow gap between Eol in his hand, Anduril having dropped to his side as he grabbed Eol by his tunic and yanked him forward. Eol barely had time to retaliate out as Aragorn slammed his head against the elf’s skull sending him reeling before Aragorn went after Eol with every ounce of strength he possessed.

"It seems that the mistake is yours ," Aragorn replied, his eyes hardening like flints being struck in the dark as approached Eol like a wolf about to pounce a helpless prey. "Are you as arrogant when it is your own skin you risk? Now that you face me without magic or the aid of some ancient beast?"

"I can still defeat you," Eol hissed angrily, bristling against Aragorn’s taunt as he saw the blood on his fingers from where Aragorn had struck him and split skin. However, his voice was devoid of its smug confidence. "Powers or not, I am still better than you."

"Do you talk to convince me or yourself?" Aragorn returned smoothly, a cruel smile upon his lips. "Your words are many but you prove nothing," Aragorn taunted, almost smiling.

Eol let out a low growl of anger at the jibe before lunging at Aragorn. However, the man was ready for him. This time, Aragorn would hold back nothing. When they had battled earlier, he had been mindful of Eol’s powers, aware that if the elf believed for one instant that he could lose their duel, he would resort to magic to tip the balance in his favor. However, it appeared that something had disrupted Eol’s magic and Aragorn was almost certain that something was the Istar Pallando. Whatever the cause, Aragorn intended to take full advantage of it while it lasted to finish Eol once and for all.

A fire soon ignited Aragorn’s blood and he was slamming blade after blade against Eol’s sword, forcing the elf to retreat against the full vent of his aggression, Aragorn could scarcely remember being as outraged and vengeful as he was at this instant. He was ruthless in his determination would be satisfied with nothing less then Eol’s utter defeat or death, whichever came first. Lashing out again, his anger gained momentum, until he was consumed with waves upon waves of self-righteous outrage that sharpened every blow he hurtled against Eol. So intent was he at defeating the enemy, he was hardly aware that he was forcing Eol into retreat across the steps of Elrond’s house or that the dark elf was having real difficulty staving off his forceful strikes.

The king of Gondor’s savage attack caught Eol by surprise because the man had been measured and controlled in his behavior until now. Eol tried desperately to exert himself in this battle but he found that he could not even draw breath as Aragorn maintained his devastating and brutal attack. Each time he fended off one powerful swing, the king would riposte and deliver another, wearing him down with each meeting of steel. Eol could not understand what had happened to his dark powers but he could feel its loss. He could no longer feel the people of Imladris and knew that the enchantment that bound them to him was broken. He was drained of power to summon any spell and what he did have was not enough in the wake of his exertions would take time to replenish.

Unfortunately, time was something he did not have a great deal of.

The king’s attack was so savage that Eol found that his strength was waning under the relentless and skillful assault. Each impact of blade against blade was bringing to home just how close to the end Eol was nearing. In his rage, his opponent had become very fast and very strong. Aragorn’s anger was making him more agile then clumsy. Eol could feel his grip upon Anglachel weaken with each resounding impact of Anduril against it. In desperation, he was forced to sweep Aragorn off his feet just to get a brief respite.

Aragorn fell down on his rear as Eol lunged his sword at Aragorn to deliver what would have been a fatal wound through the chest if Aragorn was not fast enough to roll onto his knees and defend himself against the tactic. He shoved Eol back in sheer strength alone and spoke quickly as Eol tried to regain his footing while Aragorn got to his feet again and was ready to counter the elf’s next maneuver.

"Concede and I will not take your head, though you deserve it for you have done." Aragorn offered suddenly.

"I do not require your mercy!" Eol shouted and lunged again but Aragorn was ready for him and protected himself adequately.

"I do not offer your mercy," Aragorn replied as both men paused briefly in their battle. "Your fate is not mine to decide. If you yield, I will turn you over to the elves of Imladris so that they can decide what is adequate punishment for what you have done here. I am only wish the safe return of my queen."

"Never!" Eol hissed, unable to stomach the Evenstar in the hands of this mortal.

Aragorn shook his head, realizing that there was no reasoning with Eol. "I did not wish it to come to this but if you will not yield then you will be defeated."

"If I am defeated, so be it," Eol glared at Aragorn malevolently, determined to have one final victory before this battle reached its conclusion. "However, know that your queen offered herself to me willingly. She was willing to pledge herself to me and whatever I desired of her. Think upon that when you make love to her and wonder if it is not me, that she craves."

Aragorn met the elf’s eyes and uttered a single word before he swung Anduril in a final stroke that would decide Eol’s fate once and for all.

"Die."

The blade sliced through the air in a clean stroke.

Eol’s hands dropped to his sides, hanging limply though Anglachel still remained in his grip. The elf’s face drained of color and his eyes fell abruptly vacant. His look of surprise soon descended into a blank stare. However, Aragorn was certain his eyes were capable of seeing nothing. The former Ranger slowly lowered this sword before taking a deliberate step away from Eol as the first drops of blood began to seep through the cracks of ruined skin created by Aragorn’s blade. The droops soon began to flow freely as the body stumbled forward with Eol’s head coming away from his neck and landing on polished stone of the steps.

