Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

To Resist both Wind and Tide	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4377 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do nto own Lord of the Rings and no money is made from this story, just fro fun.Characters and settings created by JRR Tolkien.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter Seven: Dire Deception Divulged

The sun was high and the wind still; the lush grasslands an unending expanse of dark emerald blades, motionless, exultant in the golden light. Away past the limits of keenest sight stretched the plains, empty and imbued with a desolate peace that inspired the mind to introspection, the heart to wander within its own chambered depths. Lured by the magnificent isolation, the magnitude and grandeur of this remote and wild world, the soul took flight and soared beyond the bounds of blood and bone, the cloudless sky of brilliant blue, the viridian fields. How great a wonder was this earth, needing no living thing beyond these verdant, voiceless works of the Goddess' art to be superb, exceeding any design of human hands or even elvish skill. How strange a thing, to appreciate a place he must leave some day, a place his kind were meant to inherit only to abandon at the end of life, the spirit fleeing this glorious world forever, the body becoming naught but another element of the soil that fed these grasses.

So thought Aragorn as he gazed out toward the horizon, strolling in a mellow fugue beside the sylvan mare to give her rest from the burden of his weight. He was not alone, the Wood Elf walking just ahead of him and the company of Selwyn's horsemen strewn out in a loose arc about them, the men of Rohan also afoot to ease their chargers' journey. The only silence was that created by ignoring the tread of so many feet, the thud and thump of so many hooves, the clink and creaking of tack and weapons, the muttering of the men and the snuffling of the horses. Aragorn shut it all out effortlessly, a skill developed long ago in his boyhood under the tutelage of Lord Elrond, a skill he had never appreciated so fully until this day.

For in reality the day was broiling under the summer sun, Anor at her golden zenith and blasting the land with breath hot enough to rival a dragon's. That glorious azure sky looked faded, washed out under the influence of so much glaring light. The air was heavy with moisture and hard to breathe, the heat drawing off unseen vapour from the Anduin's sluggish surface now so far away. It was true no beasts chattered, no birds sang, but insects filled the void with their whirring, buzzing noises: bees droning through the clover, cicadas rattling in their carapaces. As for the small band of horsemen crossing this vast and empty place, they languished in misery beneath cloaks and armour and helms, sweating, skin itchy and beards damp. Their words did not extoll the beauty of their lands but more readily cursed the heat, the humidity, and the insects prone to bite.

The only ones not over-dressed were Aragorn and Legolas, yet they suffered in a different way. Aragorn felt the heat beating down upon his torso and somewhere in the practical part of his mind knew he would be burned red by sundown, if he wasn't already. Even Legolas' skin was becoming rosy and the tips of his ears were already blistering. He was not going to be a contented, happy Wood Elf when the group finally stopped for the night. That was unfortunate, for it was not Legolas' fault that he was so exposed but he was the one who would surely be burnt the worst of all. Aragorn wished he'd had time to search for athelas in Fangorn, thinking a cool infusion sponged over the archer's skin would provide relief.

Aragorn pushed these ideas away for imagining bathing Legolas' svelte physique was not the way to maintain detachment, and he was determined to remain in his mental seclusion as long as possible, an interval delimited by the amount of time the group remained dismounted. Once another riding period began, Aragorn would end up perched behind his sylvan friend as before, though he had come near to begging to have the forward seat on the mare's back. Pride forbade it and he was left to appreciate a new set of environmental factors, for while the erotic dream had not repeated, it had left an apparently indelible mark on the Man's libido.

Almost immediately he would become intensely aware of the smooth and supple warmth of the archer's waist beneath his palms, the radiant beauty of Legolas' hair, the very smell of him. He would become thoroughly distracted by the proximity os his crotch to Legolas' arse; every step Tuilelindô took would rock the firm rump against him and vice versa, the result of this pleasing friction being an intractable erection that the ellon seemed to find rather amusing. Numerous were the jokes he'd already uttered, thankfully in Sindarin and too softly to be overheard by the others. The man was beginning to tire of being asked if he was having a hard time remaining seated, whether his muscles were stiffening up under the strain of constant riding, whether he was familiar with riding from behind and did he prefer that position, and so on. Aragorn was dreading the moment when he would have to face Legolas alone in their tent.

As for Legolas, he observed the Man with interest and a benignly possessive pride, deciding Aragorn's quietude was nearly the equivalent of elvish reverie. Perhaps, when they mounted up again, he would let Aragorn sit in front and allow him to experience the thrill of knowing his effect on Legolas was at least as powerful as Legolas' effect on him. To refrain from actively encouraging that obvious interest, the archer had been forced to resort to silly attempts at humour, which remained in the realm of the juvenile he was forced to admit. It was just too difficult to come up with anything sophisticated and mature when there was a hugely hard penis rubbing against his rear end every second. Keeping his own rising interest hidden under the meagre loin cloth without making his struggle evident to everyone around them was a seriously distressing task. Still, he was anticipating the privacy the night would accord them with great relish.

"Mount up!" called Selwyn loudly and his men hastened to obey. Everyone was eager to reach their destination and get the trial over with. The Sheriff scrutinised his troop sharply; the Wood Elf was having a detrimental impact upon discipline, making his soldiers uneasy, argumentative, and uncharacteristically skittish. He almost wished for a band of Orcs to hunt down so to get their minds off the prisoners. This was the second day of the journey and tension was building, mostly because of the elf's disturbing behaviour at night. Apparently, he didn't sleep and had startled his guard by popping out of the tent in the deep of darkness to ask for water.

At least there was no repeat of the unnervingly amorous grunts and groans from Thorongil. Inconsiderate, that, him being the only one with a partner.

Instead, it had been the elf, according to the titillated guard, who'd moaned oh so softly through Ithil's hours, the sounds interwoven with an eery, ethereal song. The man swore he had not peeked and Selwyn believed him, for the sylvan was not likely to have taken such an invasion of privacy quietly.

