First Name Terms

Part Two

Vigilance

The tempestuous sky that had threatened all afternoon finally broke at twilight and sent down a heavy drizzle that washed the grey stones clean. A cold wind chilled the shuddering pines. But the soldier crouched within them did not feel it. He perched on one of the ancient branches perilously. He held as still as the rocks beneath him, the only part of him that moved were his eyes which roved ceaselessly over the grey rock, searching.

“Captain?”

The addressed did not turn as his branch trembled a little under another’s weight.

The newcomer waited a moment for acknowledgement. He looked younger than his counterpart though they had the same colored hair and grey tunics which did not differentiate officers from subordinates for obvious safety reasons. At the moment the elf’s usually merry eyes were troubled though he tried to hide it under a mask of playfulness.

“If you’ve fallen asleep on me, I’m going to steal your bread ration. All this climbing is hungry work,” though he rubbed his hollow stomach wistfully.

When still no acknowledgement came, he half-leaned out to one side, trying to catch a glimpse of his companion’s face. “Did you hear me? I said I’m going to steal your bread ration.”

“You can have it all if you have good news to report.”

The younger elf let out a long, disappointed sigh. “Well, then I’m afraid it’s another lean supper tonight.”

A sympathetic smile curled the officer’s lips as he licked a venturesome raindrop rolling down his upper lip. “Are you going to make that report any time soon, Ancadal, or are you waiting until I waste away?”

Ancadal swept several drenched tendrils out of his face before resting his weight against the tree trunk and pretending to examine his mud-crusted boots as he spoke. “Thillas’ wounds are mending well, thankfully. But our supplies are low. Orcs have robbed the land of whatever fertility and beauty it once had and the foraging party came back with almost nothing.” It was the orcs that had brought them there in the first place after a raid on the borders had left six good warriors slain. “We won’t be able to hold out much longer at this rate.”

His captain straightened up and stretched, his legs having cramped after kneeling motionless for so long. “What of Gilas?” He asked as blood tingled back into his extremities. They had sent a runner through the lines when the fighting had finally lulled in hopes of reaching Lothlórien and reinforcements. That was eight days ago now and the elves dispatched to the ravine had only carried light supplies when going into battle.

“No word.” Ancadal stared up through the dripping old pines which, for sheer age, had nearly lost all their needles. “What are we going to do if he doesn’t return in time, Haldir? We don’t even know if he made it. Orcs were crawling all over that rift passage…”

“We must hope-and keep up our strength,” Haldir, the captain of the northern fences, had been rummaging in a satchel looped over a branch as he spoke and extracted a crumbling leaf-wrapped package which he tossed to his friend. “How long do we have?”

Ancadal caught it against his chest and snapped off a small piece of the precious golden wafer within. Chewing slowly to savor it, he sat down, letting his legs dangle. “Enough for tonight. The next day maybe. In all likelihood the wolves will get us before we starve to death.”

“That’s reassuring, Ancadal, thank you.”

Ancadal smiled slightly. “I try. But Annondil is going to drive me to distraction before either wolves or hunger get us. He has all his father’s arrogance and talent for underestimating the enemy. He still doesn’t see why we don’t just charge the orcs-as if we had the numbers!”

“Is there any chance at all, do you think, that they might finish each other off?”

“I wish.” Ancadal snorted. He didn’t like Annondil, one of the younger officers in their small group. The Colonel of the Guard, a hard-nosed former soldier, had shipped his eldest off to the borders as soon as tempers got hot at home to visit suffering on the northern fences, whose commanding officer he often locked horns with.

“A stripe or two would not go amiss with that young hot-head,” Haldir murmured, returning his gaze to the silent trees. “Pity they let that tradition die out.”

“Good thing too or there wouldn’t be much of you left,” Ancadal grinned.

Haldir threw a sour look over his shoulder. “What mean you? I was a good little soldier.”
Ancadal burst into cynical laughter as he picked crumbs off his tunic. “Oh, yes! Never will I forget your dedicated duty to sleeping through the watch until Fedorian came round to snap you up on your heels.”