Aragorn stared dispassionately at the elf’s collapsed body, cleaning his sword of Eol’s blood as if he did not wish the evil of its master to taint the steel of Anduril. A long breath escaped the king of Gondor as he saw the death of the enemy that had caused so much destruction in Middle earth since his arrival. Not merely to him personally but to Arwen and the friends who fought bravely at his side. And finally, he thought of all those dead bodies on the field of Edoras and the men he had been forced to lead against Uruk Hai in the same battle and thought that death was the least that Eol deserved but for the Aragorn’s purposes, it would do.

It would do very nicely.

*************

 

When Eol’s life ended with the stroke of a king’s blade, the Hunter knew immediately that his master had fallen. The beast who was suffering more peril then it had ever experienced in its entire existence, turned a single, unscathed eye towards the scene unfolding on top of the steps. It saw the king standing over its master’s body, the Gondorian’s sword glistening with blood as Eol’s decapitated head came to rest on the steps. A white-hot rage filled Melkor’s creation as it realized that once again, it was a servant without a master. Bellowing its outrage for all to hear, its swung its blade at the elf named Elladan, forcing him and all out of his path as he forced his way through their weapons to reach the his dead master and avenge itself upon the one who had stolen Eol’s life.

"Aragorn!" Legolas shouted as he saw the beast heading straight for the king. Legolas had no more arrows to shoot at the creature’s massive bulk as moved away from them and could do nothing to halt is advance towards Aragorn.


Hearing Legolas cry of warning, Aragorn looked up at the approaching creature and immediately retrieved Anglachel from Eol’s dead fingers to meet the Hunter when it arrived.

"You will join him in death!" The Hunter roared as he brought down his sword upon Aragorn who raised both swords to block the powerful blow. He was driven to his knees as the force behind the Hunter’s sword but both Anduril and Anglachel withstood. When the beast raised his sword to strike again, Aragorn moved swiftly and plunged both swords deep into its belly.

The Hunter cried out in agony as behind him, the rest of the company moved with their swords and daggers drawn and enclosed the beast in a ring of steel. All at once, they rushed the creature in the throes of its pain, sword, dagger and axe met flesh in an orchestra of carnage. Haldir and Elladan struck the deepest wounds, their blades fired with the desire for revenge. Gimli swung his axe high and the mighty blade cracked upon the back of the Hunter’s skull. The Hunter screamed in agony once more, the night air become colder with its pain. Blood splattered across some of them as the steel tore through flesh and suddenly, the blade fell from its fingers. The mighty sword landed on the ground with a resonating thud. The Hunter dropped to its knees, a look of understanding on its face as the life bled out of it in a widening pool of dark blood.

Staring at Elladan with eyes filled with malice, its blistered lips cracked a final sneer before it spoke, "you have won nothing and become what you’ve killed."


With those parting words, the Hunter fell face forward against the ground and died.

There was only silence after the beast had fallen. The Hunter’s words taunted them with its truth but it was a truth they could endure. For the elves, it was vindication for the nightmare their ancestors suffered at the hands of this beast and the mutilating branch of orcs that was created by their torture. For Haldir and Elladan it was more personal but as always in the case of vengeance, their victory a was hollow one. The Hunter’s death did not bring back Orophin. Their friend and their brother were still dead. Elrohir could see this discovery dawning upon his twin and knew that he would be there for Elladan in the days to come. After all, grief and guilt was nowhere as easy to salve as vengeance. No doubt, Haldir would endure his own sorrows but he would do so as he did everything in his long life, alone and without the scrutiny of others.

"Aragorn," Faramir broke the silence first, walking towards the king and greeting him with a friendly embrace upon reaching him. "It is good to see you. We had feared the worst."

"Eol said that he sent you to Angband," Legolas asked as he too approached his old friend. "Is that true?"

Aragorn thought of that terrible place and knew that the memory of it would be burned into his mind for all time. He thought of the great spiders and of the Iron Prison and knew that he was lucky to be alive and surrounded by his friends again. The fear that had gripped him in Angband would stay with Aragorn far longer than he would like to admit but he as alive and he was grateful for that.

"It is true," Aragorn nodded. "If it were not for Pallando, I would have perished there in the belly of a Great Spider."

Legolas did not ask him to elaborate because his words were clear enough and wondered if Aragorn would ever be ready to speak of his experiences in Angband. In any case, Legolas would not broach the subject until this crisis was over and they had some time to draw their breath.

"Where is the wizard?" Gimli asked. The abrupt end of their enemies had finally allowed time enough for the dwarf to note the absence of the Istar who had been so instrumental in their quest to find Arwen.

"Right here," Pallando announced himself as he stepped out of the shadows behind them, obviously arriving from somewhere else other than Elrond’s house. The crystal perched on his staff illuminated the darkness about him and revealed to all the company that he was not alone.

For Aragorn, all the darkness of Angband would not have kept him from seeing Arwen next to Pallando.

His feet was carrying him towards her before he even knew that he was running. Through the glimmer of Pallando’s staff, she radiated starlight that filled his world with the power of her happy smile when her eyes touched his. Looking upon Arwen always had the power to melt his heart in ways he could not describe and upon seeing her, knew that every thing he had fought and suffered was worth the reward of being with his beloved Undomiel again. They met each other in a middle of the courtyard, with Aragorn sweeping her off her feet as his arms encircled her waist and captured her lips with a kiss of passion.

