-Shadows on the Snow-

By: Bill the Pony

Rating: PG-13 (future planned violence…maybe)

Spoilers: Rising Storm (my own fic), perhaps the trilogy.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters do not belong to me, but to Tolkien or whoever owns them at the moment. I only have my muses and Fasse, Gorban, Ralamir, Falmarin and all other obscure characters.

Summary: Two months after the event in Dunland (told in Rising Storm) Aragorn and Legolas set out to escort Fasse to Rohan. Unfortunately, an early winter is not foreseen until it hits the three full force, bringing with it the danger of the wild.

Note: I have gone through much toil trying to bring up excuses this story might fit in with the event of the books. I can only guess that this comes a good two years to two and a half before the start of the Fellowship of the Ring and the War of the Ring. I had to figure a way to get Legolas back in Mirkwood before the Council scene so Gollum can do his thing, and Aragorn on the prowl with the hobbits. I think this slides in okay. With the help of Tehalanae (and some other wonderful people) on the Mellon Chronicles group (shameless plug for Cassia and Sio) I took her estimates and plugged them in with some average traveling time to get my overall time this story takes up, and I think it works! One more thing. I’m relying on the observation from both book and movie that as in the last one, Imladris is almost held in an eternal autumn. That is why it is only just now fading, and for one it started so early as seen in Rising Storm. I actually made this observation before PJ or whoever said it in the Extended Edition DVD. I’m so pleased with myself. ‘Nuff babbling.

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Shadows on the Snow

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It was the fourth time the sun had risen late behind the Misty Mountains since they had departed from the comfort and safety of Rivendell. Four times she had yet to bestow any warmth on the chilled bones of man or wizard. As for how the elf faired, he rode upon Falmarin with a slight smile breathing deeply of the crisp – as he deemed it – air. Wearing only a light tunic, he had not even thought yet to don his thicker cloak. Falmarin also seemed completely at ease. This drove Aragorn and Fasse to no end of frustration that the elf could not even relate to there mild discomfort, though to Fasse it was far from simply mild.

Fasse, as far as his riding, had managed to become seated enough to cling with only one hand to the swell of the saddle while the other grasped his breakfast, an apple. "Is this what you traveling lads always live on?"

Aragorn had dropped back while Legolas rode ahead. "No not always, orc meat always keeps you ticking on a cold night." He stifled a chuckle at Fasse’s aghast expression. "I’m just joking with you, Fasse," he assured as the wizard showed no signs of catching his humor. Aragorn shook his head and chuckled.

Ten minutes up the trail they met Legolas standing beside Falmarin waiting for them, his expression though was one of seriousness. "Estel if you will," he motioned for Aragorn to dismount. They stood close, it was obvious that the elf did not with Fasse to overhear. "I fear there may be trouble ahead, or rather behind."

Aragorn narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean?"

"I have seen the prints of wolves, a larger pack by the look of it, behind and before us."

"Surely they will not hinder us. Simple wolves would not dare to approach." Aragorn thought aloud.

"Unless they are not just simple wolves."

Aragorn frowned, thinking deeper into the meaning of Legolas’s findings. "You believe they are wargs?"

Legolas shrugged, "I cannot be certain. The paw prints are larger than the usual wolf."

"Wargs would not venture so close to Rivendell would they?" Aragorn had had few encounters with the ravenous beasts, and he did not relish another meeting any more than he would relish meeting a Balrog in a cage.

"Whether it be wolf or warg, they will be hunting for food for the winter." He looked to Fasse who was finishing off his breakfast, glad to be sitting stationary. "But we have less to fear if it is but a pack of wolves. Pray that they are not wargs, Aragorn. The game in this area has been sparse these last months, they will be growing desperate."

Aragorn gnawed on his bottom lip, nodding. "We will move on then, considering we have no other choice at the moment. But I urge you to keep your bow at the ready."

Mounting once more, they started off again down the path.

---

Day drew on to afternoon, but with Aragorn’s better judgement they did not stop for a meal but rode on. The sooner they were out of this forest the better. The day passed without event but their usual banter was absent. Legolas would drift from the lead to the back, his pewter eyes shifting through the darkening trees. Across his lap laid his bow, ready at any moment, yet there was no occasion for its use. So night came again, colder and more uncomfortable than the last. "I will find no sleep this night, Legolas. I will take the watch. I have a feeling we may need it." Aragorn looked out to the haunting shadows of the forest.

Legolas eyed him doubtfully at first, but then nodded. "But do not hesitate to wake me if you find need for rest."

Aragorn turned to the elf, his eyes twinkling. "When have I ever thought twice on waking you?" The elf punched him in the shoulder, then leapt from the boulder they had been seated upon before the ranger had a chance to retaliate. Legolas failed to dodge the large pinecone.

Wrapping himself in his blanket he steeled himself for a long, cold night.

---

Eyes, golden orbs of malice, peered out from the cover of the trees. Lust danced as they looked upon the sleeping companions. Winter, cold winter, would be upon them much sooner than the elves had anticipated. These would serve as enough food for many days.