“The dawn watch!” Haldir protested mildly. “Who can stay awake through that? The boredom alone saps you of all will. Fortunately-” he continued as he leapt lightly to the ground. “I have subordinates to do that for me now.”

“Yeah, lucky you,” Ancadal followed his companion, landing catlike beside him.

The two warriors fell silent as they made their careful way along the tree edge, keeping to cover as much as they could. The near naked pine trees and lack of undergrowth left them terribly exposed but they led charmed lives or were watched over by something higher than themselves or their enemies for they met nothing.

Suddenly Haldir reached out and grasped his friend’s sleeve, stopping him in his tracks. “Do you hear that?”

The younger elf stilled and listened. “Sounds like…”

As one, they concealed themselves quickly within the shadow of an overhang as another chuckle of dark laughter trickled down from the rocks. They scarcely repressed a shudder at the horrible voice, straining to catch the words.

“Still stubborn, gangrel?”

A soft cry of pain jolted the keen ears of the elves but it was lost in the rattle of things they couldn’t see and presently the voice spoke again.

“Nothing else worth having.”

Without warning, a loud clattering, grating noise reached their ears and a few stones slipped down from above, suddenly followed by something dark and heavy which fell over the hanging spur the elves crouched under and landed almost at their feet.

The orc and his quarry had been more than six meters above his head and Aragorn was just regaining consciousness when he felt the orc’s steel-tipped boot prod him towards the ledge. He didn’t even have time to grasp vainly at the stone before he felt air open up beneath him. He free fell eighteen feet before the slope leveled and he slammed into an uneven angle of stony ground, landing on his injured shoulder. Brilliant bursts of purple and yellow exploded in front of his eyes as a rock split open his temple at the same time his arm gave a nauseating crack. A wave of pain washed blackness before his eyes and he surrendered gladly into it.

As the dust settled, the elves ventured slowly out of their concealment. Haldir glanced up at the overhang. There were no more voices. The orc was not coming for his prey.

“It is no orc,” Ancadal said, moving cautiously towards the limp figure sprawled not two feet from them.

“It is a man,” his companion’s voice was very quiet.

The younger elf glanced over his shoulder at his officer then back at the pitiful figure slumped on the rocks. “What on earth is a human doing out here?”

“Should I have an answer to that question?”

“Oh, he’s young, Haldir.” Ancadal knelt beside the still form and gently turned him over onto his back.

Aragorn moaned but did not regain consciousness.

Only slowly did Haldir convince himself to approach though he remained standing, staring down at his friend’s head and the darker one beneath him. “Are not all humans young to us?”

“He’s barely more than a child.”

Haldir rapped his blade on the rocky ground impatiently, blunting the tip. All traces of his former good humor had deserted him. “What does that matter? Come. Before others do. Who knows how many he was unfortunate to come across before they slew him…” He was already walking away.

“He’s not dead.”

The captain froze. Turning slowly, he regarded his friend with something akin to disappointment. “What?”

Ancadal was bent close to the young man, listening to his breath intently. “He lives. His chest rises and falls still. I don’t know for how long though…he took a bad-”

“By rights he should be dead…after a fall like that…” Despite himself, Haldir knelt next to his fellow soldier, eyeing the unforeseen difficulty that had so suddenly dropped into their already overly-complicated lives.

Long years of fighting seemingly insurmountable and often hopeless wars, recovering broken bodies of young recruits from the battlefront, and watching his world change ever more speedily around him had worn threadbare the precious compassion left in the elf captain, leaving behind only the roughened edges. Haldir eyed the human with immediate distrust.

Ancadal’s voice prompted him out of his thoughts. “Haldir? What are we going to do with him?”

“We do not need any more injured to deal with. Nor another mouth to feed.”

“But he will die if he’s left here on his own,” Ancadal said, slightly shocked. “You would not leave him here alone to face whatever jackal might come across him.”

“Go back to camp. I’ll be there shortly.”