The Sheriff's attention was drawn to the subject of his musing, Legolas' and Thorongil's voices slightly raised as the two bickered about something, still on the ground beside the horse. He nudged heel to side and clicked his tongue and his charger glided closer. "What is amiss? We need to move on a bit; there's a spring I want to reach before nightfall. There's a good camp there with trees and a small lake of clean water." He offered them a guarded smile, hoping to hurry things along without sounding too demanding. Since the elf's fearful outburst, Selwyn had decided not to do anything to antagonise him, finding he was not inclined to make this fair creature bear the responsibility for the crimes others of his kind might have committed. It wasn't right; he had never demanded justice so severe from any man accused of wrong.

"Everything is fine," insisted Thorongil briskly, sporting a frantic smile, his features pinched up in an expression of acute embarrassment. "We will be ready in a moment." His desire to be left alone could not be more evident.

"Just get on her, Kalrô," fussed Legolas. "You may take the forward position this time."

"I've reconsidered; I do not want the forward position. Let us continue as we were; that has worked just fine."

"She is my horse and I want the rear position this trip." Legolas was not pleased, having realised Kalrô must have figured out why he was so eager for the switch now when before he had denied the man's request.

"Why? She only obeys you anyway." Aragorn felt his face growing warm and had no doubt his cheeks were aflame. Why wouldn't Selwyn go back to the head of the ranks and let them sort this out?

"I do not need to be in front to communicate with her," argued Legolas. "Besides, she has grown to trust you."

Selwyn watched this with amusement, eyes moving from one to the other as the exchange continued. If this was not a lover's quarrel, he didn't know the meaning of the terms. A smile tried to overtake his stern expression and he fought it, failing when Thorongil glanced in his direction, misery in his eyes. "Get on the horse, Thorongil," he said, "or I'll trade with you, if you prefer. You may ride my stallion and I'll ride behind your…friend."

"No!" Man and Elf shouted together and scowled at each other.

"Get up, Kalrô," hissed the Wood Elf, shoving him a bit.

"I am!" barked Aragorn, glaring as he shoved back. "Stand aside; I do not need help." He hauled himself onto Tuilelindô's withers and reached a hand down to Legolas, but the ellon leapt unaided behind him, sidling close and wrapping his arms about the man's chest. Aragorn sighed in resignation as Legolas' chin came to rest atop his shoulder.

"There, that wasn't so hard after all," whispered Legolas, a devilish light in his eyes when the Man turned and peered at him.

"Finally," laughed Selwyn. He led off but did not depart from the mare's side, choosing instead to torment Thorongil a little. "He is rather demanding, yes?" The man opened his mouth to retort but Legolas beat him to it.

"I am, in fact, being quite accommodating," he said, the words glazed with smug satisfaction.

"How much longer till we reach this camp site?" Aragorn decided a change of topic was in order.

"Not long; the horses can manage a steady trot for the distance left. We've made excellent progress thus far," the Sheriff said, deciding to be merciful.

"And these men we seek," Legolas said, "can you know for certain they are where you expect to find them? Have you no means to send a message there and ensure they await us?"

"They would not leave the Wold without letting me know it," answered Selwyn. "I've had no word of such; they will be there." The elf was certainly eager to begin his trial, a fact the Sheriff found suspicious. Was he planning some clever bit of magic to mask the truth? Was it possible to so ensorcel a man as to command his speech? Selwyn's mirthful mood was spoiled by these worries and abruptly he cantered away, calling orders for an increase in speed to a steady jog.

"Elbereth, I thought he'd never go," grumbled Aragorn, shifting to try and gain a little distance from Legolas' encircling embrace. Or rather, from the sensation of tight little nipples pressing into his bare back. Best to quench this fire while it is yet a spark. "Mellon, isn't it too hot for such close contact?" he suggested as diplomatically as possible and felt the change in Legolas' mood through his body. Where he had been relaxed, leaning his full weight against Aragorn, now he sat up and scooted back, removed his hold completely.

"I see," Legolas complained. "Your reaction is involuntary and at odds with your true nature, then. Is there someone else or is it because I'm a Wood Elf?"

"Nay, I don't…you are very enticing, but we mustn't, Legolas."

"Because I am elf-kind and you are human?"

"Yes." There was a moment of silence filled with the archer's dour disappointment and he issued a quiet sigh. Aragorn felt terrible. "I am sorry; I did not mean to mislead you. It is difficult to control myself when…"

"No need to say more, please," Legolas pleaded and slipped from the mare's back, loping along beside her so that he was level with her head. He raised a hand and gathered the strands of her mane within his grasp as he ran.

"Ai!" Aragorn was shocked, for Legolas had only just recovered his health, and looked around to see if any of the men had noticed this development. As yet they appeared ignorant, so he bent low over Tuilelindô's neck. "Legolas, this is not meet. Please, she is your horse. If one of us must go afoot, it should be me."

"How ridiculous," snorted Legolas. "You could not keep up, echil, and I have no wish to inspire sensations which you find repugnant."

"Ai Valar," groaned Aragorn. "I do not find them repugnant, just a bit inappropriate. Mellon, I meant no offence, but we have this trial to get through and then you and I will part company. As friends, I hope."

"What of the bond of life over death? Is this meaningless to you?"

"Of course not, I will cherish that unique connection till the end of my days."

"Ah." 'Cherish', what can this word mean to him if it includes rejection of that very bond?

"What? Legolas, how can you think we would become more than friends when we hardly know anything about one another?"

"On the contrary, we know quite a lot, all the important things, principally that you have no desire to deepen the bond we enjoined. So be it! I am not so desperate that I will fade because you say no, echil. Now, since the matter is settled, may we stop discussing it?" Legolas cast a disparaging glare over his shoulder.

"Fine. Since we have finished discussing it, will you get on the horse now? If Selwyn or his men see you running, it might be misinterpreted as an attempt to escape." Though his words were clipped and terse, a horrible sense of loss overtook Aragorn's heart. Never had he felt so empty and he could not shake the idea that he had just wilfully declined what would have been the most fulfilling relationship of his life. But that life is short while his will span time beyond counting. I cannot subject him to eternal grieving merely to satisfy my own longing.

"As you wish; wouldn't want to give the mortals a scare like that." The sarcastic response was followed by Legolas' light vault onto Tuilelindô's back.

