The Curse of Angmar

By: Cassia and Siobhan
Rating: PG-13

 

Feedback: 
cassia_a@hotmail.com and siobhancl2@aol.com


Spoilers: 
Maybe little ones for previous stories in our series and other LOTR stuff 
possibly.

Disclaimer:  
We own nothing of Middle Earth or any of Tolkien’s worlds or characters. 
Everything recognizable belongs to JRR Tolkien; anything else belongs to us. We 
have no permission to use these characters and are receiving no money for this 
story. This story was written for enjoyment only.  Please do not use our 
original characters or situations without asking first.  Thank you.  

 

Summary:
Aragorn and Legolas wanted only to rest and heal after their harrowing 
experiences in the south.  But fate has other plans.  Evil has always haunted 
the Barrow Downs near the Shire, but now strange things have begun happening and 
many are saying that the wights have awoken to haunt the countryside.  Aragorn 
and Legolas, along with Aragorn’s brothers and fellow rangers, must ascertain 
the truth of what is going on, but will what they find be more than they can 
deal with?  

 


Series:
Yes, part of the Mellon Chronicles Universe. :o)

Other stories in the series are:
Captive of Darkness
Hope
Father’s Love
Never Alone
First Meetings 
Change of Heart, Change of Mind 
Exile
Return
Mistaken Identity
Vilya
Black Breath
Sickness
The Seventh Stone
Betrayal
Legolas’ No Good, Rotten Day
Priceless Treasure
The Stars of Harad
Dark Visions
Traitor
&
Escape from Mordor

Also part of this series and already written, but chronologically taking place 
after this story:

And So The End

 

This story will make more sense if you have read those first, although if you 
want to be adventurous and give it a whirl by itself, go right ahead!

Warnings: 
The usual.  
Some character owies, 
general reader health warnings, etc.

Language Note:  
We use two different forms of the elvish word for ‘brother’ in this story.  
Muindor which simply means brother, and Gwador which implies a sworn-associates 
as-close-as-brothers kind of relationship not bound by actual familial ties.  

 
Additional Disclaimers: 

Aragorn + Elrond + Elladan + Elrohir = family.  :o) 
By now you all know our take on this I am sure - in our world birth mother and 
father *both* died and the elves were Estel’s only family. 

Just so you know, our ideas on the Barrow Downs, wights, etc. may be different 
than yours, although we have tried to stick as closely to the book 
interpretation as possible.  However there isn’t much there, leaving a lot left 
to be filled in by the imagination, so if you disagree, please accept that this 
is simply our version of it and don’t flame us for it.  Thanks!

We have quite a large cast of secondary characters in this story (although I 
begin to think that the Twins are almost a little above normal supporting cast 
status by now) and even a rather prominent OC or two, which is mildly unusual 
for our stories.  However, we have still kept the focus more or less on Aragorn 
and Legolas, since of course they are our favorites and the point of this whole 
series!  So don’t’ worry.  :o)  
 
Any spelling, date, cannon or character errors are the fault of the authors only 
and are completely by accident.  We are not an expert on Middle Earth and have 
never claimed to be.  So please forgive any omissions that you might find.  
Likewise, please forgive the inevitable typos, spelling errors, etc. and enjoy 
the story anyway. 
ALSO we do occasionally have names turn up that start with a J.  I realize that 
there are few to none of those in LOTR but hey, consider it a translation fluke, 
‘kay?  It’s not really a big deal. :o)  


And on to the story! :o)

 

___________________________________________________________

 

-Curse of Angmar-


 

~*PART ONE*~

 

Their footsteps could barely be heard as they crept through the large house 
nestled deep in the beautiful valley of Imladris.  Sneaking up the elegant 
stairway and quietly entering the room at the end of the hallway, Lord Elrond’s 
twin sons silently approached the bed that held their younger human brother, 
Estel.

The ranger had returned the previous day and the twins had not yet had the 
opportunity to see him as they had only just returned from a quick trip through 
the mountains themselves.

The human lay on his stomach, his face turned to the far wall.  The sheets fell 
in folds off the bed, wrapped about his waist, exposing the top of his sleeping 
breeches.  One arm lay under his head beneath the pillows that cushioned him and 
the other dangled off the mattress.  

The man had filled out since they had last seen him.  He had grown up.  His 
shoulders and back were broad and muscular and his facial hair, albeit scraggly 
in comparison to others, had grown as well.  Shoulder length wavy tangles of 
dark hair, coated with the warm glow of early morning light, fell across his 
face as he breathed deeply in sleep. 

Feigned sleep.

His senses, having been battle-heightened over the many years of war he had 
seen, were alert and although the man had not completely woken, every fiber in 
his body tensed, bringing his awareness slowly to the surface.  

Elladan barely knelt on the bed; it gave way easily beneath him with a soft 
squeak.  The elf leaned towards the ranger, a devilish smile on his face; it had 
been a long time since he had been able to surprise his youngest brother.

Instantly awake and on the defensive, Estel twisted in the bed sheets, recoiling 
from the presence he had felt.  Automatically his hand wrapped around the hilt 
of the elven blade he had placed beneath his pillow out of habit sometime in the 
pre-dawn after his father had left his room.  He slept better with it near at 
hand lately and putting it there had been an almost unconscious reflex.  