Ancadal balked at the order, clearly uncertain. “What are you going to do with him?”

Haldir looked at him sharply and Ancadal knew he had come dangerously close to those invisible lines all who personally knew the commander could not cross, that impassable barrier between friend and captain. The strength of authority in the other’s face unbent the other’s knees.

Ancadal glanced uneasily down at him. Even his friend’s prestigious rank could not completely prevent him from issuing at least one caution. “His death is not certain.”

“What is in this world?”

When he was sure the younger elf had gone, Haldir returned to his contemplation of the human.

A thickening crimson line ran under his jaw from a long gash on his temple. If he didn’t have a concussion it would be a miracle. Carefully leaning over him without touching him, Haldir caught sight of jagged white splinters plunging out of the leather. An arrow. The fall must have ripped the haft off. The arm too was hanging at an awkward angle which almost certainly meant a dislocated if not broken shoulder.

Dark brown hair hung in draggled tangles over the high forehead, pale skin showing beneath the grime of hard travel. The un-chiseled face and unlined cheeks made Haldir wonder just how young the boy was. He was no great guesser at human ages but he did know it had been a very, very long time since he had been accosted by one this young.

“What on earth were you doing out here, child?” Haldir muttered to the unconscious ranger.
His first, instinctive response was ‘nothing good.’ He knew enough of the race of Men to know he never wanted dealings with any of them again. His last encounter with them, many years ago now, had been particularly painful and one he did not care to dwell on overmuch anymore. But this young human was bringing those hard-fought memories back with an uncomfortable rush. His very presence was nauseating.

A low whimper pushed past the young man’s pale lips and distracted the elf from his whirling thoughts. His unexpected charge was beginning to wake. Realizing he had to act fast, Haldir took a firmer grip on the arm, careful of the shattered wooden splinters, and, with a last quick, searching glance around, tugged down sharply at the same time pushing inwards.

Aragorn cried out and tried to curl over his arm as the bone snapped back into its socket with a painful crunch. But the elf held him firmly down until the tremors subsided. Abruptly, Haldir stood and walked a few paces away, his back turned firmly towards the figure whose heavy, pained gasps were so audible to his ears.

“Adar.”

Haldir started. He hadn’t realized the boy was still conscious. By rights, the pain alone should have been sufficient to pass him out again. But, incredibly, grey-green eyes, glazed and constricted with agony, were staring up at the sky and he was murmuring soft words with pale lips.

“Adar? Adar…help me, please…I-I can’t move…”

Haldir didn’t know what to do. So he stood there, staring down as the young human tried to raise his head but the effort cost too much and he sank back against the rocks with a wince. His eyes were unfocused as though he saw something or someone other than the elf in front of him. “Adar…please. I do need you. I’m sorry…I had to leave-”

Hearing the boy, in his pain, call out instinctively for his father jarred something deep inside the elf. Many times he had heard dying soldiers, no few of them a hundred times this young man’s age, crying out for their parents in the last throes. And he had used the elven tongue too-albeit with a distinctly western accent. When a pale, blood-smeared hand reached upwards, he hesitantly moved forward and grasped the cold fingers, speaking in soft Sindarin as it seemed the boy understood it.

“Your Adar’s not here. But someone is. Go to sleep.”

The cloudy eyes seemed to light with reassurance before they closed in darkness once more.

Haldir heaved a sigh and with a much gentler gesture than he had used previously, laid the hand on its owner’s chest. If left here, he would die for certain. Perhaps he would wait to see what the boy had to say for himself. If he could live out the night…Rubbing a hand hard over his face, Haldir glanced up at the sky barely glimpsed against the dark outline of rock and the still-lingering fog. Ancadal would be missing him by now.

Mindful of the newly repositioned arm Haldir settled the majority of the young man’s weight across his shoulders and bodily lifted him leaving the arm and the human’s head dangling against his back. Shifting the dead weight and taking a firmer grip on the grey-green overcoat’s battered sleeve to balance himself a little better, the elf began to pick his way carefully into the growing twilight with his new burden.