Legolas woke to the horrible feeling of many razor edged knives ripping at his throat. His ears ached with the screams of his friends as they awoke to the same agony. Death came with eyes of gold flecked with red.

---

Heart pounding, Legolas lurched to a sitting position. Rare was it that the elves lost control of their dreams. But this had been a nightmare if ever he had seen one. He subconsciously cast about with his gaze for his companions. Fasse lay flat on his back with his and Legolas’s blankets wrapped around him up to his nose. Aragorn had deserted his seat at watch the minute he saw Legolas startle. "Are you alright?"

Legolas passed a hand over his eyes trying to clear his mind of the horrible vision he had witnessed. "I believe so," he heaved a breath. "Something in my dreams startled me, that is all."

The ranger observed plainly the distress in the elf’s actions. "What was it?"

Legolas’s face pinched, unconsciously a hand reached up to rub his throat. "I’d rather not talk about it right now," he said quietly, thoughtfully. He heaved a breath, pushing his thoughts aside for a moment. "Now that I am up, why don’t you take some rest. Dreams will not visit me tonight, at least any that I wish to see." The elf pushed past the ranger, not waiting for a confirmation. Aragorn watched the elf swing into a tree, disappearing into the forest canopy. He lay himself down in the place Legolas had pre-warmed; thinking of what might have spooked his friend so. In good time, if Legolas felt the need, he would know. But it did not take the edge off of his curiosity, or his concern.

---

Fasse groaned, stretching his sore muscles. For the past days he had been walking bow-legged and his temper had been fouler than usual, giving Legolas and Aragorn all the more cause not to trouble him with their own worries. As long as they kept a sharp eye out, the wizard would be fine.

"How much farther?" bemoaned the wizard as once again Nienna lurched to a fast walk.

"A few more days and we’ll be in what used to be the lands of Eregion, but," Aragorn continued at the look of hope in Fasse’s face, "we will not be stopping there. At least we will do everything not to."

"Oh bother." Fasse huddled in his blanket atop of Nienna, wallowing in his misery. He was sore, he was cold and his face was numb, and he was hungry, all this just to get to Rohan? Could they just, take a boat, or something else? Gandalf had Gwaihir to cart him around, why couldn’t he have some kind of expedient transportation other than a blasted horse. It just wasn’t fair.

Legolas brought up the rear that day, and he was the first to feel the sting of cold ice crystals pricking his face. He stopped then trying to decide whether it had been a figment of his imagination. Falmarin pranced beneath him feeling his riders tension. "Aragorn."

Ahead, with Ralamir, Nienna and Fasse, Aragorn had also come to a halt. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I pray it isn’t." Oddly enough though they waited, no more of the phantom snow flakes fell. Uneasy, the three companions continued, subconsciously looking to the greying sky. That day their pace was speedier than the previous day’s, switching between a fast walk, to an easy trot, and at time to a careful lope. By this pacing, they covered much more ground than previously planned. In all their hearts the threatening cold spurred them to greater speeds, also temporarily causing them to forget the threat of the forest beasts about them.

It was that night though when the danger of the beasts forced itself upon the travelers. Weary and numb, they set up a small camp in the dark of the moonless night. Legolas gathered plenty of dry timber for a small fire. After a meager bite of rations, Fasse and Aragorn collapsed near the fire, succumbing to fitful sleep.

Though the weather had yet to effect him, Legolas could tell that the temperature was dropping, quickly. Sitting with his back to the fire so the bright light would not effect his vision in the dark, he settled into a state of careful alertness where every sound and movement was noted and analyzed. Unbidden, his dream came back to him, haunting his thoughts as he looked into the starkness of the forest.

Those yellow and orange eyes boring into him had burned a place on his memory. They seemed to leap and burst with flames. Abruptly the eyes changed before him, forming one, single eye. The pupil stretched, creating a long, vertical oval as of a cat’s eye. From it’s center leapt malice and struck despair in his heart, though he knew not why.

There was a soft snap. Legolas’s eyes flew open. He had not even realized he had shut them.

Eyes, there were eyes, golden orbs staring from the darkness of the trees.

---

Aragorn didn’t know what had woken him, but he knew that he had left the warm cocoon of sleep behind. Somewhat grouchily, he raised himself on his elbows, wincing as the cold air struck his face full on. Then he saw Legolas crouching rigidly, seemingly frozen in place. The elf was staring out into the night, his silver eyes wide in the darkness catching the dim light of the slowly dwindling fire. Slowly, as not to startle him, Aragorn inched towards the elven prince. "Legolas, are you…" It was then that he as well saw the glittering lights of the eyes.

"Put another log on the fire, but do not make any sudden moves." Legolas warned softly, his lips hardly moving. Doing as he was bid, Aragorn stirred the bright coals, poking life into the flames. The eyes seemed to draw back from the burst of the sudden flare of embers. "Wake Fasse as quietly as you can." Aragorn crept to the slumbering wizards side, touching his arm lightly. Fasse grumbled and rolled over. Frowning, Aragorn shook the Istar harder. One eye popped open, glaring at the ranger. "What you want?" was what Aragorn could decipher from the mostly unintelligible grunts.

