Prologue:
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.

Part One:
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."

Part Two:
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 [i]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[/i] 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."

Part Three:
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 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 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."

Part Four:
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!"

Part Five:
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.

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