So attuned were elf and horse that he rode without need to steady his seat by holding to Aragorn. There was absolutely no point of contact between their bodies and this he found profoundly depressing. For an instant he saw his life wind out before his eyes, a lonely existence of service and sacrifice, lacking any heart within which to shelter. A heavy sigh exhaled from this despondent vision and he immediately took hold of himself, banishing the self-pitying mood. Worse than this man's refusal he had already survived. He breathed deeply of the clean, fresh air, not minding the high moisture content at all, and burst into song, choosing a hymn to the Lady Arien and her glorious charge.

So joyous was this song that all spirits were lifted and the men's dissatisfaction diminished. The journey progressed with less grumbling and grousing, but the soldiers could not credit their prisoner with the change and underneath their harmonious accord lurked a superstitious unwillingness to trust their positive reactions.
The spring-fed meadow was all Selwyn had promised and more, and as the day waned so did the stifling heat and humidity. The place was a cool refuge from the sun-baked plains, shaded by a copse of willows. This deep into the horse-lords' realm, there was little danger of Orcs or other enemies and the land radiated peace and plenty. The men of Rohan needed no urging to throw off their gear and dive into the small lake for a swim; the mood of the camp soon assumed a jovial air. Legolas, eager to clean himself and especially his hair, also waded into the shallows, but remained apart from the soldiers and their raucous rough-housing. Aragorn joined the swimming, but positioned himself where he could keep watch over Legolas, fearing trouble should the Rohirrim get too close.

Of course, the trouble would be due to his desire to prevent anyone else having Legolas when he could not, but this was not something the Man could admit to himself. And when trouble arose, it was Aragorn who caused it.

Legolas finished his wash and retreated to a spot in the last rays of the setting sun to dry himself and work the tangles from his dripping hair. Though his heart was heavy he ignored its ponderous weight and focused on the beauty of the little dell, thinking it was much like a favoured spot back home, a place where he and his Naneth would go in his childhood days. There they could enjoy the open sunlight, gathering flowers in spring, watching ducks and their ducklings paddle about, fishing for tadpoles and silvery minnows with a gossamer net. Once he fell in, too intent upon capturing a particularly stunning fish with golden scales to be careful, and his mother pulled him out soaked through, laughing, saying she had never caught so large a fish before. The memory made him smile and Legolas once again found the means to express his feelings through song.

Aragorn turned, recognising this as a common children's counting song, one he had learned at his mother's knee, too. Pleased to note Legolas' whimsical disposition, he was about to join in when he realised the soldiers had ceased their splashing to listen. The gaiety of the playful afternoon lapsed into a gentler, genial brand of nostalgia and the men began leaving the lake, quietly drying off and donning pants and shirts, began a slow, cautious convergence on the Wood Elf's location. At first alarmed, Aragorn hastily got out of the water and into his trousers, still wet as an otter, but even as he trotted to get between Legolas and this mass of men they started settling on the ground, a healthy distance separating them from the Wood Elf. He slowed, catching Selwyn's eye who apparently had the same idea as he. The Sheriff motioned him closer and the man went, casting a glance to Legolas, who remained reposed in the moss, seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having.

"This singing, it is no threat to my people is it?" asked Selwyn, feeling the lure of the fair voice as much as the rest of the horsemen.

"Nay, it is a child's melody. Any magic in it is composed of the countless innocent voices who have sung it through the Ages," Aragorn smiled. "The language is his own, but the tune must be universal, for all of us are now thinking back on those days of sweet simplicity when the world was defined by the security of a mother's love."

"Aye," Selwyn nodded, unable to prevent smiling either. He cocked his head to the side and studied Thorongil. "I understand your attraction to the elf," he said. "The quarrel is settled?"

"It is," Aragorn could not hide the regret in his heart and saw the Sheriff's bewildered curiosity. "It is wrong for a mortal to engage the heart of an immortal; I have made him know we will not remain together once this is all settled."

"I see," Selwyn's brows rose. "We, too, deem such a relationship immoral, but your reasons could not be the same as ours. Even so, I wonder if he will let you go."

"There is no sorcery involved," sighed Aragorn wearily. He was about to elaborate in hopes of convincing the Sheriff when several low and frightened voices reached his ears. Both men turned to find that one of the horsemen had approached Legolas, flouting the admonishing cries of his cronies to offer the nearly naked elf his cloak. Aragorn was off in a flash, Selwyn at his heels.
"…doesn't seem right. Take it and welcome; I have clothing aplenty and you have none," the man was saying. One of the guards assigned to watch over the prisoners through the night, it was he who had reported hearing the elf's quiet expressions of passion. Younger than the others, he was perhaps more impressionable, or less cynical, and had failed to report to Selwyn the conversation he and Legolas had shared along with the water. Now, he was less than convinced the Wood ELf was capable of the cold-blooded deeds of which he'd been accused.

"My thanks, Caedmon." Legolas smiled as he accepted the cloak. It was not so fine as others he had owned, but given with genuine felicity he could not ignore. "I would rather have your bow, for a short time only and only for hunting, but the cape is much appreciated." To prove it, Legolas cast it about him, by habit tossing it over his right shoulder and under his left arm so that he clasped it at the sternum, leaving his arms freedom to draw a weapon he did not have. He gathered the trailing edge of the cape, made with it a sweeping bow to his benefactor.

"Suits you," Caedmon laughed, folding his arms over his chest. "You know I cannot let you…"

"What is going on here?" demanded Aragorn, placing himself firmly in the space between them, fiery eyes ricocheting from Legolas to the guard and back.

"Nothing," said Legolas calmly, "as you can see. We are talking."

"Caedmon! Get away from him; he seeks a new target for his seductive sorcery," Selwyn ordered in anxious tones, fearing he was already too late. Thorongil's admission of his efforts to resist the elf's allure convinced him of Legolas' powers. While that did not necessarily imply his guilt in the other issue, trying to snare another unsuspecting admirer was not promising.

"Aye, sir," the guard paled as he considered this warning and glanced warily at Legolas. He saw there the elf's exasperated anger and surprised himself by deciding to challenge his superior. "Sir, I do not feel any sort of amorous desire. We are just friendly together in the common way of comrades in arms."