-----------

“Where has he got to?”

“Ancadal, you saw him last. Did he say when he would return?”

“‘Shortly,’” the warrior replied, curled up in his cloak between the roots of a great dark pine which spread like a vast shadow over the entire encampment. “He will return when he returns and not before, Déorian.”

Déorian, the elf who had first spoken, chafed his hands together restlessly. “Wish he’d hurry up. It’s getting dark early now. Things creep out of their holes-if we haven’t put them in one already.”

“A fire would be nice.” Another piped up wistfully from where he lay with his injured leg propped up under the shadows of a low-hanging pine.

Déorian snorted. “Yes, it would be. For us and for every yrch archer in this thrice-damned rift.”

“Don’t fret, chaps, we’ve got them bagged,” came a chipper voice from above their heads. A lissome shadow dropped soundlessly onto the thick carpet of pine needles and settled itself cross-legged between Déorian and Ancadal.

The two soldiers turned eagerly on her. “What’s going on out there, Linwen? Anything?”

“Silent as a mouse’s whiskers,” said the female soldier, unstringing her bow tiredly. “Nothing to be heard, seen, yawned at or eaten for miles and miles and miles. Where’s the captain?”
“Silence does not always mean a welcome respite,” Ancadal said prophetically, ignoring the question he had already answered once, then turned to the elf under the low pine tree. “How is your leg, Thillas?”

The elf in question shifted the injured limb with a small grimace. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Wasn’t Eremae going to come with us this time?” Ancadal squatted beside the injured elf to check the dressings.

Cynical Déorian laughed at the idea of their stringent healer being dragged from her infirmary. “Captain wouldn’t have her. Though, so rumor says, he’d have her anywhere else.”

Ancadal cast him a disapproving look. “Who on earth told you such lies? You ought not to repeat every sordid speculation you hear, Déorian.”

“Oh, come on, Ancadal. No wife, no children, no woman to speak of…It does make one curious does it not? All those nights spent in the healer’s ward with nothing but a burning candle and bandages…” He sniggered.

“I said that’s-”

“Gossiping in the dark like little elf women. For shame.”

The troop looked round as their captain entered the makeshift camp, bearing a large lumpy thing like a sack across his shoulders.

“What did you find, Captain?” Linwen bounded up eagerly and laid a charming smile on her older officer. Sprightly by nature, she could never resist a curiosity.

“It’s about time,” Déorian muttered, not at all abashed at being overheard.

Haldir ignored their queries and comments as he settled his unconscious bundle on the pine needled ground at the far side of the camp, closest the stream. “One of you, give me your herb pack. Déorian, stop speculating about my bed and light a fire.”

The elves exchanged looks with each other in the dark. Something had happened. The normal good humor had evaporated entirely from their commander’s voice, replaced by tension even…fear?

“Is he badly hurt?” Ancadal asked, kneeling on the human’s other side and easing a pack beneath his head.

“What do you mean ‘light a fire?’ It’ll be a beacon…”

“Do as your captain says,” Ancadal cut him off with uncharacteristic brusqueness as he caught sight of the ashen young face.

A spark of flame lit the underside of the human jaw as Déorian set alight a small pile of pine needles and larch branches. “What is that?”

Haldir was already unfastening the human’s tunic to examine the arrow wound better by the light of the fire. “My new pet. Give me one of your packs. Now!”

“There’s nothing left to give,” Déorian said. “Ancadal used the last of the bandages for Thillas’ dressings. How exactly did a human manage to get so far out here? Was he alone?”

“He looks like a vagabond.”

Haldir glanced up at the scornful, disapproving tone and met the gaze of a fierce-eyed young elf who stood with his arms crossed near the fire. “You can question my judgement when I’m wrong, Annondil. He is not going anywhere tonight. Start boiling water.” He tore a strip from his cloak and wrapped it around the broken arrow shaft to stem the worst of the bleeding then turned to Déorian again.

“Where did you pile them?”

