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Rising Storm

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Night had come again, just as dark as the last, bringing with it the rumble of thunder. Ralamir did his best to keep from spooking at the threatening roar. His hooves trod slowly, his eyes wide, looking for landmarks he tried to draw from his memory. The sight of the fallen, deadened oak, wedged in the crook of a topless tree relayed to him that they must not be far off.

The burden on Ralamir’s back had not stirred the whole length of the day. The elf had told him not to worry, but the horse had cast uncertain glances back throughout the day. He wished more than anything for Aragorn to awake from his corpse like state and guide him. Though bright of mind among his own breed, he was still a horse and needed the hand of his master to show him the way.

There was a sudden flash followed by a sharp crack that broke the coal black sky. Ralamir nearly spun in fright, only did the reassuring weight on his back keep him from fleeing. In this short moment Ralamir beheld a welcomed sight as the illumination from the lightning lit the wall of an embankment just steep and high enough to be classified as a cliff.

Ears pricked forward, the bay pushed threw the thick shrubbery along the base of the cliff, careful not to rub too close. The longer he trod, the better his homing instinct grew. Then he caught a whiff of something man made. Pushing on, the smell grew stronger with each step until he stopped. In his mind, even in the darkness this place held a remembrance.

Ralamir eyed the wall warily, not at all eager to push through with a limp being on his back. He snorted, and nuzzled the shrubby cliff with his muzzle. Stomping a foot, he began pawing impatiently, letting a quiet whiney break the damp air in-between the claps of thunder.

As the minutes dragged on, Ralamir grew more and more impatient as the wizard inside failed to notice him. Throwing caution to the wind, he let out a full blast bugle, his flanks shaking as his lungs heaved. It wasn’t long before a shaggy head poked from the shrubs. Ralamir had reason to bestow on Fasse a smarting nip.

"I say, I say! Don’t be so testy beast of man! My ears aren’t like they used to be you know." Fasse peered about, his head still all that was showing, "Dear me, what happened to the elf lad? Or your ranger?"

Ralamir’s ears pinned in aggravation, butting the odd Istar. "Deary indeed!" Cried Fasse when he caught sight of the human lying over Ralamir’s broad back. The wizard pushed the shrubs back far enough for the horse to pass without disturbing his burden. With last withering look, Ralamir passed within.

The smell which had led the horse turned out to be a pot of soup over a small, smokeless fire. Where Fasse had dug ingredients for a soup was a mystery, but the wizard seemed to have odd talents. Fasse pulled the dead weight of the ranger from Ralamir’s back, careful to be gentle lest he rile the temper of the beast again. He inspected the man for any wounds or illness, but found nothing to warrant his unconsciousness. He was no healer by any means, but he would have had the basic knowledge to tell if the man had been stabbed or mortally wounded in some way. Blood was the usual side effect. (A/N: You did hear the sarcasm…right?)

Fasse sat back, puzzled, then shrugged and went back to his soup. But as he turned to rise, a pair of fiery eyes and a snort warned him back. Ralamir stood with his head lowered forehead to forehead with the wizard. From the light in the horse’s eyes, Ralamir had no intention of letting Fasse eat his soup before Aragorn awoke, alive and well. Fasse sat back down with a grunt.

Thankfully for him, Aragorn was not long in showing signs of awakening. Slowly, his eye’s blinked open, blurry and confused. With a groan he pushed himself up on his elbows, trying in his muddled state to sort out his surroundings.

"Haloo and good waking to you! I say, I say, you gave your beast quite a scare." Fasse clucked in his face, sparing the man no peace.

Aragorn blinked at him, working on clearing his head of the cobwebs. "What happened?" he asked hoarsely.

Fasse sat back, tsking and shaking his shaggy head. "Why should you ask me? You only just arrived in your incapacitated state. Your devilish beast practically bowled me over with his incessant stamping and butting. With all your elvish steeds, why you choose such a…"

"Fasse!" Aragorn interjected hotly, "Please! Your babbling is not helping matters," the shaggy wizard cocked his head at the upset man but remained silent. "Let me think for a moment."

Ralamir’s twitched his ears forward, watching his master intently as Aragorn pressed his thumbs to his forehead. Fasse shrugged, and wandered back to his soup. Unspoken, the wizard itched to ask if they had found anything that would help him out of his dilemma, but wisely thought it best to let the man think first. He was finding these rangers to be quiet the temperamental sort, they and their horses as well.

Aragorn wracked his brain for the words and memories to fill the empty gap of time in his mind. Up to standing outside the Dunlending lord’s estate speaking…something…to Legolas, he recalled, but beyond that, there was nothing. The next memory was waking up just a few moments ago. He abruptly leapt to his feet, the room spinning haphazardly. "Fasse, where is Legolas?"