Bringing the weapon up with lightning fast speed, Estel pressed the sharp edge 
of the knife against his perceived attacker’s throat.  His left hand wrapped in 
the dark hair of the elf that knelt next to him, holding Elladan still against 
the steel razor and pressing forward threateningly.

The elf froze; breathing carefully as the blade scraped dangerously against his 
jugular.  His eyes wide, Elladan slowly raised his hands, taking note that the 
human who held him so precariously was not quite awake or aware yet.  His 
younger brother’s attack had simply been an automatic response to a perceived 
threat.  It was an action that neither twin was prepared for however; the ranger 
had never raised his weapons against them before save in jest or to spar... this 
was neither.

“Estel?”  Elladan spoke his name softly, causing Aragorn to blink several times 
as he took in his surroundings.  He was not on the banks of Pelargir nor the 
blood-soaked plains of South Gondor, the attacker before him was not a Haradrim 
or Corsair, it was an elf with oddly familiar eyes...

“Elladan?”

Aragorn loosened his hold at once, releasing his brother and allowing Elladan to 
press him back against the pillows while Elrohir slipped the blade from the 
human’s hand.  Aragorn breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and holding his 
breath as his heart pounded wildly in his chest, trying to absorb the adrenaline 
that had shot through his system.

The ranger sighed softly and stared up into the blue eyes that scrutinized him. 
Estel didn’t move when Elladan pinned him to the bed, his hands on the younger 
human’s shoulders as he leaned over the man.  His nearly disastrous reaction to 
his elven brother frightened Aragorn; he hadn’t heard the twins enter his room 
and had forgotten that he had slipped his knife under his pillow before he had 
fallen completely asleep.  The reaction surprised him as much as it did the 
twins and so he simply lay on the bed, catching his breath.  If he had pressed 
against the blade even a little too hard... Aragorn shuddered slightly.  The 
wars he had lived through these past years had marked him too much; he had a 
great deal to unlearn.

It had been many years since the twins had seen their brother and the visible 
changes in the human both intrigued them and saddened them as well.  The 
emotions were foreign and strange.  Aragorn knew there would need to be a time 
of adjustment.  Things weren’t as they always had been and Elladan’s keen senses 
picked that up immediately.

“We heard you had returned.  You have... changed, little brother.”  Elladan 
whispered softly.  It wasn’t just his outward appearance or actions; they could 
see the age in his eyes, more so even than his years.  Because elves aged so 
slowly after reaching maturity, it was almost as if their little brother had 
grown up to be older than them.  It was strange to the twins, unsettling.  

Changed.  An understatement, Aragorn thought sarcastically, but he simply 
nodded.  There was nothing else to be said, it was true.  He tried to explain 
himself, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.  I wasn’t awake... I...  It was 
an automatic response; I thought you were an enemy.”

Gently placing the sharp elven blade on the dresser, Elrohir sat on the edge of 
the bed, watching his brothers.  Deep in his heart he knew Estel was 
different... older, and he could feel the weight the human carried in his own 
heart.  He smiled softly as the ranger’s silver eyes turned to gaze briefly at 
the dark haired elf.  Although things had changed, he for one was very glad that 
Estel had returned to them, the years since they had last seen the ranger had 
been long indeed, even in a timeless place such as Rivendell.  After all, life 
was full of changes; they didn’t have to be bad.  Estel would always be their 
little brother in their hearts, no matter what happened.  

When Aragorn glanced back at his older brother he noticed the frown that creased 
Elladan’s forehead.  The elf was staring at the scar that marred the man’s lip. 
Self-consciously Estel covered the blemish with the fingers of his right hand, 
dropping his gaze from the twins.  His slight beard and mustache concealed the 
worst of the scar but it still bothered him.

Elrohir caught the ranger’s wrist and gently pulled Aragorn’s hand away.

“What happened?”  He asked softly.

Moving out of his brother’s grip Estel scooted back against the pillows behind 
him and sat up in the bed, drawing his knees up to his chest and fingering the 
mark.

“It was a war wound, from a fight with a Haradrim.  They are fierce warriors.”  
He glanced at Elladan as he spoke, “But he did not return home and I did.”

Elladan nodded, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Well you know, they 
say that women find battle scars very attractive.”  The elf looked quickly at 
his twin who matched his smile.

Shaking his head, Aragorn rolled his eyes, “Leave it to you to find something 
positive about it.”  He scooted over as Elladan seated himself on the edge of 
the bed across from Elrohir.

“Tell us of it?”  Elrohir asked cautiously.

“Of what?”

“The war, your time with men, all of it.”  Elladan finished the thought his twin 
had started, eager to hear how their brother had fared.  Little word had been 
sent through the years as carriers often fell prey to the ravages of war, 
bandits in the hills, or worse.

“Not yet.”  Aragorn glanced from one twin to the other, “Please, let me leave it 
for a while. I only wish to be Estel.  There are some things I *need* to 
forget.”  Deep weariness marked the gaze he laid on the elves and they 
immediately withdrew from their questioning.

Gently touching Estel’s shoulder, Elrohir apologized, “We meant no harm Estel.  
If it is painful it is best left until you are ready.”

Aragorn smiled softly, his hands busy worrying the edges of the blanket that he 
had pulled up to his chest, a habit he had never broken himself of, “It is... I 
am weary of it.  The world men of has taught me many things, some good, but much 
of which I wish to forget.”