There was no one else present for either of them when Aragorn held Arwen against him, feeling her heart pounding against his own, beating in tandem as it was meant to be. He breathed her in like air, feeling the emotions swelling his soul as the scent of her hair in his lungs and the feel of her lips against his, nourished him. Being king of Gondor could never ever compare to being the beloved of the Evenstar. In this at least, he understood why Eol had been so desperate to possess her, who would not? Aragorn considered it a privilege he was grateful for every day of his life, that she had chosen him to love.


No man could have been more fortunate.

"Oh Estel," Arwen whispered in his ear when they broke their kiss and held each other in a tight embrace that neither would be able to let go for a good while, "I knew you would come for me. In my heart I never doubted it."

"I would rather die before I let him hurt you," Aragorn returned, his voice choked with emotion as his soul suffused with gratitude at having her in his arms again. "Or leave you to such a terrible fate."

"He only hurt me by keeping from you and Eldarion," Arwen replied, pulling back far enough so that she could meet his eyes and see that she meant it with all her heart.

"He will never hurt you again," Aragorn answered with just enough edge to his voice for Arwen to know what that meant. She did not have to be told to know that Eol no longer breathed. "I promise you that," he replied firmly.

"The only promise I wish from you my husband, is that you will take me home to our son," Arwen whispered, her eyes glistening with happiness.

"I would be glad to oblige, wife," Aragorn spoke softly before becoming lost again in her sapphire colored eyes as he drew Arwen to him again.

Tasting her lips in another kiss of heart stopping passion, the King of Gondor was at last filled with content knowing that everything in his world was right again now that he was reunited with his beloved wife, his Undomiel.

His Evenstar. 

 

Authors Note:

Thanks to Tammy for her help with polishing some aspects of this segment.


Chapter 11 - Homeward Bound

Despite his death, it was not easy to undo the damage that Eol had wrought in Imladris. Although Pallando had removed the spell that had trapped the elves for so many months while Eol ruled in Elrond’s city, the effects of it upon them were marked. Many were weakened beyond their ability to recover completely despite their remarkable metabolism. Eol had tapped into the core of what made the Eldar what they were. He had tapped into it and drained it for his own uses and that was not easily replaced, even if they were free of him. Some emerged from their slumber appearing older, aging in months what it should have taken centuries to achieve. They still were in possession of their immortality but a little of their youth had been stolen.

Many were so weakened after the spell had been removed that the company was forced to act as healers to the remnants of the city’s inhabitants, even though Faramir, Elladan and Elrohir needed healers themselves. It was with great relief when the Riders of the Mark appeared at the Ford of Bruinien two days after Aragorn and the company had crossed the river, as Eomer had promised. Forty riders entered the elven city and it was the first time in an age that an army of any kind had been allowed to enter Imladris. Fortunately, Aragorn had need of the Rohirrim to aid him in nursing back to health the elves who were harmed by Eol’s enchantments, not to mention his friends who had suffered greatly whilst battling both Eol and the Hunter.

The men of the Mark were skilled warriors but the battles they faced in the protection of Rohan often required their tending to injuries when the skills of a healer were unavailable to them. To this end, they were able to contribute greatly to the efforts of aiding the recovery of the elven population. It took many days for the weakened elves to regain their strength, even with Aragorn’s superior skills as a healer but he could not deny that he always welcomed the chance to preserve life instead of taking it away. The rescue of Arwen had left his hands and that of his friends bloodied despite the justness of their cause.

The elves of Imladris however, were grateful for his part in restoring their freedom from under the yoke of Eol’s terrible spell. They were even happier to have both Elladan and Elrohir returning to their father’s city and were equally pleased that despite the circumstances of her return, the Evenstar had come home. However, their gratitude was also laced with anger at the elf who had done this to them. Aragorn knew that many were disappointed that Eol had met his death at Aragorn’s hands even though there had been no way to avoid that outcome. They wanted justice and vengeance for the years Eol had stolen from them and Eol had cheated them out of it by dying.

Of the words that Eol had taunted Aragorn with at Arwen coming to him willingly, Aragorn thought little. Arwen had confessed to him how she had offered herself to Eol to save Imladris and though he would never tolerate her being placed in such a position, he understood why she did it and spoke no more of it or gave it further thought. She loved him and he had more faith in that then all the cruel words that anyone could bombard him with. She had made a choice for mortality instead of eternal life and in the face of that sacrifice, it was beyond Aragorn to believe that anything that Eol said was the truth.

Eol’s body and that of his servant was removed beyond the borders of Imladris where it was put under the fire until nothing remained but a pile of ashes. Aragorn had presided over the grisly task for he would ask no one to carry out such dark work in his place; he did not care whether or not he was the king of Gondor or a Ranger of North. With Haldir, Legolas and Gimli, they watched as the fire turned the bodies into ash without speaking a word until the task was done. There was some feeling of closure as the enemy was consumed in its fiery end but none of them felt satisfaction. Both beast and master had left scars that only time would heal. Aragorn noted Haldir’s expression as the Hunter’s body burned and saw for the first time, real tears in the march warden’s eyes.