"That is almost exactly what Thorongil claimed at first, yet today admitted the relationship was more serious," Selwyn pointed out. "This is the subtlety of the enchantment; he makes you like him first. Even I have felt that pull." The more Selwyn thought about it, the more reasonable this notion seemed. Even one so mighty as Thorongil was susceptible to the comely elf.

"Has it ever occurred to you," snapped Legolas, "that I actually am a likeable person?"

"However gullible you may deem these men, do not treat me like a fool, Legolas," growled Aragorn. "This Caedmon obviously finds you more than friendly. What are you trying to accomplish?" The idea that perhaps the ellon meant to incite his jealousy crossed his mind, but he failed to see that his jealousy was his own responsibility.

"Nay, I…" Caedmon's rebuttal was over-ridden by the elf's furious eruption.

"I am trying to show these men that I am not someone to fear. What are you doing, discussing our private affairs with that Sheriff?" He jabbed a forefinger in Selwyn's direction. "You have given him a new angle on his fixation with magical spells."

By now the rest of the soldiers were on their feet, crowding closer. "It's the singing," one shouted out, making the warding sign and backing away.

"He's weaving the spells with music!" exclaimed another.

"Silence him!" several men clamoured at once. "Gag him!" and the others took up the demand.

"Quiet! Quiet down, all of you!" bellowed Selwyn. He scowled at his troop in irritation and transferred this expression to Legolas as he addressed Thorongil. "They have a valid point; he's always singing."

"Elves of every kind are forever singing," argued Aragorn, sorry he'd said anything to Selwyn about his feelings for Legolas.

"Song is the first of all languages," said the archer. "Before anything else existed, the Music of the Ainur described all we see and much we still do not. From it, Iluvatar distilled the world, its speaking peoples, and all its lesser living things. To accuse me of perverting that most holy of gifts given to the First-born, that of expressing the true leanings of the soul through song, is more despicable than the killing laid at my feet."

"We know nothing of this Music," scoffed Selwyn. "Iluvatar made the Powers, the Powers crafted Arda to His design. Seems yours is a likely tale invented to fit your immediate need. If you are innocent of this charge, you will not object to a little insurance for our benefit." The Sheriff turned to Thorongil, a motion of his chin indicating Legolas. "Gag him," said he and walked away, herding his men along. "Set camp and build fire. Caedmon, Beldon see what game you can scare up for a meal." With a last glance over his shoulder at the elf and a pointed glare at Thorongil, Selwyn went to arrange his own quarters for the night.

"You will not do this," warned Legolas, furious with Aragorn.

"I'm sorry, Legolas, but if I don't there may be worse trouble. They may decide to bind you," the man said, remorse in every syllable.

"Convince them otherwise!" he fumed. "I have done nothing to warrant this indignity and well you know it! It was a child's counting song, for Manwë's sake!"

"Yes, yes, I told Selwyn this," nodded Aragorn. "He is suspicious because of the guard's sudden interest in befriending you."

"Nay, he is suspicious because you got so riled about Caedmon's noble gesture and because you had obviously repeated our conversation about the bond we share." Legolas looked ready to attack and contained himself with effort, cheeks flushed and eyes glittering with menace. "I cannot believe you would discuss so personal a matter with someone you hardly know. Were you brought up by trolls?"

"I only said…"

"I don't care what words you used," spat Legolas. "You told him you have rejected me and now he believes I am fishing this little pond for a replacement." His hand shot out toward the knot of uneasy men erecting their tents. "I was making progress, too. They would have shed their irrational superstitions before annûn tomorrow. All of this, Kalrô, all of it is your fault. Ai! A curse upon Mithrandir's cryptic speech. I have made a horrible error; you cannot be the one he meant."

He stalked away into the trees and easily leapt into the branches of the tallest, climbing to the upper-most limbs in seconds. Though his heart was much moved to vent the pain of this new insult in song, he remained still and silent. It was true he had worked to encourage Caedmon's friendship but nothing more. Unlike Aragorn, he was reluctant to accept the severing of their bond and it would be long years before he would be prepared to attempt another like it.

He had simply hoped to get his hands on the guard's bow and quiver. Should the worst happen, he was going to need more than a dagger to get free of these people. Aragorn's jealous reaction had ruined that chance and now he looked upon the willows in despair. No matter how willing they were to be of aid, the wood of such trees was not suitable for constructing a bow even if he had the time to do it. Never before had Legolas wished he had the power to bewitch. If he could, he would cast over them all a deep sleep such as the waters of the Enchanted River produced and make his escape.

Aragorn remained beneath the tree where Legolas was perched. From time to time he tried to draw him out on the references to the wizard, but Legolas remained mute. At dusk, Selwyn arrived and traded heated words with the man, threatening to have his soldiers cut down the tree if the elf did not come down. That prompted Legolas to hurl down a rain of curses in his ancient tongue so potent they made Aragorn flinch even though he could not decipher the exact words. The Sheriff grew pale and demanded to know what heinous punishment had been rendered. Then Legolas answered in Westron:

"Look upon your green lands and weep, oh horse-lord, for Rohan will face a foe more terrible than any she has ever encountered. The danger comes not from elves but from a trusted ally. Darkness will cloud the thoughts and blind the eyes of your King and Theoden's own mouth shall deliver you to this tormentor. Rohan will burn, overrun by Orcs, Uruks, and evil men. Yet, maybe trees will save you before the end and thus no living wood should be cut or burned henceforth."

Everyone heard him. Everyone felt a creeping pall at this prophesy, and even Aragorn was speechless in its wake.

The night passed in uneasy stages.

Dawn arrived in cool, silvery splendour, a mist arising from the pond and rolling over the grass heavy with dew. The men awoke in this sparkling fog and emerged from their tents to find Thorongil asleep in damp and shivering misery beneath the tree, Legolas out in the meadow with his horse, whispering in her ear. They were afraid to approach him and summoned Selwyn, who nudged Thorongil rudely with his toe.

"Get him," he ordered brusquely.