“I see it has also taught you to sleep with your blade under your pillow.”  
Elladan eyed the weapon that rested on the nightstand, his tone taunting as he 
deftly changed the subject, not wishing to make his younger brother any more 
uncomfortable than they already had.

“Oh that.” Estel laughed quietly, “Yes, I got used to sleeping with that in my 
hand.  I slipped it under my pillow out of habit last night after father left 
me.  Please forgive me Elladan, that is one routine I will need to break.”

“*Before* you kill someone would be nice.”  Elrohir chided playfully.

“Oh and you think you didn’t deserve it!?”  Aragorn glanced from one twin to the 
other, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion, trying to hide his smile.  “You 
think I don’t know that you were trying to scare me?”  He laughed as the twins 
affected an air of shocked innocence.  “Probably had in mind to drag me out of 
bed and play one of your tricks on me didn’t you now?  Well they won’t work 
anymore.”

Elladan sobered immediately.  He knew that Estel was teasing them but he could 
also feel that the human spoke the truth.  Aragorn’s age of innocence was gone 
and the little brother that they had known had finally, truly grown up.  The 
older twin looked quickly away, trying to hide the sadness his thoughts had 
suddenly evoked.  He knew it was natural, but could not help the bitter-sweet 
feelings of one who has watched someone grow from infancy.  

Aragorn however was not fooled and leaned forward, tipping Elladan’s chin up, 
forcing the elf to look at him.  It was a tiny action that the elven twins had 
done a thousand times with their younger brother and now the roles were 
reversed.  “What is it?  What have I said?”

“You are not the young Estel that we remember.” Elrohir whispered softly, his 
voice uncertain as he spoke the words.  They knew.  They knew their brother was 
human, they knew with their heads it would be this way, but their hearts still 
had trouble grasping the fact that their young Estel had become a man, a 
battle-weary man whose cares hung heavy upon him.  

Aragorn glanced from the youngest twin to Elladan who was watching him again 
carefully.  “He is right. You are not,” The elder twin concurred quietly.  It 
was not bad that Aragorn had become an adult, they were proud of the man he had 
become... but it was hard to let go of the boy.  

“Oh.” Estel silently mouthed the one syllable word and leaned back against the 
headboard as realization sunk in.  His elven brothers were having difficulty 
with the fact that Aragorn had finally grown up.  The ranger reached his left 
hand behind his back pushing a pillow into a more comfortable position.  As his 
fingers touched the soft, down-filled bag, a thought brushed his mind and he 
gripped the cushion, tensing.

“You think I am so changed that you fear you no longer recognize the person in 
this body?”  He asked quietly, voicing the elves’ unspoken fears.

“Yes, perhaps.”  Elrohir answered hesitantly, glancing at Elladan for 
confirmation.  The brothers had always been honest with one another; it would do 
no good for them to hide their thoughts now.  

Nodding his head Aragorn dropped his gaze, throwing his brothers off just enough 
so that when he slipped the pillow he held from behind his back, Elladan was 
unprepared for the soft blow.

The elf fell off the side of the bed; the pillow following him as Aragorn landed 
the cushion squarely in his older brother’s face.  Gripping the edge of the bed 
Estel looked over the side of the mattress, watching as the elf pulled the 
pillow off of his head and stared, open-mouthed, at the human.

“Hmm... well, guess if I can still rub your face in a pillow I haven’t changed 
that much, have I?”  The human laughed from his vantage point before being 
pulled back from the edge by Elrohir.  The twin had taken hold of Aragorn’s 
ankle and jerked the ranger back, pressing a large bed pillow over the human’s 
head and burying his face in the blankets with a shout of mirth.

By the time Lord Elrond entered the room, followed by Legolas, no one could 
remember who had actually started the pillow fight, but the broken cases and the 
snowfall of downy feathers that rained down on the room’s occupants incriminated 
them all.

When Elrond cleared his throat, Elladan and Elrohir quickly sat up, releasing 
their captive who bolted upright in the middle of the bed, coughing and spitting 
out a mouthful of feathers.  Fluffy white twigs of down stuck out from the dark, 
disheveled hair at odd angles and the bright silver eyes smiled as the ranger 
extricated himself from the pile of pillows and empty cases that he had been 
buried under.

Looking slowly around the room Elrond shook his head, his gaze landing lastly on 
his youngest son, sitting in the middle of the bed, flanked by the elven twins 
who were trying desperately to look innocent - a tactic that very nearly always 
failed.

“So Estel, I see you have lost the pillow fight again?”  The elven lord entered 
the room, his tone imperious, his eyes full of laughter.  He fought to keep 
contained the smile that slipped slowly across his face.

“I am afraid so Ada.” Aragorn glanced between his brothers, “They were picking 
on me again.”  The human’s eyes took on a pitiable gaze, begging the elf lord to 
intervene.

When the twins started sputtering in self-defense and pointing at the ranger, 
Elrond could contain his laughter no longer.  “I see some things have not 
changed.”

“I am afraid Lord Elrond,” Legolas spoke up from his place in the doorway, “that 
with Estel around, some things never will.”

“Good.” Elrohir whispered, “I like it that way.”  He smiled as Aragorn glanced 
at him.

The ranger pulled his brother into a tight hug, “Me too.” He whispered into the 
elf’s ear before shoving the twin playfully away from him.