"I need you to be very quiet, and not to make any sudden moves," he instructed in a level conversational tone.

Fasse’s eyes darted about their surroundings but did as he was told. "Great gobs of yrch spit!" he hissed when he saw the many eyes surrounding them.

"Exactly my thoughts." Out of the corner of his eye he watched Legolas stand slowly bringing the anxious horses closer into the circle. Nienna’s eyes were wide with fright, her whole body quivered as her equine senses blared at her to flee. Ralamir and Falmarin were not much better off. Gorban seemed to be dealing with the impending danger the best of the four horses. He stomped and tossed his head, waggling his ears almost as if he was glaring out at the blood thirsty beasts.

Legolas sidled up beside Aragorn beside the light of the fire. "They’re wargs Aragorn, hungry ones at that."

"I don’t believe I ever met one that isn’t hungry," the ranger commented dully. "I think we’re just going to have to wait it out until day light. Perhaps they’ll back off before then."

Legolas nodded, looking out at the eyes. He could not shake the vision he had had of the morphing of the eyes into one. It haunted him terribly. "I had a dream of the beasts last night."

"Is that what woke you?" Aragorn watched his friend closely.

The elf pursed his lips, but nodded. He shook himself, "I just hope what I saw is not a foretelling of the future." Before inquiring minds could ask further questions he brought the conversation back to the present. "It is odd. I did not think wargs traveled in such large packs."

"They don’t if I’m not mistaken," Fasse put in, eyeing the glittering orbs nervously. "Unless they know something about the coming days that we do not."

Aragorn narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean?"

Fasse swallowed hard. "What I mean is that perhaps the elven folk were wrong about their weather predictions, if you get my drift." He coughed nervously, "No pun intended of course."

Legolas looked to Aragorn, pondering and idea before speaking what he knew the ranger was thinking as well. "What about the option of going back to Rivendell?"

Shaking his head, Aragorn scowled deeper casting another look into the forest. "I fear that will get us nowhere. As it is we are but a hard two and a half day ride from breaking from these woods. By turning back we would only give the beasts more time to gain their courage and attack – and I do promise you, if I know one scrap about wargs, then they will eventually attack."

Legolas nudged Aragorn in the ribs. "You’re doing nothing to help matters by telling horror stories."

For comfort sake they continued in a quiet stream of small talk, their eyes rarely resting on each other but constantly watching the eyes that would draw closer until Legolas could make out the huge silhouetted bodies. Drawing nearer, then they would leap back when Aragorn stirred the lulling fire back to vibrant life. Legolas would occasionally stand and do his best to calm the horses’ fear. It was a welcomed sight when the first dim glow tinged the grey sky. Pair by pair, the eyes would blinked out, disappearing as if they had been ghosts of their imaginations. But when the horses had at last stilled their prancing, Aragorn found the evidence, through crushed leaves and the like, that the wargs had not been but phantoms of their nightmares.

Sparing no time for a meal, they rolled their bedding and secured it to Gorban. It was as Legolas mounted Falmarin that he felt, and saw it, and knew that this was not but a passing fall. Snow, white and feathery, drifted from bruised clouds. "We must move, and quickly. If we can break from these trees we may have chance yet to make it Eregion." Aragorn called from the head of the small procession. Ralamir broke into a lope, feeling his rider’s urgency. The beasts were near, the horse could sense them all that day, running tirelessly behind them, just in the shadow of the trees. The snow had begun to fall in earnest, covering the ground in a quickly thickening blanket. The horses’ breath crystallized on their muzzles as they weaved between the trees. From early morning to the departing of the hidden sun they paced themselves as fast as they dared, but the wargs were ever following. At times Legolas would catch a glimpse of ragged hair hanging from lean bodies, or catch the scent of their soiled coats.

Then came the dreaded hour when they could travel no more and as before the glittering eyes of malice closed about them, closer Legolas thought than the previous night. All that night the fire burned bright. It was their one sure protection from the wild beasts. Again, they lay awake, watching and gauging the creatures actions. Fasse did find some sleep that night, laying close to the fire with Aragorn and Legolas crouched on either side of him. He assumed that he was safe as he would ever be.

Much to their dismay the snow continued to fall all through the night and into the next morning. The eyes blinked out, receding with the fading shadows, and as the previous day they took to the saddle as soon as was safe. This second day of their flight was much more trying than the last. The snow had seemed to let loose upon them, swirling between the shedding branches of the trees hiding obstacles that would rear before them, forcing the horses to make drastic leaps and swerves. With Aragorn at the front leading Nienna, Legolas rode beside Fasse, balancing and holding the unstable wizard upon the mare at those times when but instinct would keep one astride.

And so the day continued with the beasts loping after their pray, intent on their one goal. Tonight, tonight they would feast and bare back to their dwelling flesh, sufficient for many frigid nights.