It took Déorian a minute to figure out what his captain was talking about then with blenched face, he pointed towards the stream bank where the dirt had not yet completely frozen.

Haldir returned less than a quarter of an hour later, his hands and knees soiled with mud but grim triumph burning in his eyes. Over one shoulder hung a mud- and blood-spattered satchel.

“Hopefully some treatment will be better than none,” he answered their appalled, questioning stares.

Ancadal shook his head as Haldir upended the contents of the foul sack. “You can’t give him that, Haldir. That’s orc stuff. It’ll poison him.”

Haldir sorted through several ugly assorted vials and crude wraps. “If we do nothing, it’ll still kill him. Either way, he might die but at least this way, he has a slim chance. I thought you were all for helping the stray human, Ancadal. You balk now?”

The kind elf slowly shook his head. “I will do what I can.”

“Hold his head.”

Bruises in varying impressive shades of black and purple were already sprawling across the bare skin of the man’s chest and side. Haldir explored the largest one on the lower right side experimentally, looking up when the young man’s face contorted with pain. Fractured rib too. His fingers and palms had been lacerated by sharp stones as well. From ineffectually trying to stop his fall. But the worst by far was the arrow wound…

The shoulder joint was swollen and red where the shaft had broken, leaving only an inch or so of bloody, splintered wood protruding grotesquely from the flesh. The gleaming tip had been twisted viciously, forced in and up. The keen-eyed elf could just see barely it poking out near his collarbone- too near his neck for comfort.

Haldir knew firsthand just how badly an untreated arrow wound could hurt. He would not wish that pain on anyone though his feelings towards men were mixed. Picking up one of the vials, he smeared his fingers with some vile gunk and spread it liberally over the worst of the bruising and cuts. Ancadal tightened his grip on the young human’s arms as he began to squirm restlessly.

Déorian set down a bowl of water at his commander’s knee and drew back, exchanging a wary glance with Annondil who only scowled. Neither had had much experience with men and weren’t altogether willing to improve on that.

Haldir cleaned and bound the wounds he could see, doing anything and everything he could think of before tackling the problem of the arrow. If he could even manage to remove it cleanly there was little chance of the human not contracting an infection that might kill him. Or even if no infection presented, he could simply die of blood loss. Humans were fragile that way. So easy to kill…

“This is madness!” Annondil hissed out of the side of his mouth to Déorian who only shook his head in response. “As if we did not have enough to deal with already-now we have this as well. My father would never have suffered such foolishness…”

“Then it is well your father is not with us,” Ancadal said in a tone just loud enough for the younger elf to hear.

Haldir did not have time for their reticence. “If you’re not going to be helpful then you can take the watch.” He raised his voice a little so they all could hear him. “You’re all dismissed. Report to me if anything stirs.” He stole another quick glance at the man’s face. “Give me your cloaks first.”

“Sir?” Ancadal raised an eyebrow though he was already shrugging the cloak off his shoulders.

“Your cloaks. Give them to me.”

“Why?” Déorian demanded. He liked his cloak very much and didn’t quite have as much faith in his captain as Ancadal did.

“Humans are susceptible to cold and this fire isn’t going to last another hour. I need something to keep him warm.”

Reluctantly and with some muttering, the soldiers did as they were bid and pulled off their warm cloaks or spare blankets and passed them to their commanding officer.

Ancadal lingered for a moment or two longer as the others drew for the watch and drifted off. “This is good of you.”

“I do not need validation from you for the generosity of my actions.” Haldir did not spare his friend a backward glance as he drew the gathered cloaks over the trembling young man. Humans as he had known them had caused him nothing but pain, nothing but bad memories.

Ancadal fiddled with his bowstring, looking a little uncomfortable. “I-I just know how hard it is for you to-”

“Go join the watch, Ancadal.”

Déorian and Annondil had been the other two chosen for the nightlong vigil. But the remaining did not leave whether for curiosity or a sense of loyalty Haldir neither knew nor cared. While their captain tended the stranger they shared a cold meal in quiet speculation and settled in for another long night.