 
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

~~~~~~~~
They gave me a life that’s not so easy to live
And then they sent me on my way
I left my loving, forgot my dreams
I lost them along the way.


Those little things you say
When words mean so much
You never back down
When they all shy away
You always listen to me.

 

--Three Doors Down
~~~~~~~~

 

 

It had been nearly two weeks since Aragorn had returned and the rest that his 
weary heart had begged for was just only now beginning to take hold.  Padding 
barefooted across the wood floor of Elrond’s study room Aragorn quietly made his 
way to the picture window that stood open, facing the rift that Rivendell had 
been built into.  It appeared that no one was awake yet in the house save for 
Celboril and the kitchen staff.

Morning was just breathing her sigh of warmth in the valley.  The far side of 
the cleft that held Imladris was aflame with the first touches of the sun.  

Estel stood silently on the balcony that overlooked the river far below.  His 
unfocused eyes did not notice as the sun crept over the valley and painted her 
black and grey palette with brilliant colors of light.  His thoughts were flung 
far beyond the safety of the rift that sheltered him.  He shivered slightly but 
the chill that ran up his spine had nothing to do with the still cool morning 
air.

Elrond had been awake when the ranger stirred that morning and followed quietly 
in the man’s wake.  The elf lord had fully expected that there was much weighing 
on Estel’s heart that he was either unable or unwilling to share.  A shadow 
edged the ranger’s eyes and his lightheartedness had not returned fully.  Elrond 
stood in the shadows of the room behind his son watching the young human.  He 
could feel the confusion that warred inside the man, mixed with a sorrow that he 
did not understand.  They had spoken of the dark shadows of Mordor and all that 
had happened there... but truly, that had touched Legolas’ soul deeper than 
Estel’s.  There was something different that troubled his youngest son.

When Aragorn sighed deeply and laid his head down on his arms crossed atop the 
balustrade the elf lord moved from the shadows and stepped silently up behind 
the ranger, gently placing his hand on the broad shoulders as he moved to the 
side, trying to glimpse Estel’s face.

Aragorn started slightly before laying a rueful smile on the elf lord.  Elrond 
remained about the only being that could utterly surprise him like he just had.

“Father, you startled me.”  Aragorn shifted, facing the older elf and leaning 
against the low stonework.  “What wakens you so early?”

“Funny, I was about to ask you the very same question.”  Deep blue eyes pierced 
through to the soul before him and Aragorn was surprised to find himself 
instantly shying away from the touch that was so familiar and yet so unwelcome. 
He dropped his gaze to the floor of the valley, watching the Bruinen sweep by 
below them.

Elrond turned and leaned against the railing, waiting out the human.  The quiet 
roar of the waterfalls at the head of the river could just barely be heard on 
the still morning air and the silence hung between them heavily.  He had finally 
decided that his son was not going to open up to him just yet, when Aragorn 
turned his gaze back to the elf and held his father’s questioning glance.

“I do not wish to be human.”

The statement, spoken quietly, was simple and blunt.  The grief behind the words 
touched Elrond’s heart.

“You were never given that choice Estel.  Your blood is Númenorean and though 
there is very minute traces of elvish in you; you cannot choose to be one of the 
firstborn my son.”  Elrond gently laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“If I had been I would go with you now across the sea.  The world is wearying.  
I have seen enough of man’s cruelty and intolerance to last a lifetime.  If I 
cannot be what my heart desires, cannot lay claim to the things I truly love, 
then I will not walk amidst those for whom I feel so little kinship, will not 
tread a path whose end I cannot see, I choose exile.”  Aragorn frowned deeply 
and glanced back across the way, finally noticing for the first time that 
morning had blushed the mountains with its first rays.  Obviously these thoughts 
had been heavy on his mind for some time.

“Your heart is weary.”  Elrond recognized the battle-exhausted look; the look of 
one who had seen too much death and darkness.  

“More than you know.”  The whispered words fell away, caught by the slight 
breezes that were beginning to pick up.

“I know full well how you feel Estel.  I too have been there and if you think 
that only men have the corner on brutality, intolerance and hatred you would be 
wrong.”  Elrond stepped back as Aragorn straightened and turned towards the elf, 
resting the small of his back against the top of the rail.

The ranger shook his head.  “I saw men killing each other, not even knowing why, 
but simply because they were sent out to do so.  I saw women and children caught 
in the chaos and whole cities decimated.  Men who sought profit by enslaving 
another being and subjecting that being to horrible cruelty.  Selling one 
another, murdering, stealing...” Aragorn closed his eyes against the images that 
surfaced. “The darkness I saw in Mordor was deep and terrible... but I saw 
glimpses of that same darkness in the eyes of too many in the south that were 
neither orc nor wraith.  I have seen what power does to men, and I want no part 
of it.”

“The elven races are no different,” Elrond said quietly.  “We are simply older 
now.  When one has an immortal lifetime, lessons learned are sometimes better 
remembered.  We were just as you are once.  I have seen elves do the same to one 
another.  I know how heavy your heart is.   You must trust that it will not 
always be this way.”  Elrond hurt for his son.  The things the young man had 
seen drew scars on the heart of a kind that often did not fully heal, but he 
could not allow the human to turn from his own race; this one had a destiny that 
could not be so easily thrown aside.