He realized then that what Haldir denied himself, until Orophin’s death was avenged, was mourning.

************

The days hurtled by quickly and soon Eol’s stain upon Imladris began to fade. The Eldar had always healed faster then either men or dwarf and were soon on their feet again faster than Aragorn had given them credit. Very soon, Elrond’s realm began to bloom with life again. The Rohirrim, suitably convinced that Aragorn was no longer in danger and that their services in the elven city was no longer needed, took their leave of the king with good tidings for Eomer from Aragorn and a promise to visit Edoras when the company finally departed for Minas Tirith. Aragorn knew that Arwen was eager to return home to their son and he could not deny feeling the similar pull towards home and Eldarion.

While he had no doubt that Eowyn and his ministers were capable of safe guarding his kingdom during his absence, Aragorn knew he could not be away from Gondor for much longer. Unfortunately for him, the days when he could remain at large from the White City were no more. As a king, he needed to remain in his kingdom though in this affair, not even Gondor’s welfare could have prevented him from participating in the rescue of his queen. However, now that the task was done, he needed to return home swiftly for it would still take a good amount of time to complete the journey.

For the moment however, such thoughts remained far from Aragorn’s mind and he and Arwen wandered the paths of Imladris in the height of twilight. The moon cast its pale light upon them as they wandered hand in hand through the walks they had taken when they had first pledged themselves to each other. As they basked in the resplendent beauty of Imladris, surrounded by cascading waters of the mountains that poured into the valley surrounding them, it was easy to forget so much time had passed. The lights of the city now twinkling about them and the sweet fragrance of its wood filled the air as the light bounced off breeze borne petals of flowers that swirled about them. Surrounded by such beauty, Aragorn was reminded of how much like a dream Imladris still felt to him.

"It seems so long ago that I first saw you here and thought you were Luthien," Aragorn replied as they walked within the very woods where he had first laid his eyes upon Arwen. She had walked into his life unexpectedly, surrounded by the white stems of birches, and given him a purpose that was far greater than simply being Isildur’s heir.

"Yes," Arwen smiled as she rested her head against his shoulder, her hand in secure in his as they revisited the place she had first encountered Aragorn. She smiled remembering how he had mistaken her for Luthien, never realizing how closely her life would come to resemble the tale of those ancient lovers by her meeting with the young Dunedain. "You were singing I seem to recall."

"If it were not for Eldarion awaiting us in Minas Tirith, I would rather remain here," Aragorn confessed. "Life seemed a good deal less complicated when this was home to both of us."

"It was but how else are we to appreciate the good moments if we are not sometimes forced to endure the bad?" She met his gaze and he once again could not fault her wisdom.

He had been twenty-four years old when he met her and she had seen three millennia by then. His mother Gilraen told him that he was aiming too high by loving the daughter of Elrond but she had been in his blood from the first moment and he knew that he would love her until the day he died. Being here with her again, in the place where he had first beheld her, made Aragorn realize how fortunate he was that she loved him and that his life without her, would have been an empty receptacle.

"You were always wiser than I," he pointed out.

"I am my father’s daughter," she reminded.

"I miss him," Aragorn looked up at the stars and found himself confessing.

When his father Arathorn had died at the age of sixty, savagely cut short for a man whose life span should have been two hundred, Aragorn and his mother had been brought to Imladris to live under the protection of Elrond. Aragorn barely remembered Arathorn beyond what his mother had imparted to him but in the years to come, Aragorn would come to see Elrond as the father he was denied knowing. Even now, he missed the elven lord’s wise council and gentle humor.

"So do I," Arwen agreed and raised her head to Aragorn so that he could kiss her gently. "I think he would have liked to have seen our son."

"I think he can," Aragorn said with a little smile. "Elrond seemed to have far keener sight then was normally thought possible for any being. I have no doubt wherever he is, he still watches over us."

Arwen was about to respond when she felt a familiar presence approaching. Aragorn sensed the intrusion as well but his ability to sense the approach had more to do with his skills as a Ranger than any sense of heightened awareness possessed by elves. No sooner than both of them had noticed this arrival, Elladan and Elrohir emerged through the trees. The twin brothers had been close companions to Aragorn all his life, they had been present when his father had died and he considered them family. He was not surprised that they would know about this place since they had watched the budding love between himself and Arwen since the very first.

"We are sorry to intrude upon you sister, Estel," Elrohir apologized once they faced each other. "However, we have a matter of importance to discuss with you."

Arwen had a good sense of what it was that Elrohir and Elladan had come to say. Since the crisis with Eol had passed and Aragorn had opportunity to appraise his wife of what had happened while she was a prisoner of the dark elf, Arwen had learnt about Elladan’s guilt in regards to Orophin. Elladan had always suffered things too deeply while Elrohir tended to deal with such things by confronting it, though not always with the best results. They were as different as night and day and she knew them well, that is why she knew that what happened to Imladris would have effected Elladan just as deeply as being forced to watch helplessly as Orophin was slaughtered by Eol’s beast.

"We are family Elrohir," Aragorn said warmly. "There is no intrusion. What is it you wish to discuss?"

Elrohir glanced at Elladan briefly before he answered; "we will not be leaving Imladris when you depart."