"Aye," said Aragorn, rising at once, "but what of my request about the gag? I swear to you he will make no sound, even as the night heard nothing from him. And see, he might have tried to flee but there he is. What say you, Selwyn?"

"He said enough yesterday for all time to come," rebuked the Sheriff of the East Wold, "and he didn't run because he knows any of my horses is more than a match for his. My order stands: he is to remain gagged until the trial is over. Only in this way can I be certain he is not influencing what the witnesses say."

Legolas heard all this and mounted Tuilelindô, directing her to join the men. He had spent Ithil's hours regretting his spontaneous pronouncement of doom upon these people but realised he could not unsay it now. His rash outburst had caused the guards to remain more diligent and more cautious, removing his hope of escaping in the night while they slept. He had come to the decision that he had no choice but to comply with Selwyn's demand, determined for his own reasons to know the truth of what had happened between Rohan and Greenwood. Still, he made one last attempt to convince the Sheriff the gag was unnecessary. All the men dropped back behind their leader as he leaped to the ground and even Selwyn took a step back and presented the warding sign before him. Legolas shook his head, a rueful smile upon his lips.

"Sir, you must surely know by now that this gesture," he made it himself to gasps all around, "has no means to limit my actions. Be that as it may, I ask that you rescind this demand to forcibly silence me. I swear to you on all I hold most sacred, that being the soul of my departed mother, that I will utter neither speech nor song nor any noise of any kind, from now until you say otherwise. Kalrô shall be my voice, if he so agrees, or you may name another if you doubt him or he refuses."

"I would not refuse, Legolas," said the man, hurt.

"Well spoken, but unacceptable," answered the Sheriff. "For all I know, you have called down Mordor upon us and if not, well, I am unwilling to give you the opportunity to do so. Comply willingly and show me a sign of your good character."

"So be it," Legolas shrugged, arms folded over his heart, "though I have had no like sign of yours."

"You are not bound; that is your sign," barked Selwyn angrily, but he could not hold the elf's compelling eyes and abruptly wheeled and stalked away. He called out orders to his men and readied his stallion, forbearing to watch the execution of his order, for the Wood Elf's fury was a palpable thing swirling through the lifting mist.

"Well, do your duty, Kalrô" Legolas mocked and met the man's contrite eyes with sadness in his. He was not sure he could forgive Aragorn's many mistakes.

"I would spare you this if I could," insisted Aragorn, holding up the kerchief Selwyn had thrust into his hands during the argument the night before.

"You could have spared me this," reminded Legolas, "and yet still I hear no apology from you. When this is all done, I am going to find this mother of yours and learn what sort of woman taught you to be such a lummox."

"I am sorry," pleaded Aragorn settling the cloth between Legolas' opened jaws and tying the ends loosely behind. "There, it is no more than a token gag and it is your own decision to abide by this condition or not."

Legolas' eyes blazed with disbelieving fury at this and he bit hard into the cloth to keep from speaking his retort. He mounted Tuilelindo, but when Aragorn made to join him shoved him aside roughly with his foot. Grimly he pointed to the Sheriff and guided the mare away.

Aragorn spent the day's journey trading rides from one horseman to another but not once did Legolas permit him even to walk beside him. Not even water would he take from Kalrô's hands and it was the Sheriff who had seen to this necessity instead. By mid-afternoon they crossed some unobtrusive marker and Selwyn sent two riders ahead to make his visit and its purpose known, calling a halt. Aragorn hurried to his side, seeing that Legolas' mare was flanked by two of the more unsympathetic soldiers.

"If he is to be guarded thus, let you be his guardian. Those men have hope for nothing more than to see him condemned," he said urgently. "They will use any excuse to do him injury."

"Then let him be mindful of his actions," advised Selwyn, but he agreed with Thorongil and called away his soldiers. He put Caedmon in the place of one and took the second's himself, carrying Aragorn with him to the elf's side. "Here is the one who would speak for you; will you shun him still?"

Legolas shook his head and motioned Aragorn over, sliding forward once more, but he offered no help and twisted away from the man's touch once he mounted, glaring darkly over his shoulder.

"So be it; I will refrain from touching you," said Aragorn. "Despite this enmity between us, I will not desert you nor fail to defend you in this trial. I will be a true voice for you, Legolas." The Wood Elf exhaled a snort from his nostrils and urged Tuilelindô into step beside the Sheriff's steed.

The two messengers met them on the way and declared the two brothers, Bjorn and Ari, were due back from the plains where they had gone to inspect the growth of the new foals born that spring. Both men's wives pledged the hospitality of their husbands' hearths and invited the Sheriff's patrol to cross into their lands. With this permission granted, Selwyn and his troop set forth at a faster pace than they had used before, desiring to reach the farmstead before dark. The horsemen cantered into the tidy stable yard and dismounted as two young lads, no more than ten or so, ran out from the barn to stare in awe at the Riders of the Mark and their Sheriff. Their eyes alit on the strange pair astride the barebacked mare and their eyes expanded to monumental proportions. The heroes of the Wold were forgotten in an instant and the boys ran for the house, calling for their mother.

The men were not surprised by this and ignored the boys, but Legolas was deeply affected and remained on his mare, staring after them, his face transformed in planes of both sorrow and anger. Aragorn, glancing up to see what delayed him, looked where his gaze was directed and wondered why the humble house warranted such intense concentration.

"Legolas, what is it? Do you know this place?" He watched the elf shake his head and slip to the ground. He held his hand at waist height and then pointed at the window where a face peered out from behind the curtains. The gap shut the instant Aragorn turned to see. "The children?" he asked and now Legolas nodded grimly. "How can you know these people, Legolas, when you have not been here before? Were you part of the elvish party that met the Rohirrim?" A negative motion and an exasperated sigh was all the reply Legolas could give.

"What's all this?" Selwyn asked, having observed the interaction. Before Aragorn could begin to explain, the door of the house opened and two women emerged.

