-Shadows on the Snow-

By: Bill the Pony

Rating: PG-13 (violence)

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.

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Shadows on the Snow

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Raging fire leapt from the roof of the inn. Men had already assembled, passing heavy wooden buckets down a single file line, doing all they could to save the brittle building.

Legolas took in the commotion outside the inn. Those who were not helping milled about a good ways away from the danger of the flames. It seemed the whole town had converged to this point. His heart was in his throat when a cry went up as the roof of the small stables caved in. But he need not have feared for at that moment he heard a familiar whinny, followed by an unmistakable braying.

"Arson fire…found him…taken away…stranger…" Legolas whirled, his keen hearing picking up the muttered gossip spreading like a plague amongst the towns folk. Deep in the pit of his stomach he already knew who it was the people spoke of, though he wished to deny it.

"Who caught him?" questioned a curious bystander.

"Nevens, the horsetrader, claimed he saw the stranger leave the inn a few moments before the fire broke out all of a sudden. He was taken to the old manor where the hearings used to be held…"

Legolas needed to hear no more. "Falmarin, take Gorban and find Fasse. Wait for us outside the town," he whispered hastily in elvish. Obediently, the grey nickered softly, reluctantly doing as he was bid. At a word the black horse Legolas still sat astride, pushed from the crowd, plunging back down the muddied streets.

---

"If you would but listen to me…"

"Silence!" Shouted the rotund man seated stiffly behind the desk. His jowls quivered in the effort of raising his voice. By his clothing and prestigious environment, Aragorn guessed him to be what would loosely be described as a ‘judge’. Aragorn clinched his fists in their tight bonds with barely constrained aggravation. If only they would allow him to speak, then this whole unneeded mistake would be set clear! Arms crossed, with a sickeningly smug expression, the man who had become known as Nevens, stood a few feet to the right of the man behind the desk. The ‘judge’ again bent over his paperwork, pushing his spectacles higher upon his short, puggish nose. The crinkle of paper, and the scratch of a split-tipped feather was all that was to be heard.

Aragorn was watching Nevens though. The man had an air of, could you say, slyness, about him. He also seemed to be waiting for something. Ever so often, the small man would cast an anticipating look at the door, his hands working eagerly grasping his forearms. What the greedy little man waited for, Aragorn wasn’t sure, and wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. It was obvious, Nevens was up to something. And Aragorn was not sure it was entirely legal.

Slowly the judge/clerk looked up from his slow scrawling writing, eyeing the ranger from foot to toe. He grunted, "So, you’ve been charged with arson, have you?" As Aragorn opened his mouth to respond, the fat man thrust out a hand, "Don’t answer that, it is not in your rights."

Aragorn balled his fists, grinding his teeth. He couldn’t suppress the sound of frustration that boiled in his throat. They did not need this delay, it would only allow the winter to take more control over the land. Legolas was going to kill him.

Speaking of Legolas, at that very moment there was a great bang which echoed through the hollow confines of the manor, followed by a raised shout cut short by a curt growl in elvish. Another small man – small men seemed to be abundant in this settlement – bustled in the door, clambering and jawing about something unintelligible. The poor man had hardly gotten the understandable word, "Someone" out, before a definitely taller, and more regal figure pushed the man aside.

"What is this about?"

Aragorn groaned. He would have slapped himself if his hands were free. "Great entrance," he mumbled.

Legolas’s sudden appearance actually startled the fat judge/clerk to a sad excuse for standing. Aragorn had begun to wonder if the man was even capable of such movement. "What is this?" he shouted, his jowls quivering in barely constrained rage at the unplanned interruption. "Who let you in?"

"It’s him!" Nevens cried all at once, pouncing forward towards Legolas, whose features were still obscured by his hood. The horsetrader needed no facial features to distinguish if this was whom he had wished to lure into his greedy clutches. The elf had enough bearing and noble air to him to recognize from a league off. "He stole my horse!"

Legolas tried hard not to gape. "I paid you fairly for the beast. More than it was worth in fact."

"You tricked me," glowered the horsetrader.

"Then that was by your own folly."

"Enough!" screamed the clerk, slamming his meaty fist against the desktop like a mallet. "Guards!" he howled to the two shabbily uniformed men flanking Aragorn. Two more positioned themselves behind Legolas, seizing his wrists. It was not a wise move. The two guards found themselves taking an inadvertent nap flat out on the hard floor. But the elf had not choice but to submit when a knife was placed dangerously close to Aragorn’s neck.

Matters only got worse when Legolas’s hood was thrown back, revealing his race. "An elf!" cried Nevens. "I should have known. Only they would be so treacherous and deceitful."

Unfortunately for Legolas, it seemed that his race would justify a solid strike to the side of his head, more out of surprise on the guard’s part. Legolas suppressed a wince, blinking away the blood that slowly oozed from the split skin. The blow had been enough to send him stumbling, he would have fallen if not for the firm hold of the men.

Nevens lips twisted into a sneer as his scheme turned out for the better. "My good Master Ebner, I have seen these two strangers mingling together. The man surely must be guilty if he takes company with this creature. You hardly need the evidence that he was the last one seen departing the Lonely Traveler before the fire." Nevens voice was low and deceitfully convincing. "And the elf for that matter is a danger to our towns folk." Then he added, "Not to mention he swindled me out of a horse."