"You mean to remain here a little longer?" Aragorn ventured a guess, unsurprised by the revelation. After all, Imladris was their father’s realm; it was only natural that they should wish to remain a little longer to ensure things here had returned to normal.

"We mean to remain here permanently," Elladan replied. "We will not be returning to Eden Ardhon."

"Why?" Arwen exclaimed. "I thought you wanted to see new lands."

"We do," Elrohir replied, "and we still can, but we will do it from Imladris."

"I don’t understand," Aragorn’s brow furrowed a little as he stared at the identical twins, waiting for either one to offer an explanation. In truth, he had no right to expect any such thing of them but they were his kinsmen and he was concerned.

"Eol should not have been able to take control as he had," Elladan explained because it was mostly at his instigation that he and Elrohir were remaining. "If we had been here, perhaps it could have been avoided and all the destruction wrought by this elf may never have been."

"Elladan, you do not know that," Arwen stared at her brother, placing a hand upon his cheek in affection. "Eol was powerful indeed and he was offered the hospitality that our father taught all our people to extend to those seeking refuge in Imladris. No one could have known what darkness lay within him."

"I have seen darkness Arwen," Elladan looked at his younger sister lovingly, aware that her words were said to soothe his guilt and she would never know how much it meant to him to hear her say that but he could not be absolved so easily. "If either myself or Elrohir had been here, we might have seen through his guise but we were not and it is to our shame that we were absent when Imladris needed us most. Our father is gone but we are his sons and we will remain in Imladris for as long as it continues survives in Middle earth."

"Have you told Legolas?" Aragorn asked, knowing that his friend would miss the twins a great deal.

"Yes," Elrohir nodded. "He understood our decision though he was sad to see our loss from Eden Ardhon."

"Are you certain of this Elladan?" Arwen stared at her brother in concern. "You have worked so hard to build something in Legolas’ realm."

"We have," Elladan replied, a little smile crossed his face that was filled with the hope of possibility. "However, we can also labor here in Imladris. Those who remain here still, are not ready for the Undying Lands and neither are we. Thus while Imladris is still peopled, we will remain its lords, ruling together as father wished until we are ready to join him across the sea."

Arwen hugged Elladan and Elrohir in turn, glad that they had made a choice for their own destiny, though she would miss their frequent trips to Gondor to visit her. However, she understood their decision and was glad that they were remaining in Imladris to protect their people.

"I think father would be very proud," she answered and saw by the glimmer in both their eyes, often a reflection of contrasting views, that they were for once agreed.

And wherever he was, Arwen knew that Elrond approved as well. 

*************

It had been some years since Haldir had chanced to visit Imladris and now that the things had resumed to some measure of normalcy, he took in the sights of the city, admiring its views and its breathtaking woods. It was very different to the Golden Wood and the forest of Eryn Lasgalen, with its glorious waterfalls cascading from the mountains that framed Imladris. The city had been built on the side of a slope that overlooked the valley and from the many walkway and balconies, one could be treated to scenic views of the Valley of Imladris. Seeing the beauty of Elrond’s city made Haldir pine for Lorien and the woods he was so familiar with. It felt as if he had been away for years even though the correct estimation of time was most likely weeks and his thoughts lingered constantly on making the journey home.

During his stay in Imladris however, he had taken care to keep out of Aragorn’s and Legolas’ way. Despite knowing that the King of Gondor would keep his confidence regarding his feelings towards Melia, Haldir could not help being uncomfortable around anyone who knew his innermost emotions. Even though his relationship with Rumil and Orophin had been close as only brothers could be, he was still fiercely private. Thus while he aided as best he could with the recovery of Imladris’ inhabitants, he also kept to himself when he was not needed, content to wander the paths of the city until it was time to retire for the evening.

However, he supposed even he could not hide away for long and when Legolas finally sought him out, Haldir viewed his arrival with some measure of resignation, aware that this was one meeting he would have to endure sooner or later. Since they would soon be going their separate ways, this was a good time as any. Legolas found Haldir as he stood upon one of the bridges in the walks near Elrond’s House gazing at the distant horizon, mapping out inwardly, the route he would have to take to return to Lorien.

Haldir made no move to acknowledge the prince when Legolas stood next to him, staring into the same encroaching twilight in the distance. For a moment, neither spoke even though both were very aware of each other. Haldir, who would never let it be said that he was afraid of anything, saw no reason why he could not speak first even though the reason for Legolas’ presence was unknown to him yet. However, he would test the waters first if the Prince would not.

"Orophin never saw any of this," Haldir sighed as he swept his gaze across the expanse of the valley before them. "All his life he had remained in the Golden Wood as was expected of any March warden. As he was the youngest, it was usually Rumil or I that left the wood with our Lady or Lord and Orophin was always forced to remain behind. I remember how he said he wanted to see Imladris once before we left these shores."

"You should come to Eden Ardhon," Legolas said quietly after Haldir fell silent once more. "Come and see what he felt so worth leaving you and your brother behind."

Haldir’s shoulders sagged a little before he answered, "perhaps I will but not soon. The pain is still too fresh."

"The pain of Orophin’s death or your feelings for Melia?" Legolas asked.