“It does not feel like it will ever leave, the ache I mean,” the ranger 
explained when his father frowned slightly at him.  “I went to Rohan, to Gondor, 
to see what their world held.  To see if I could be what they need me to be... I 
cannot.  You have told me of my heritage, of my supposed future, but I do not 
want it.”

“You do not have to right now my son.  It is not for you at this time.”  
Elrond’s words were calm and reasonable, yet laced with compassion.  

“But it will be!”  Aragorn stepped back, his anger peaking at his own 
helplessness and sense of inadequacy, “And do you think that in twenty or thirty 
years men will have changed?  I do not.  What difference will I be able to make 
in the world?”

“More than you can know.” Elrond glanced down to Estel’s hands and noticed that 
Barahir was missing from his fingers.  The ranger slowly opened his fist and the 
ring shown brightly in the warm light.  When the elf met his son’s gaze he 
noticed the guilt that hid just behind his eyes.  “You were going to get rid of 
it?”

Aragorn nodded and dropped his eyes to the floor beneath his boots.  “I had 
thought to throw into the Bruinen where it would never be found...”

“And so escape your destiny?”  Elrond closed his right hand around his son’s, 
the ring biting gently into his palm.  “The ring only marks you outwardly as 
Isildur’s heir.”  With his left hand the elf touched the human’s chest above his 
heart, “The true power you carry, and the goodness with which you will wield it, 
is in here... and nothing can change that.”

Silver eyes locked onto the earnest blue ones.  He knew the truth in what his 
father told him, but his war-weary heart shied at the thought.

“You have not come to that point in your life yet Estel; you have much farther 
to go still and many years to enjoy.  Do not feel imprisoned by the expectations 
of others, even those of us who love you.  Go where your heart leads you; you 
know you are welcome to rest here as long as you wish.”  Elrond smiled as the 
hand caught in his own tightened slightly and Aragorn wrapped his right arm 
around the elf lord, pulling him in closely.

“Thank you father.  I would stay on here for a while.  I need the rest.” Estel 
whispered softly into the elf lord’s ear.

Elrond nodded in understanding as the young man pulled back, “I for one am glad, 
for I missed you these past years.  Since you have been in my life young one, I 
have begun to experience time as the race of men does and I do not cherish that 
feeling.”  He laughed lightly as he wrapped his arm around Estel’s shoulders and 
drew him back inside with him.  “It will do my heart good to have you near 
again.  Besides, Celboril has done nothing but complain about not being able to 
make panjacakes.  You know you are the only one who loved those things.  I am 
sure he will have some ready for you this morning when we break fast!”

Aragorn smiled and walked back into the house, easily allowing himself to be 
lead through the large mansion.  He gently wrapped his arm around his father’s 
waist and laughed as the older elf began to tell him about a stunt his brothers 
had pulled just last week.  He found he was amazed at how young he suddenly felt 
and how light his heart became when he released his cares and relaxed into the 
warmth of his home, Imladris.  Something echoed deeply inside and he realized he 
had missed his family more than he knew.  

Slipping Barahir back on his finger he allowed his heritage to settle deep in 
his heart, far from the surface; accepted but not taken up.  For now he was 
Estel, at home in Rivendell and he could hear the sounds of his brothers echoing 
down the stairwell as they teased Legolas mercilessly.

He laughed, pulling back behind his father slightly for protection as the Silvan 
elf vaulted the railing, jumped from the last landing of the staircase and 
landed lightly next to him.

“This is all your fault.  You must stop them.”  The blonde elf laughed as he 
stepped behind the human and the elf lord.  

Elladan and Elrohir had chased him down the stairs and the prince glowered at 
them with unrepressed mirth as he hid behind their father and brother.  “*I* did 
NOT use either one of your closets for my clothes, Estel gave these to me last 
night!  Take it up with him!”

Aragorn held up his hands innocently against his brothers mock-accusing stares. 
“Well Celboril is the wrong size.  I couldn’t find you last night to ask and 
Legolas said he was sick of wearing my clothing...”

At this Elladan and Elrohir had to laugh.  “I wonder he did not weary of that 
the first day.”

Elrond shook his head with a smile.  Aragorn’s clothing, even the silk or velvet 
tunics and robes he wore around Imladris, had looked slightly off on Legolas’ 
graceful form.  Especially since Aragorn was wider built than the slender elf.  
However, even the brown and maroon tunic and leggings that Aragorn had borrowed 
from his brothers, although a bit of a nearer fit, still did not look completely 
natural on the blonde archer.

“Well the good news,” the elven lord said patiently as the younger beings 
jostled about him with Aragorn pretending to growl at his brothers for the 
slight and them pretending to be oh so frightened.  

“Is that the tailor said the clothing I commissioned for the Prince should be 
ready later today.”  Elrond supposed rightly that Legolas would feel more 
comfortable once he was again able to dress in the familiar styles of his 
woodland kin.

Legolas smiled gratefully, pretending to ignore the three brothers.  “Thank 
you.”

“Now,” Elrond used a tone one might employ for very small children, which made 
his three boys look up almost in unison.  It was all Legolas could do to keep 
from laughing.  “I believe Elladan and Elrohir expressed the desire to take you 
both out hunting with them today, so I suggest that this would be a good time to 
have that breakfast.”

Aragorn smiled.  It was *so* good to be home.  “Yes, Ada.”