Fasse glanced at him, mid bite. "The elf? I do not know. It was just you and that beast of yours. Unless there is another cursed animal pawing at…"

It seemed Aragorn was making a habit of awakening to find Legolas gone. A bad habit at that. He looked at Ralamir standing beside him. If only he had Legolas’s elvish ability to speak with the horse. Then slowly, he unconsciously sunk to the floor again as memory suddenly flooded back…

"I can’t believe he did that." He whispered in shock at the aggressive action his gentle friend had taken. Disbelief was all that kept him from full-blown fiery rage. To protect him. All he had heard while growing up, all he had experienced from his brothers and family, was to protect him. Had they ever thought he might be tired of living in an impenetrable shell? "I can’t believe it!" As the situation sunk in, burning anger and frustration welled up within him. Ralamir jerked his head and shied as Aragorn swung his arms up above his head in anger. "He has no sense in his sun bleached brain. What nerve would allow him to do this?"

Fasse, not entirely sure what the young man was ranting about, did his best to offer his condolences and advice. "Now, now. I’m sure he had his reasons, one way or another. He’ll be fine on his own for a bit. I’m sure he’s had…"

"I’m sick of this." Aragorn began to pace, his jaw clinched. "Will I be grey and still have them coddling me?" Fasse looked ready to interject about grey hair, but no sooner had his mouth opened than did Aragorn pierce him with a vehement glare. "You don’t understand. The block-headed, stiff-necked, human ‘protecting’, elf will go throw himself into some situation that no one could come out of alive! In the name of protecting me because of my need." Aragorn fell again onto a crate of dried goods. "Most likely he’s already in the blasted building and is standing at sword point," he said bitterly.

Little did he know just how true his words were.

---

"Bind him."

The circle tightened around the lone elf. They were taking no chances, leaving no openings. Legolas tensed as four flanked him with lances pressed against his chest and back. Two more stepped from the ranks with heavy iron bindings. He was stuck, there was no fighting his way out of this one if he wished to remain alive. He could do nothing but stand submissively as the men ripped the shrouding cloak away and pulled his arms behind his back, roughly clinching the tight bindings around the soft flesh of his wrists. His hands were not the only part of him that chaffed at this bondage.

From the doorway, the lordly man motioned to the two men, "Search him for it." At his bidding, the men who had bound him first removed the two most obvious weapons then patted him down. Triumphantly, the shorter of the two men pulled the letter from the inner layer of his tunic and handed it back to the commanding man, whom Legolas now knew to be the one and only Chief Borlanon.

"Welcome, elf." Until now, the almost ranger like man beside Borlanon had not spoken. His voice was deep and held a sinister tone to it. "I was expecting you would be dropping in eventually." He stepped forward until he was face to face with the elf, his dark eyes hooded, "I thought I’d prepare a welcoming party for you. After all, we did start out on the wrong foot that night I came to pay you and your friends a visit." The deep voice held so much contempt and smooth sarcasm you could almost taste it. Vanen turned to the side, taking a sharpened letter opener from the desk. He made a show of admiring the intricately tooled handle, inset with jade. Slowly, thoughtfully he rolled the handle about in his fingers. "As you already know, I’ve been told to kill you. Pity you didn’t make it easier for me and just bring your human friend along with you." A pleasant smile laced his face as if he was relating his disappointment that Aragorn was not joining them for a dinner. "But I suppose I’ll just have to settle with you for now." Vanen stepped until he was almost toe to toe with the bound elf. He rested the knife against Legolas’s throat. A bead of crimson slid along the blade. "Which is perfectly fine, since I have," he paused as if looking for words, "pressing debts and issues to settle with you first." He tapped the knife lightly against Legolas’s throat then turned away again, taking a step back. "But, I have decided that my goals would be best fulfilled if I allowed you to enjoy Dunlending hospitality a mite longer."

Legolas felt his heart leap as Vanen’s scheme became obvious. He was meant to be bait. Bait to draw Aragorn into Vanen’s clutches. With a most un-elvish snarl he jerked against the bonds holding him. The men’s hands tightened on his arms, spears were instantly penning him in. Vanen on the outside of the bristling ring of weapons met Legolas’s fiery gaze. "I’m sure your friend will not wish to miss out for long." Vanen pivoted on a heel disappearing out the door. Legolas wished to fight, wished to grasp the man’s neck for all he was worth. But he was held helpless as the Dunlending guards dragged him away down the opposite corridor.