Haldir turned to him in surprise and for an instant, his feelings were laid bare for Legolas to see and the Prince of Mirkwood’s suspicion was confirmed before the tough mask of indifference fell upon Haldir’s expression again.

"I did not think the Elfstone would be so untrustworthy," Haldir replied, his jaw tensing in anger.

Legolas blinked and held his shock at learning that Aragorn was privy to this because the king was the soul of discretion and Legolas doubted that Haldir would have confided in him willingly. However, Aragorn had come to learn the truth mattered little, it only mattered that Legolas knew. 

"I did not hear anything from Aragorn," Legolas replied, exonerating his friend quickly. "You were the source of my understanding."

Haldir seemed disturbed by this and he turned his eyes away from Legolas, unable to face him, "and you wish what now, to gloat over your victory or your courage over me? That you could make the choice that I could not?"

"It is not a choice I made lightly Haldir," Legolas said in understanding because he knew all too well what conflicts Haldir faced by having these feelings for a mortal, even if that mortal was his Melia. "I live with this terrible weight in my heart every day, knowing that she will soon be gone. It can break the spirit knowing that what we have in this life, is all/[i] that we will ever have. When she dies, I cannot even choose to die with her because our souls do not go to the same place. Do I think you less because you would spare yourself that pain? I cannot when there are moments when I think that it might have been simpler to simply walk away when there was time and escape the tragedy that waits for me."

"But you [i]still chose her," Haldir met his gaze. "You had the courage to make that choice. We spent but a few hours together and I know that what I feel for her is mere shadow for I was not foolish enough to bind myself to her as you did. In truth, it is only you that she has eyes for but I cannot help be a little ashamed that I could not choose her over the fear of pain."

And there it was, the heart of the matter which plagued him, not that he loved Melia but his inability to brave pain for love. He would always care for her deeply but they were never meant to be and he knew that. Even when she had passed on from this world, he would look upon her as a testament of what might have been and what he been unable to do. Haldir both admired Legolas for his courage but he also pitied him.

"My father would say you are being sensible," Legolas remarked. "I know that it was against my will that my heart was given to her and though I regret nothing, I will regret it deeply when she passes on. I think on that day, I may not be as certain as I am now of whether I made the right choice."

"It is better to feel something Prince of Mirkwood, then to feel nothing at all," Haldir answered, seeing in Legolas eyes that these were fears he told no one.

"Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps you could not make the choice because you do not feel for her as deeply as you think you do?" Legolas stared at him.

"I know my feelings," Haldir pointed out.

"I think you question the ability to make the choice for love rather than the love itself. You seemed to me preoccupied by what might have been if you had chosen her. Are you certain that it is the question that worries you more than the lady?"

Haldir did not answer because there was a grain of truth in Legolas’ words. True, Melia was engaging but no more engaging than any female he encountered in the past. His affection for her had arisen from the fact that she had chosen Legolas not him. Perhaps it was his pride that made him want her more than he should but in wanting her he had been faced with the tragedy of elven and human love and it was his inability to take a leap of faith for love that bothered him most.

"I cannot say," Haldir replied with some measure of surprise at how a straightforward question could not be so difficult.

"I think in time you will be able to," Legolas answered with a smile because he was confident that he had helped Haldir in some small way. "When you do, I hope you will come visit us in Eden Ardhon and see what Orophin helped to create."


Haldir looked at him, a newfound respect growing in his eyes for the prince as well as an understanding. "You know," Haldir said with his usual self assured smirk creeping into his face, "I always thought you to be a self righteous, meddling, sentimental aristocrat who was too good for Melia."


Legolas absorbed this with a slight nod and continued with Haldir’s commentary almost as if he were finishing the march warden’s sentence, "and I thought you were an elitist, philandering, arrogant snob who was also too good for Melia."

"Well then," Haldir turned back to the landscape bearing a wide grin that he felt most deeply, "it accounts for her taste then."

***********

A number of days following the departure of the Rohirrim, the company left Imladris to begin the journey home. However, they left the elven city in good stead with Elladan and Elrohir taking their father’s place in its protection and rule. The twins seemed much happier following the decision, though Arwen knew that it would take some time for Elladan to recover from this entire affair with Eol, the Hunter and the loss of Orophin. She suspected that her brother would harbor his deep guilt over Orophin’s death and his perceived abandoning of Imladris for some time but there was little she or Elrohir could do to help him. However, there was reason to hope that he would purge himself of this sadness by remaining behind to help their people build a future for themselves in Middle earth until it was times for the elves to leave these shores forever.

Arwen bid Morfiniel farewell, happy to see her mother’s old friend reaffirm her oath of caring for Celebrian’s children by taking her place in Elrond’s House once again to see to the needs of its twin lords. Furthermore Arwen had made Elladan and Elrohir promise to bring Morfiniel to see her the next time they visited in Gondor. Pallando has also opted to remain in Imladris for a time, wishing to aid in the recovery of the elves from their enchantment by Eol. Though it appeared that there were no lasting effects of their abuse by the enemy, Pallando wanted to keep an eye on them for a time, as well as reacquaint himself with Imladris, which he had not seen since arriving in Middle earth with the rest of the Istari.