Ebner’s fists clinched convulsively on the arms of his chair. His small, beady eyes darted from one face to the other. Apparently the pressure was too much for him. "Nevens, you know more of this than I. Why don’t you decide the outcome?"

The horsetrader bowed graciously, placing a hand over his heart. "Your faith is not misplaced. I will deal with this incident swiftly, and thoroughly." Ebner nodded, adding three more chins to his previous two.

This did not bode well, for either Aragorn, or Legolas.

---

Fasse hadn’t a clue of what to do now. He was alone in a town of potentially hostile nature and he didn’t even have a scrap of food. That was all with…

Without warning, something grabbed the back of his cloak, dragging him away from the crowd before he could utter even a terrified whimper. Just as his mind cleared enough to struggle, the iron grip released him. He fell with a squelch into the mud, instinctively throwing his hands over his head in a defensive gesture. Minutes ticked past before he peeped between his arms. Two gangly ears flopped into view, followed by a chiding snort. "Heh," Fasse chuckled nervously in embarrassment. Both Falmarin and Gorban stared down at him, somewhat confused at the wizard’s behavior. "Well it would be you two who would come pull me out of the muck and drop me in some more."

Unspoken, Fasse really was quite relieved that he was now accompanied by some familiar faces – though equine may they be. Now, whether it would do him any good besides psychological comfort was undetermined. With the help of Gorban’s ears, he managed to pull himself up, or should he say, Gorban managed to pull him up. "I do say, I’m not quite rightly sure what we should do next." He unsuccessfully tried to scrape the mud off himself. "Deary, with Strider gone and the elf off somewhere else – no doubt in the very heart of this mess – I’m quite at loss." Fasse blew a frustrated sigh when his fretting accomplished nothing but smearing mud all over his clothing. "I wasn’t made to do all this sneaking about."

Falmarin gave a deep-throated nicker, tossing his head. Fasse glared at the horse, waving his hands. "I know, I know, you beast. Of course we’re going to rescue them. By the Valar," he moaned, "you think I would leave them to be tormented, or worse." The grey snorted. "You have no faith in me! Didn’t I go back for them in Dunland when they had gone and got themselves all in a tangle, just like this time I might add?"

Fasse grasped his staff, trying his best to pull himself up into as much of a heroic posture as he could muster. "Might as well not put it off." He waggled a finger at the donkey and the horse, "And I even have an idea of how to help them."

---

The cell had definitely not been constructed for the comfort of its inhabitants, but Legolas could truthfully say it was much more ‘pleasant’ than his stay in the Dunlands prisons. For one, he thought wryly, his back hadn’t been whipped raw. "Nice accommodations they’ve set us up with." Legolas heard Aragorn say from the cell next to him. The stone wall kept them from seeing each other, but the wall facing out was made of heavy iron bars, allowing them to hear each other clearly.

Aragorn heard Legolas grunt a reply that was for the most part unintelligible. "Really was a wonderful entrance you made back there," he mused.

Grunt.

The ranger hated sitting here, twiddling his thumbs, unable to do anything. It was all to odd to think that his death would come from the hand of such a despicable, and pathetic excuse for a man such as Nevens, a horsetrader. Then an abstract thought struck him. "Legolas, what do you suppose Nevens’ motive was in accusing me of setting fire to that inn?"

He heard another groan, "Enlighten me, Strider."

Aragorn ignored the heavy sarcasm. "Legolas, he said you stole a horse from him. What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Such as, what did you do? Did you do anything that would rile him, or make his hatred for elves increase?"

Legolas was quiet for a moment, running over the words and actions that had taken place, thinking on them as if through the horsetrader’s eyes.

The Eregion man pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Twelve? Surely you do not take me for a clueless horsetrader. Look at the beast’s chest, it is as broad as a beer keg!"

"Horsetraders are not the sort that like to give good deals, as much as they say it is their goal. Their objective is to come out ahead, and you, in a sense, ‘swindled’ him out of that. Quite severely I might add." Aragorn surmised after Legolas had finished. "You being an elf only added insult to injury. I think the hatred for your race has only festered over years of ignorance and division from contact with other peoples."

Legolas shrugged on his side of the wall. Though it did him no good in the long run, knowing at least why someone hated you – in a vague sense – did take the bite off, a bit. Aragorn did not help matters by insisting to continue his wondering.

"Do you think that Nevens was trying to get back at you by luring you here with me?"

Legolas groaned, his head throbbed where he had been ungraciously clubbed. The distracting ache in his shoulder did not help matters. "Strider, I really don’t know. But if you ask me, it just doesn’t sound plausible that this, Nevens, would go through this much trouble just to get back at me." The elf nursed the side of his head with his palm. "There’s probably something in it for him. Maybe favor from the higher ups of the town." He sighed, "I really don’t know, and knowing won’t help matters much, I think."

---

It was not a wizard’s usual duty to perform incognito acts of daring do. Neither was it usual for a wizard to perform incognito acts of daring do with a horse and a donkey breathing over his shoulder. His situation would only worsen when he reached the manor where Fasse had over heard that now two criminal strangers were locked in its prison. Fasse still wondered abstractly why a manor, as the one he looked upon, would sport a prison to dirty it. No wonder, he thought dully, of course he would have to rescue the two fiends again.