"Welcome, Selwyn, and be at home. I am Hjördís, wife to Bjorn, and this is Brynja, wife to Ari." Like all the women of Rohan, she was tall and looked as strong as the men, long golden hair braided down her back and a sturdy apron over her dress. It would not have been surprising to see a sword belted round her waist and her sharp blue eyes dissected the group quickly. She exhaled a quick breath, focusing on the half dressed man and the elf beside him and tried to hide her alarm behind anger. Her arm flew out, pointing. "Why have you brought this tarkil (Numenorean) and that raza (stranger) into our holding?"

Beside her, Brynja was staring in open misery at the elf, their vision fused and their minds roiling with this incomprehensible occurrence: that she should find in her courtyard an elf so like the one described to her it must be him, that he should see in her child's face the countenance of evil.

"I think you know why," answered Selwyn, eyes flicking to the silent woman. "When is your husband to return, good-wife Brynja?"

She tore her sight from Legolas and faced the Sheriff, but she could not bring herself to speak and abruptly fled back inside, slamming the door behind her. The men murmured uneasily, for this was not the welcome they expected and it forebode some dread truth lay at the core of their fears. Aragorn shared an almost triumphant smile with Legolas which faded under the weight of evident sorrow. He shook his head and pointed again to the window where the little face was watching. Aragorn peered at the boy and felt his heart clench; the child's stare was empty, unseeing; the look of a mind so shocked by trauma that it was not there.

"Oh, forgive her, Sheriff," Hjördís offered a wan smile, "there has been sickness in the house and…"

"Spare us your lies," snapped Selwyn. "It is obvious she fears the prisoners I have brought. Now, that is understandable enough. What I find strange is why you would try to deceive me about it."

Hjördís' back stiffened and she glared through narrowed eyes but made no answer to this charge. "We will set up planks in the yard and bring food," she said coldly and stalked regally back inside, cutting a deadly glare at Aragorn and making the warding sign at Legolas.

The soldiers helped her with the work and soon a steaming cauldron adorned the crude table, the aroma from it rich and hearty, and beside it a platter heaped with round loaves of flat bread. Every cup and bowl in the house was brought out and every utensil for eating as well, but there was still not enough. The men assured her they would manage, eager for the hot, home-cooked stew, and wasted no time emptying the pot. They sat on the dusty ground and wolfed down the meal with little talk, but Legolas refused to eat. He remained standing, eyes on the fields beyond the house, tense and expectant.

Time passed; the soldiers cleared away the clutter of the meal and put away the rough boards, sat and filled their pipes with tobacco Hjördís offered. Dusk settled in the yard and still there was no sign of the brothers. Hjördís stood by, arms folded across her breast, sullen, silent, and belligerent.

At last Selwyn stood and motioned four of his men up also. "Go find them and bring them back."

"They will be along, probably by morning," insisted the woman. "You are welcome to set your camp in the paddock there." She pointed behind the Sheriff.

"You are most gracious," said Selwyn, "and we will do as you suggest. But my men will go now and bring your men folk home to you."

The soldiers were readying their mounts when Legolas shifted, his hearing having picked up the sound of an approaching horse, and tapped Aragorn on the shoulder. He pointed in the direction of the sound and then held up his index finger: only one rider was coming in. It was not long before the others heard it, too, and all rose to watch the horse cantering down the lane. Hjördís sighed and glanced at the house, but the door remained shut and the windows dark, save for the one in the kitchen. When she looked back it was into the grim face of her husband. Bjorn made a small shake of his head as he dismounted, eyed the elf with alarm, and came to the Sheriff.

"Hail, Selwyn of the East Wold, and welcome to my hearth. I trust my good-wife has shown you the proper hospitality," he said and Legolas found his control admirable, though he could easily discern the fear and sorrow in every syllable.

"She has, Bjorn," nodded Selwyn, extending his arm in warrior's salute. "Where is Ari? I am here on an important matter as you must guess by the nature of these two strangers."

"Aye, it's about that raid two summers back." Bjorn grimaced and rubbed his jaw, shooting a speculative gaze at Aragorn, wondering over his appearance and what his presence beside the elf could mean.

"Well, where is he?" Caedmon prompted.

"What? Ah, yes, Ari. Ari is not coming in. He has gone from Rohan for a time."

"Gone? Where and why has he gone," demanded Selwyn. "Any trade expedition is to be registered with me listing the number and sex of the horses going out. Why has Ari disobeyed this rule?" The answer was obvious to all: there was no trade expedition.

"He's run off!" exclaimed Aragorn, indignant. "Only a guilty man would flee before even knowing the nature of your visit."

"Perhaps. What say you to this, Bjorn?" asked Selwyn.

"I don't know what has come over him of late," admitted Bjorn, sighing. "He's been …"

"You hold your tongue, Bjorn," snapped his wife. "Ari is not here to speak and none can speak for him. Don't you forget those children in there."

"That won't do," said Selwyn. "This is a serious matter and the fate of two nations may rest upon the answers we seek. Does Rohan need more enemies to fight? If Bjorn knows something, he must speak or relent to my arrest. He will answer me or he will answer Theoden King."

Legolas nudged Aragorn and motioned again at the house; the man understood. "There are those who might speak for Ari: his wife-mate Brynja and the older boy."

"No!" shouted Hjördís. "Don't you drag those wee ones into this horror. Who are you to say who should speak and who should not?"

"He is Thorongil, a name maybe you have heard even this far from Edoras," intoned Selwyn, watching her intake of breath and disbelieving scrutiny of the man.

"Hunh! How can this be the hero whose arm drew sword beside our beloved Thengel King? He is some rogue, some beggar!" scoffed the woman. "And there is the reason you have fallen prey to so ludicrous a farce." She pointed at Legolas. "You brought that thing in here, knowing I lost my brother in that raid, and it is that very creature that has swayed your mind to these lies and…"

"Enough, woman!" Selwyn cut her off. "I understand your rage and thus are we here, seeking the truth that justice may be served. Ari has much to tell of this, yet he has departed, fled while we sat and ate and enjoyed the hospitality of his house, while his good-wife cowered behind closed doors. He has had a fine head start, it seems to me."

"We can catch him up, Sir," insisted Caedmon. "Beldon and I have the swiftest stallions."