---

Aragorn was in a foul state of mind the next morning. Fasse had coaxed him to take some rest during the remainder of the night, but it had done little to ease Aragorn’s fiery temper. As much as he hated to admit it, Aragorn’s worry was quickly overriding any anger he held against his friend. After all, he tried to reason, he should be mad at the elf. Legolas had not turned up that night or even passing into later morning. Half of him expected the elf to appear at his shoulder as he had done so many times before, a habit that drove Aragorn’s nerves to their end. But the other half, the half of reality, knew that if Legolas did not come soon…

Aragorn continued pacing, a path worn in the dirt floor. Fasse sat in his chair, one weathered hand propping his shaggy chin in its palm, lightly dozing. His mind was in turmoil. He glared at Ralamir who stood, immovable as a stone wall at the entrance of the cave. Aragorn would have been long gone if not for the horse. The bay had taken up a stiff residence at the entrance, nipping and pinning his ears whenever Aragorn attempted to pass him. The stallion proved to have a strong will, and when he did not wish something, you could sway him no other way. With only one entrance, in or out, Aragorn was stuck inside the cave, by a horse no less, while his friend was probably trapped hand and foot in a cell. The ranger dared not think further on the elf’s condition.

Ralamir’s ears suddenly perked, his head raising as he listened to something unheard yet by Aragorn. The horse stomped a hoof, his nostrils quivering. Aragorn stopped his motion, though mad as he was with the horse he trusted the creature’s scenes. Dimly, he heard the flap of wings and a loud cawing. Ralamir stamped and pawed, he tossed his head and was obviously sensing something about these creatures that was beyond Aragorn’s knowledge. The opening now clear of the horse, Aragorn crept outside just in time to see a cloud of black swoop above the trees. Crebain of Dunland.

Then a few of the crows dropped something from their talons. Aragorn’s heart was in his throat when they fell to the forest floor. An elvish bow and quiver, and a white handled knife.

---

"We have sent out your crebain my lord, to locate these intruders." Ghâshronk gloated to the white figure.

"As you should. They draw too close. What is taking you so long in this simple task?" he demanded.

The orc seemed to cower from his master’s disapproval. "We do have the elf my lord. The human is still hidden. The Dunlending plans to draw him out by using the elf. It will not be long."

"I would hope so. For your sake."

Ghâshronk bowed his twisted back in honor to the white figure’s demands.

"If they find evidence to support that fool of a wizard, and manage to bring it back alive, I will have your head." He swore, stepping towards the shrunken orc menacingly. The elf and man were too close. He would not let them expose him, he could not let them. And if it meant the life of a few Dunlendings and orcs, he cared not.

---

"You cannot go in this frame of mind!" Fasse unsuccessfully tried to reason with Aragorn. The man had been nearly frantic since the appearance of the crebain.

"I can have no other mindset when my friend is in the hands of these…these, people!" Reluctantly, Ralamir stood for Strider as he tethered Legolas’s weapons to his saddle.

Fasse threw his hands up and huffed into his great beard. "You humans. I will never understand you! So emotional, one moment happy as a bird on a spring morning, then the next moment as infuriated as a hive of bees in a storm!"

Aragorn quieted his rushed movements then. "Legolas is always saying that." Fasse looked at him with an unspoken apology. Aragorn lead Ralamir from the cave, they were greeted once again by a soft pattering of rain. "Be sure to stay inside," he cautioned Fasse. "Those birds have most likely reported our hiding spot." Spending no extra time, he swung into the saddle and spurred Ralamir through the shrubbery.

As the day wore on, the rain began in earnest, but it slowed neither Aragorn nor Ralamir. The bay horse was much more at ease now, being guided through the trees. Neither did he shy from the thunder when it growled in the heavens. Though before he had not allowed Aragorn to venture back to the city, he was no happier about it now. But, the man had proof with which to support his cause. He was his master’s bondservant, it was now his duty to obey and protect.

Rain turned to sheets of heavy down pour. They bowed their heads against it, but pressed on though they were soaked to the bone. The canopy of the trees gave no shelter or shield from the wind and rain. Lightning cracked giving a moment of sickly illumination. Branches, twisted and oddly lighted by the half-light of the day, seemed to stretch out to grasp and claw at horse and rider. Without the elf in their company, the forest looked more hostile than ever.

---

His cell had no lighting, and definitely no source of comfort. Of course, the relative safety of the cell had not been his first destination on his Dunlending guided tour. Legolas had been first introduced to the ‘hospitality’ of the Dunland people by a severe whipping, courtesy of two burly limbed men.

Aching, he lowered himself into a corner, gingerly leaning his smarting back against the soothingly cool stone. The pain was only a dim throb compared to the worry which gnawed at his heart as he thought of his potential use for evil to his friend. He clinched the chains that bound his hands behind him. They signified his helplessness and inability to prevent what was to come. His own life did not matter, though a prince he was, there were his older brother to take the throne at the proper time. But as dim as the future seemed, he knew there was still hope. Alas, hope was still free, and as long as there was hope, Legolas was free and unbound, iron shackling or no.