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART TWO*~

 

 

The sun had ridden half way through its course across the sky when Aragorn 
finally convinced his brothers and Legolas to stop for a bite to eat.  The four 
had been out with the hunting parties since early morning and had sent the other 
elves back to Imladris with their catches only an hour ago.  The game on the 
plateau they hunted now was sparse but their boredom had turned into sport as 
they took turns hunting each other.

Aragorn had been the last one to play the part of the prey and none of the 
elves, including Legolas had been able to track the human.  When the three 
hunters had finally given up on finding him, their quarry had leapt into their 
midst from the branches of the huge trees that spread out a thick leafy canopy 
over the elves heads.  The shock and surprise on the elven faces had given the 
human great amusement.

Elladan gave the ranger a shove as he recovered from the initial shock.

“Estel will you never grow up!?”

Attempting to sober, Aragorn straightened up and glanced amongst the elves.  
“No.” the man answered with mock seriousness before breaking into a huge smile. 
The twins had almost gotten over their initial shock at the changes the years 
apart had wrought in their human brother and Aragorn noted with amusement that 
he was once again back to being their ‘little’ brother.  And he liked it that 
way... although he would never admit that to them.  “Please, let us break for 
food. I am starving. Please.”  He eyed Elrohir, knowing the youngest twin would 
have the most sympathy.

Shaking his head Legolas hooked his fingers in the ranger’s sleeve and dragged 
the man with him, back through the woods, trailing the twins.  “There was a pond 
not far from here.  We can eat there.” 

Aragorn was laughing as he stumbled after the prince, jogging to keep pace with 
the swift being.

“Only if it is not near a cliff.” Elladan taunted, elbowing Elrohir who joined 
in the teasing.

“Yes you know how clumsy Estel is around them.”  The youngest twin continued.

“Or an orc encampment...” Elladan picked up the thread again.

Doing his best to ignore them, Aragorn shook his head and rolled his eyes, 
walking next to Legolas who was trying not to break out laughing.

“Or dwarves...” Elrohir laughed.

“Or rivers, or cities...”

“Wargs or wolves or old mills that he could fall off of.”  Elrohir stopped 
talking and jumped back as Aragorn rounded on his brothers.

“Now, that was not my fault, and so long ago I can’t believe you are even 
keeping score!  I have not fallen off a building since I was a child.” Aragorn 
advanced on the two who split up trying to stay out of reach.

“No, just waterfalls, trees and cliffs, things like that.” Elladan ducked as the 
ranger turned towards him, playfully lunging at the elf.  He rather suspected 
that Legolas had told them about the cliff incident in Mordor and that had 
helped set this off.  

Legolas snagged the back of the ranger’s coat and jerked him around forward.  
“Ignore them, they are just jealous because your father gives you more 
attention.  They only wish it was them who lived such an exciting life.”

The taunt elicited a stammering of arguments and denials from the twins but 
Aragorn had stopped listening.  His war honed sense of danger had kicked in, 
something was not right and he began to search for the source of the 
disturbance.  Grabbing Legolas’ arm and the ranger slowed the elf and glanced 
warily about them as they reached the edge of the glade.  The deep pool Legolas 
had mentioned sparkled on the far side of the meadow, fed by a high mountain 
stream but the ranger did not proceed towards it.

Legolas held up his hand silencing the elves behind him.  Noting the tenseness 
in the prince they all began to listen to the woods about them and heard what 
Aragorn had first noticed, the forest was silent.

“We are not alone.” The ranger barely whispered, turning slowly and gazing into 
the cool recess of the woods.

He caught Legolas’ gaze as the elf glanced sharply his way.  Without words the 
two friends communicated in silence.  Aragorn directed the twins to separate and 
head back the way they had come.  Legolas would head through the woods to the 
right and Aragorn would take the left. With a curt nod of agreement the elves 
disappeared without a sound into the forest seeking what it was that hunted 
them.

Aragorn slowly drew his elven hunting knife, the blade quietly singing as the 
metal slid from its sheath.  He stalked through the forest, constantly glancing 
above him into the tree branches over head, wary and alert, every fiber of his 
being tensed and ready.  There was definitely someone or something out there, he 
could feel their proximity.  Slipping to the edge of the stand of trees as he 
completed a full circuit around the meadow Aragorn stopped at the point where he 
should have met up with Legolas but the elf was not there.

His worry notched up higher in his throat and he stood very still, straining to 
hear in the unnatural quiet.

The soft sounds of booted feet on the carpet of undergrowth caught his attention 
and he swiveled to his right, running silently in the direction that he had been 
alerted.

The trunk of a large old tree sheltered him from immediate view as the ranger 
stalked up on Legolas.  The elf faced away from his position, he had just 
dropped his elven blade to the ground and slowly raised his empty hands.  

A man stood behind him, his features concealed by a hooded cloak.  One of the 
human’s arms was around the prince’s neck, the other holding a thick hunting 
blade against the elf’s jugular.  Whatever the human was saying was blocked out 
by the rushing adrenaline that spiked through Aragorn.  He would not suffer his 
friend to be tormented or hurt by any man every again if it was within his 
power. 

What he could not see however, was the smile that played across Legolas’ lips 
and the relaxed cast of the proud shoulders as the elf released the tension in 
his body; his ‘attacker’ was known to him.

Just as Legolas turned to greet the human who had so surprised him, he caught a 
glimpse of Aragorn as the man lunged at the hooded figure roughly dragging the 
man back a few steps away from the prince and the perception of threat.  
Pressing the elven blade hard against the human’s neck he drew close and 
questioned the other harshly.