"Aye, go get him," nodded Selwyn.

"Wait," said Bjorn, defeat in his voice. "He has more of a start than you know. My brother left us some four days ago and he means never to return to Rohan."

A general commotion of consternation and bewilderment swept through the group. Hjördís cursed her husband with quiet disgust and stalked back into the house, slamming the door with a reverberating crash. Caedmon and Beldon exchanged disbelieving glances, ready to ride out anyway. Selwyn heaved a sigh and rubbed a hand across his brow, scowling at Bjorn. Aragorn watched Legolas' eyes flash in anger, his body tense and poised for action, fists curled tight at his sides. He was biting the gag so hard it would likely be cut through there. Into this confusion came the sound of the cottage door opening again and all eyes turned to see Brynja on the porch, a babe propped on her hip, her face a fractured display of grief and fear.

"It is truth you want," she said solemnly, "and that is right, for lies have been invented to cover a thing unspeakable, a thing that places Rohan under the doom of the Elven King in Mirkwood."

"Valar! Speak, woman!" exhorted Aragorn, sure her words must exonerate Legolas and his people.

"I know the truth," she repeated as though the man had not spoken, "and so does Bjorn, but we were afraid to speak out before. We are alone out here, and there are the children…"

"Afraid of what, good-wife?" asked Selwyn gently, realising the woman was in a sort of shock.

"Of Ari." It was Bjorn who answered him, head hanging low. "He changed after the raid and this is not the first time he has gone from us. When he came back the last time, he was no longer the brother I used to tease and jest with. I don't know what he is, but he is not Ari anymore."

"What do you mean?" demanded one of the soldiers. "Are you saying he fell prey to some enchantment or dark sorcery?"

"Aye, did the elves put a spell on him?" another asked.

"Sorcery, aye, so it must be," Brynja murmured and the idea seemed to grant her a measure of peace. "That must be what happened to my Ari."

"Hear her!" shouted a soldier. "She confirms our suspicions. That is more than enough proof; I say we render judgement now!"

"Be quiet!" ordered Selwyn. "This proves nothing. Bjorn, we came here to learn what you saw on that trade expedition. Tell us of the raid."

"I never saw it," Bjorn shrugged, "for I went as part of the delegation to the Mirkwood King." There were numerous groans and complaints all around but Aragorn interrupted them at Legolas' urging.

"You and your brother were the chosen emissaries?"

"No, he stayed with the herd," the horseman stared at the ragged man with the compelling eyes and shifted his gaze to Legolas next. A shudder worked through him. "By the Powers, it is the very one!" he whispered, pale, and a fine sheen of sweat smeared his forehead.

Selwyn did not miss the words and strode over to the man, took him at the shoulders and shook him roughly. "Explain, Bjorn! Did that elf kill our people? Was he there at the raid?"

"Nay, the elf was not at the raid. He was in the Black Tower," Brynja said simply, staring at Legolas with wide, watery eyes. "I am sorry; he was not like this always. Once he was a good man, truly he was!" She burst into tears and buried her face in her apron, crouched low in obvious anguish. The babe began to wail in kind. The door opened behind her and Hjördís came out, took the infant and settled her against a shoulder, reached for Brynja and drew her inside, passed a severe glower over the men gathered in the gloaming, shut the door without so much as a click of the latch.

The woman's outburst stirred the soldiers to discomfort, for why should she beg pardon of the elf on her husband's behalf? How could Ari know anything of who was imprisoned in Dol Guldur? How could she? They began to realise the injustice was not what they had thought it to be. As for Legolas he bowed his head, for he felt her sorrow and would show her kindness, sparing her this, sparing the children but for the wrong done to his people. Seeing his distress and perceiving an inkling of the truth, Aragorn set a consoling hand upon the ellon's shoulder and squeezed. They shared a silent moment of grim hatred for the Shadow behind all this strife.

"Bjorn, it falls to you to explain this change in your brother," the Sheriff said.

"Begin with the day of the raid," interposed Aragorn, for there was the root of the conflict.

"So be it," nodded Bjorn and sighed. "We went to see the Elven King, leaving the others behind with the horses. The elves were suspicious of us at first and asked many questions, surprised by our visit, it seemed to me, though Ari had assured us the folk of Lorien would send word ahead." He stopped, for Legolas was shaking his head vehemently.

Aragorn took his cue. "You mean there was no message from Lord Celeborn?" he asked Legolas and received confirmation in another vigourous negation.

"By the stars," groaned Selwyn. "Continue, Bjorn."

"Aye. We spent two days convincing the elves to trust us and even then they were skittish. I think they saw something wrong in Ari but I did not and so maybe they were fooled because of that." The man had to stop and compose himself. Presently he went on. "It took time for me to understand, you see." He was addressing Legolas. "I just couldn't accept it." His face contorted in misery and he tore his eyes from the elf, facing Selwyn in almost angry bewilderment. "Why is he gagged like that? It isn't right."

"Why isn't it right, Bjorn? We need to hear the truth," Aragorn pressed him. "Tell us the rest."

"Aye, aye," the man nodded, inhaling deeply to calm his nerves. "So, we convinced them to come out to the camp and trade for our horses. This one was there and he was all set to come along, but at the last minute his King called him back and another went in his place." He indicated Legolas and all eyes turned to him. The elf gave a short nod to confirm it, arms folded up over his heart and features set in a cold, expressionless mask. Bjorn resumed speaking.

"The elves were happy, singing songs and excited to see the horses, especially the Golden Lady. She was high-born and all deferred to her, but she was not haughty, laughing and singing and asking me about the horses in a fair voice, her accent pleasing to the ears. She told me her name but I could not pronounce it and this amused her."

This description wrung a pained groan from the elf and Legolas turned away, pacing the yard and tearing at his hair, shaking his head, eyes on the heavens, clearly beside himself and fighting for control. Aragorn joined him and silently gathered him into his arms, heard a quiet sob as Legolas slumped against him, felt hands clutch at his sides. The man remembered a golden ring in the bottom of the elf's small pack, a wedding band, and his heart fell. "Mellon, mellon," he whispered, "why didn't you tell me?" He untied the cloth and gently pulled the gag free, but Legolas remained silent. Over the ellon's bare shoulder Aragorn saw Selwyn nod consent to this, moved a soothing hand down the rigid spine.