Elladan and Elrohir were grateful to have the presence of the Istar in Imladris and Pallando had assured Aragorn that he would be journey to Isengard in due time to look in on the acolytes at the Orthanc. Despite the declarations made by the duo that they would be remaining in Imladris indefinitely, Arwen knew her brothers and it would not be long before they would be filled with the need to travel again. Her brothers were always wanderers at heart and would continue to do so, even if their journeys would be no longer as far or lengthy as before.

Shortly after their departure from Imladris, Haldir broke company with them bound for Lorien. He would take the Old Forest Road across the Misty Mountains and crossed the Anduin to Mirkwood. The March warden seemed a little better in spirit and Aragorn suspected that this had to do with his improved relationship with Legolas. The king wondered whether or not Legolas knew how Haldir felt about Melia but since he had promised Haldir to remain silent, Aragorn had no intention of bringing it up with the prince. Nevertheless, Aragorn was pleased to see that Haldir and Legolas had reach some form of understanding for there was now genuine warmth in their relationship.

Following Haldir’s divergence from their path, the company continued home. Aragorn could not deny enjoying the return trip with Arwen at his side. It had been so long since they had gone anywhere together and on the road, the kingship and the pleasant trials of parenthood seemed very far away. Until they entered the White City again, they were simply Aragorn and Arwen, two travelers who were enjoying each other and a rare moment of freedom from duty and obligation.

After crossing the Gap of Rohan, they company paused briefly at the Glittering Caves where Gimli was more than happy to offer them the comforts of his realm as well as spending some time with his wife Lorin. The lady was more than happy to receive the King and Queen of Gondor and the company was able to experience first hand the fabled hospitality of the dwarves as their arrival was reason enough for a feast to be held in their honor.

Aragorn and Faramir who were more than accustomed to holding their own in any drinking contest, found that dwarf draughts were truly evil concoctions though at the time of imbibing, it did not seem that way. The next morning had seen Faramir and Aragorn suffering the worst excesses of the previous night and Arwen found herself playing nursemaid to Legolas when they were all reminded why elves did not drink.

Once sufficiently recovered, the company resumed their journey once more, leaving Gimli behind with his wife for a time. After what they had endured these past weeks, Aragorn could not begrudge him wishing to take some rest before returning to Minas Tirith. The company continued home, pausing for a night and a day at Edoras to thank Eomer for all his aid in sending the Rohirrim and to partake of more comfortable lodgings for before they were required to depart again. Aragorn was also glad to see that Edoras was recovering from the siege by Eol’s army of Uruk Hai. It distressed Arwen to see just how far Eol had been willing to go in order to keep her and the memory of the elf and his obsession still made Arwen shudder with fear, even though he was now dead and gone forever. Aragorn suspected that it would be quite some time before she would be able to truly rid herself of the effects of her abduction.

************

Seeing her son after so many weeks apart was possibly the greatest joy that Arwen had known since his birth. When they were met on the steps of the palace upon returning home to Minas Tirith, Arwen thought that she might die from happiness at seeing the cherubic face cradled in Eowyn’s arms. She swept up her son in a warm embrace and though he was too young to know her, the infant recognized the scent of her and perhaps on some level even her voice. She held Eldarion in her arms as tears filled her eyes and turned to Aragorn who had an expression of his face of similar joy. Seeing Eldarion in the arms of his mother told Aragorn he had not failed either his son or his wife, that he had fulfilled the promise he made before leaving Minas Tirith to rescue Arwen.

Around him, the rest of the company was sharing similar moments of affection with their loved ones and Aragorn was happy that the evil of Eol had not permanently harmed those present. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Haldir and Elladan whose losses though different was no less painful and Aragorn hoped that in the months to come, they would both find some measure of peace in their own way. For himself, he had was satisfied that Eol would trouble them no more and equally grateful that the elf had not harmed Arwen or dishonored her in any way. Aragorn still bore much hatred of the dark elf whose cruel actions had nearly made his beloved Undomiel sacrifice her honor for her people. For that insult alone, Aragorn would have been prepared to kill him a thousand times over.

Fortunately, he had to be satisfied with just once. It was certainly enough.

*************

"I thought I was in dire state when you left," Eowyn remarked as her eyes moved over Faramir, following the passionate kiss they had shared upon beholding each other again. Concern seeped into her eyes as she saw that he was not left unmarked by the mission to rescue Arwen. Her own injuries had healed nicely and while her broken arm had not fully mended, she was grateful that the cast in which it was set, did not prevent her from holding him in her embrace when he was returned to her.

"Let us say that I shall be glad to return home to Ithilien. I could use the rest," Faramir replied, his arms still wrapped about her waist. It never ceased to amaze him, how wonderful it felt to be in her presence again. His wife was like a force of nature that allowed him the privilege of being in her presence. No matter how much time had passed and how deeply their love ran, Faramir would always be a little in awe of the shield maiden who had become his wife.

"I missed you terribly," Eowyn sighed, resting her head against his shoulder once again. "I feared that beast would do his worst and the thought of any harm befalling you was more than I could stand."

"It would take more than a monster from Angband to keep me from you," Faramir replied, breathing in the scent of her perfume in his lungs and realized that nothing convinced him more that he had come home than the feeling of being with her again. "Besides, I was more afraid of disappointing you by dying than I was of being killed by that creature." He added with a little smile.