“You think the elf is game?  You like hunting elves?”  Aragorn tightened his 
death grip on the man’s neck squeezing his airway as gloved hands pried 
frantically at his arm.  “You have chosen your prey poorly.  You are not welcome 
in these mountains do you understand?”  The ranger growled angrily in the 
other’s ear, giving his captive a good shake.

“Aragorn, no!” Legolas leapt forward, stalling his friend from hurting the 
would-be attacker.

“Aragorn?” the human in the ranger’s grasp rasped as Strider quickly released 
the man and stepped away from him, unconsciously placing himself between the 
hooded figure and the elf prince.

“Estel, it is Halbarad, the rangers have been searching for you.”  Legolas 
explained, switching quickly into the elven tongue as his friend caught up with 
all that had just transpired.

The ranger before him smiled brilliantly, rubbing his neck where it was still 
tender from the attack.  “Aragorn! I never even heard you come up behind me, and 
look at you!”  Halbarad gave the young man before him a careful glance, “We have 
heard the tales of Thorongil.  It was my suspicion that is was in fact you.  
When the rumors said that the great captain of the Gondorian army had abandoned 
her, and that Estel had returned to Rivendell, I knew it was true.”

Before Aragorn could respond the ranger walked out in to the open meadow and 
pressed his gloved fingers to his lips, releasing a long low whistle.  In 
seconds other rangers stepped out into the sunlight of the small glade joining 
their leader.  Elladan and Elrohir raced to the edge of the glen and immediately 
began greeting the newcomers that they recognized.

Aragorn turned to Legolas and looked the elf over quickly, “You weren’t hurt?”  
He was still trying to reconcile the threat he had perceived with what had 
really transpired.  The elf prince stepped close to his friend and lowered his 
voice, glancing at the human and quietly reassured him. 

“I am fine. Halbarad did not harm me, well other than my pride at being 
surprised by a *human*.” Concern quickly colored the elf’s formerly teasing 
gaze, “Are you all right?”

“I thought you were in danger.  I thought that...”  Aragorn sighed deeply, 
releasing his fears and pent up tension not finishing the thought.  He hated the 
war-like responses that had been drilled into him.  This was the second time 
he’d nearly harmed a friend because of an over-reaction.  It would take time to 
hone out those responses and not take reflexive action now that there was no 
immediate threat in his life.

“You thought I was being attacked.”  Understanding filled Legolas’ eyes.  
Understanding and compassion.  Aragorn had set himself up as the elf prince’s 
fierce protector during those long, hellish, hopeless days in Mordor; that would 
not be easy for the human to let go of now that it was no longer necessary.  

“Yes, again.”  Aragorn’s voice was now only faintly edged with tension.

With a small smile Legolas laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “It is well. 
I am fine, although you scared the life right out of me.  If he had been an 
attacker I should fear for *him* with you about.”  The elf joked softly, trying 
to bring a smile to the ranger’s face.  His attempts were rewarded as Aragorn 
smiled and shook his head, wrapping his hand around the elf’s arm and giving a 
tight squeeze before he turned back to the others who were busy conversing with 
the elven twins.

“Aragorn!” Elladan looked up from the conversation, “You must hear this.”

The two friends quickly crossed the distance between themselves and the knot of 
rangers that were talking quietly to the elves.

“They say it is a wight.”  A younger ranger to Halbarad’s left spoke up.

“Arendur, Elrohir was not challenging you, merely questioning.” The leader of 
the rangers deferred almost imperceptibly to Aragorn as the Dùnadan joined the 
circle, stepping aside lightly to allow him in.  “Though the barrow-wights are 
never up to any good, you are correct Elrohir, it is highly unlike that it is 
them.”

“You speak of barrow-wights?”  Aragorn questioned, joining them in the middle of 
the conversation.  His question was directed to Halbarad but he glanced around 
the group of men curiously, noting the ones he recognized.  His gaze landing 
lastly on Legolas.

“Yes.”  Halbarad’s statement redirected Aragorn’s attention and he raised an 
eyebrow in question, urging the other ranger on.  “In the hills east of the 
Shire there has been suspicious activity among the Barrow Downs, or so they say. 
People have gone missing, Hobbits have been taken from the paths that cross 
near there.  All of the little folk have been freed but their possessions are 
gone.  Rumor has it that a few of the humans who have disappeared have never 
been found.  Even animals have been reported as stolen.”

“That does not sound like the scheming of a wight.”  Legolas offered softly.

“No, it is highly unusual, but the folk around there are adamant that the 
barrow-wights have been stirred up.  There are even stories flying about that 
the wraiths have returned and are searching the area, taking people as slaves 
for Mordor.”

Legolas shuddered involuntarily, his eyes momentarily clouding.

“That is highly unlikely; the wraiths are holed up in Mordor itself.  Or at 
least one of them.”  Aragorn didn’t offer how he knew that information, he 
simply made the statement, ignoring Halbarad’s unspoken question.

When the Dunadan was not forthcoming, Halbarad nodded in understanding and 
continued, “Others believe that it is highwaymen.  Whatever the cause, it is an 
evil venture and it needs to be stopped.  Someone must find out what is at the 
root of the disappearances and thievery.  If it is the barrow wights then we 
will need more help than simply elves or rangers have to offer.”