"Continue," the Sheriff ordered quietly. Everyone could see where this story was headed and none doubted the misery their captive had endured, but Selwyn wanted his soldiers to hear it all. Just as the false story had been spread from border to border, now the truth must make the same journey and replace it. Already he dreaded the news he must carry to the new King at Edoras.

"We came near the camp, a pleasing spot beside the Great River with plenty of trees for shade and limitless grass for the horses, but suddenly the elves grew still and tense. They chattered in their strange talk and became agitated, the Golden Lady most of all. She turned to me and spoke, saying there was fighting ahead and asking if our men were well armed. Well, my brother was there and so I was excited and dashed ahead with all speed, thinking Orcs were attacking the camp. The elves charged with me, shouting battle cries, faces twisted in hatred, weapons drawn, but when we reached the camp the battle was over and everyone lay dead or dying, the horses gone.

"The elves dismounted and checked each man for life while I sought for Ari. He was not there. I could not understand it; our men had been stripped of their weapons and helms and cloaks; even their boots were stolen! While I was trying to make sense of it, fearing my brother's fate, the Golden Lady came to me. She said the trail was fresh and we could overtake the marauders if we made haste; would I join them? As though I needed to be asked! I told her about my brother and fear filled her eyes. She set a hand on my arm and said we must catch them before they reached the Black Tower.

"Can you understand my terror then? My brother, captive of the Wraiths, tortured for the sport of Orcs and foul men. It was too horrible to think and I rode in a blind rage. All I wanted was a chance to kill the ones who had done this."

Another pause broke his narrative, Bjorn overcome with emotion as he recalled the scene, but none spoke or so much as moved, spellbound by the tale. It was as though the audience willed him to go on and eventually he did, voice subdued now and choked with both shame and grief.

"The trail led us back under the eaves of Mirkwood. All at once there were arrows streaming past me. I thought the elves had spied Orcs and were firing but it soon became clear we had ridden into an ambush. Confusion broke out, I heard the Golden Lady shout once: 'Rohan?' she said, like a question it was, and then 'Treachery!' my fellow emissary shouted. The cover was so thick I couldn't get a glimpse of our attackers and wanted only to get out of the line of fire. There was nothing at which to aim my lance. In the midst of this chaos, I saw Ari riding through the trees. He joined me and grabbed my charger's bridle, jerking us in a new direction. In seconds, it seemed, we were back in the green fields beside Anduin, the fighting left far behind us, and we kept on riding. When we stopped we were alone, the only ones to make it out of there.

"I chided him, saying we had to go back and help, but he refused. He said the attackers were elves and our camp had been taken unawares. At first I couldn't believe him, for I could see no reason for them to do it, but he said it was for the horses and because the Mirkwood Elves had become sinister, servants of the Shadow."

That raised a low growl from the Wood Elf and Legolas pushed himself upright, glared at the man, shook his head. "No Wood Elf has ever served Shadow."

"Aye, it was a lie, but he is my brother and so at last I accepted his story," said Bjorn. "We made for home and were not followed. Ari kept talking about the treachery of the elves and by the time we got here, I was convinced it must be true. The alternative was to accuse my own brother of treachery and I could not. He was never an evil person, though maybe a bitter one. He complained about being poor more than most men, saying it was wrong for the elves to have such hoards of wealth while men went hungry. Oh, I don't want to make excuses for him. Before he left, he admitted to me his lie about the elves part in this and I can't condone it anymore."

"He did more than lie about it," said Legolas, voice laced with venom. "He arranged that ambush. Can you deny it?"

"I would not want to say it," grumbled Bjorn, but he could not meet the elf's eyes and kept his face averted.

"I don't need you to," spat Legolas. "He told me himself, gloated over it. He was so proud of his despicable deeds that I have no doubt he bragged to his woman, too. Call her out here, Sheriff, and make her speak." There was such steel in that voice that Selwyn could not have refused even had he wished it.

"Wait, let us hear the tale from your side, Legolas," Aragorn urged quietly. He kept a hand on his friend's shoulder and met the mournful expression turned upon him with an encouraging squeeze.

"There is little to tell," said Legolas. "Only one of my people made it out of that ambush: my brother Doronarth. He dragged himself to a guard's outpost, mortally wounded, and they carried him home with the lance that killed him as proof. Before he died, he reported that some of my people were taken alive. As he lay bleeding, he overheard the men discussing the price they should demand for the slaves. They left him, taking their captives south to Dol Guldur, to the Wraiths."

Aragorn shifted a little, uneasy over a nagging sense of recognition at the speaking of that name. Where had he heard of Doronarth? He put the thought aside; Legolas must be his concern now. He could guess the rest anyway and had no wish to make his friend relive the sorrow and the horror of losing both his brother and his beloved. It was equally obvious he had gone seeking revenge and ended up a captive, too. The mystery of his escape seemed irrelevant compared to the need to get the archer back home.

"What say you, Selwyn, is Legolas free to go?"

"This is indeed a tangled and terrible tale," uttered Selwyn, shaking his head. "I have heard enough to exonerate you, Legolas, and your people, though I don't understand the why of it or who killed our folk."

"Let the woman speak," insisted Legolas.

As though called by his voice, the door swung open behind them and Brynja emerged, the boy beside her. Everyone turned to her, but Legolas gasped aloud and stared at the child, or rather what the child held in his hands. He shook free of Aragorn and stumbled toward them, dropping down to his knees before the lad, eyes on the glittering knife he held out. With trembling hands he took it, handling it with the care one gives to something precious beyond words, and gathered it close against his heart. Head bowed in silent reverence, his tears were hidden by the fall of his golden mane.

TBC

The title is taken from "What fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both wind and tide." which is from Shakespeare's Henry VI, part 3, Act IV, Scene III

Thank you for the wonderful feedback on this story :D i love you guys.
- 6
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

To Resist both Wind and Tide

Chapter Seven: Dire Deception Divulged