"Well," she cocked a brow and her lips curled with mischief. "As long as you have your priorities in hand."

"I am glad to se you and Melia are better," he said kissing her hand gently. "You cannot know Legolas and I worried."

"I am in better stead then Melia," Eoywn replied. "Though you would not know it to look at her."

Indeed, Legolas and Melia were engaged in their own reunion and it was as passionate as the one that Faramir and Eowyn had enjoyed upon seeing each other again. The elf and his lady were engaged in a lingering kiss, showing all in their effect upon one another that they were still very much the newlyweds. Although Melia’s injuries were not as overt to the eye as Eowyn’s broken arm, her face still bore the marks of bruising and Legolas could not hold her too closely because her fractured ribs were still mending under her clothes. Legolas also noted that her movements were careful and deliberate as if she were taking care not to exert herself.


"I see Haldir kept his promise to me," Melia said happily when she pulled away from her prince’s embrace to speak. "You were kept safe and sound."

"I was quite capable of seeing to my own safety you know," Legolas pointed out a little sulkily that she should think he needed Haldir to watch his back.

"I know," Melia replied with a smirk upon her lips. "However, he is capable of vexing you in my absence and that brings order to my world. Haldir is all right though? He was not harmed?"

"The beast was not able to harm him," Legolas answered, still uncomfortable by this friendship shared by the two even though he knew that it was perfectly innocent, on her part at least.

"I meant by you," she quipped.

Legolas gave her a look, "I see our parting has not dulled your wit."

"Or your ability to fend against it," she said as sweetly before hugging him again, albeit gently because she was still feeling the pains of her injury.

"Tell me something," Legolas asked as he rubbed his cheek against her hair when they embraced again. "Am I pretty?"

************

"He has grown so much!" Arwen declared looking up at Aragorn, her face radiant with happiness as she held Eldarion in her arms, enjoying her reunion with her son.

Since their departure, Eowyn had enlisted the aid of Ioreth, one of the older healers in the House of Healing. The lady had recently retired her position at the famous Gondorian institution and was more than happy to occupy her time by playing nurse to the crown prince of Gondor during his mother’s abduction and his father’s quest to rescue her. For Ioreth, who had been one of the first in Gondor to know that the king had returned to them, it was an honor to serve for she had a warm place in her heart for the father as well as the son.

"He has been a delight, my queen," Ioreth added as she witnessed the happy reunion. "He gave me no trouble at all and I do think he missed you."

"Do you think so?" Arwen looked up at the old lady and then at the sweet face before her. So many things about him had changed in such a short time, his hair had thickened now to a dark shade that bore good resemblance to her own and his eyes had finally acquired its permanent color. It was to Arwen’s utmost delight that she saw Aragon’s eyes staring back at her and a little of Elrond in his features, specially in his chin and his mouth.


"A baby always misses his mother," Ioreth said knowingly, warmed by the happy scene before her. "Though from what I understand he probably did not mind the break from seeing his father, if what the household staff tells me is true about the frequency of your visits to the nursery, Sire," the lady gave Aragorn a teasing look.

"I am king, it is my duty to ensure that every part of the my kingdom is in order, including the nursery," Aragorn defended himself as he took Eldarion from Arwen and held his son up in his hands, marveling at how small the infant looked in his grasp. He lifted the child up in the air and was rewarded by an amused chuckle from Eldarion.

"He is smiling." Aragorn announced proudly.

"Aragorn stop that," Arwen warned, having that ingrown maternal instinct that was capable of recognizing the difference between a smile and nausea. "You will make him ill."

"Arwen," Aragorn stared at her, still holding Eldarion before him. "My son is stronger than that."

"But Sire," Ioreth warned. "He has just been fed…"

She never finished her sentence because Eldarion cut her off with a loud burp that was followed by the rejection of his earlier feeding - all over his father’s tunic.

"He has retched all over me!" Aragorn cried out and promptly lowered the child before he did worse.

Arwen started to laugh as Aragorn handed Eldarion to Ioreth, kissing her husband on the cheek lovingly. Aragorn was looking at the front of his shirt in distaste and wrinkling his nose at the odor it produced. "That is no way to treat the king," he mumbled, glaring at the child who stared back in complete innocence.

"But you are not his king," Arwen reminded as she looked at him with all the wisdom of the ages in her smile, "you are his father and I think you rather he know as the latter than the former."

Aragorn could not deny that nor could he deny that he enjoyed being a parent very much, even when it had such embarrassing consequences, "I do," he nodded kissing her forehead gently. "It is good to be home."

"Yes," she shook her head, "it is even better to be home with both of you."

As he gazed at his dear wife and their friends, the King of Gondor felt a wave of pleasure knowing that for now at least, everything in their world had settled back into place. His wife and child were safe and that the company surrounded him with their friendship. Aragorn thought of Eol and felt a sliver of pity for the dark elf who never knew that his defeat lay not in his the loss of his powers but being incapable of understanding that it was the love and friendship that had made his enemies strong, not their persistence.

As Aragorn basked in the sight of people around him, he smiled with pleasure knowing that because of them, he felt very strong indeed.

[center]THE END[/center]
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