“Are you headed there now?”  Elladan asked from the far side of the ring.

Halbarad cast his gaze to the forest floor, hesitant to continue, “Actually that 
was why we came.”  The ranger met Aragorn’s eyes finally.  “Our numbers have 
lessened the past fifteen years that you have been gone.  These are all that 
remain of my camp.  We were on our way to combine our forces with another 
encampment when word was brought to us of the goings on in the Downs.  The wars 
on the borders of Gondor and Ithilien have drawn away some of our number, 
stretching us thin, and the constant increase in reports of orcs and wargs have 
kept the rest of us busy.  There are none that I can spare to keep watch over 
the south farthing let alone the eastern downs.  I was hoping that since you 
were back...”  Halbarad let the question hang between him and the younger man.  
He had heard some of what had happened to Aragorn during his stay in Gondor and 
then the rumors that the ranger had passed into Mordor, following Legolas.  He 
was not sure that the man would want to take up the challenge so soon to 
returning home.  He knew he wouldn’t.

“If there were any one else I could trust, I would ask them first.”  Halbarad’s 
voice dropped so that the request suddenly became a thing between the two of 
them alone.  “If you would rather not, since you have just returned I would 
completely understand...”

The older ranger stopped speaking as a wide smile crossed Aragorn’s face.  The 
man who he realized was no longer young stepped closer to him and grasped his 
arm.  “You do not need to worry Halbarad.  I will go and look into this and if 
it is a barrow wight I know just whom I will call upon to help in the matter.  
If it is others then that person or persons will be dealt with but it will 
stop.” He reassured.

“I’ll accompany you.”  Legolas offered.

“And we’re coming too!” Elrohir called to his younger brother.

“You hate the barrows.”  Elladan frowned, glancing at his twin.  “You said they 
were more frightening than...”

“Shut up Elladan.”  Elrohir viciously jabbed his brother, silencing him as the 
rangers turned to stare at the two elves.  The twin’s face reddened slightly as 
he barely caught the soft snickers of the men around him.

“There, see.”  Aragorn laughed returning his attention to Halbarad, “It’s all 
taken care of.  We’ll leave tomorrow at first light. But first please be our 
guests tonight.  Father would love to have you spend dinner with us, he so 
enjoys hearing what you have been up to.  Besides,” Aragorn grimaced and pointed 
at the red welt that had formed around the other ranger’s neck, “I feel I owe 
you for that nasty bruise you are going to have.  I am so sorry Halbarad, I 
truly did not recognize you.”

The ranger’s deep booming laugh filled the meadow, “Oh Aragorn, if you could 
have seen my face when you snuck up on me from behind.  I remember the days when 
you could never pull one over on me.  I am just very glad for Legolas’ help.  
You have grown quite adept in your stalking techniques.  I fear I can teach you 
no more.”

Aragorn’s face reddened and he glanced at the ground, rubbing the back of his 
neck idly with his hand, slightly embarrassed at the mention of how terribly 
loud he used to be when in the wilds.

“Well perhaps you can still teach me how it is that we have passed fifteen years 
and you look the same as you did when last I saw you.” Aragorn swatted at the 
long locks of dark hair that fell about the other ranger’s shoulders, “Why if it 
weren’t for that graying in your hair I would never have known the years had 
passed at all.”

Halbarad feinted at the younger man.  “Why you...”  He laughed as Aragorn ducked 
and pushed Legolas forward, “You’re a fine one to talk.  Not all of us were born 
with Númenorean blood in our veins.  And I’ll have you know the wear of the 
years shows in you as well, if not so much.”  He followed as Aragorn began to 
lead them back toward the rift that Rivendell had been built into. “I see you’ve 
a few new scars to flaunt for the ladies.”

Choking on his laughter, Aragorn cast a quick glance over his shoulder, “And you 
are as bad as Elladan.  Come, we were just breaking for food.  Let us return 
home, perhaps Celboril will be able to scrounge us up something to hold us over 
until dinner.”

The small entourage of men and elves made their way off the mountain, their 
cheerful banter filling the woods as they passed beneath the wide-flung canopy.

 


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The hunger of the guests had been sated and Elrond had invited the rangers to 
remain into the evening and enjoy the hospitality of the Hall of Fire.  Already 
the great room was beginning to fill with elves from the surrounding homes.  
They talked and laughed and sang.  More of them entered the large gathering 
place as the rangers filed in.  Some were producing instruments and in moments 
the Hall filled with music that lifted the heart and hung in the air. It 
reminded one of being outside gazing at the stars, hauntingly beautiful and at 
the same time ageless and old.

The rangers were received warmly and immediately joined the guests, dispersing 
through the room.  There were small pockets of elves and humans recounting tales 
on the east side of the room.  There Elladan and Elrohir could be found trading 
stories with their listeners and trying to out do one another.  

Legolas realized that he recognized few of the elves that filled the hall 
besides Celboril and some of the serving staff that he had become accustomed to 
seeing on his frequent visits.  He followed Aragorn as the human wound his way 
from one side of the great room to the other, greeting neighbors and trading 
news.  It seemed that most of Elrond’s guests were familiar with the elven 
Lord’s human son and warmly welcomed him back.

The Silvan elf was waylaid by Celboril who caught his sleeve and pulled him 
nearer.  The older elf was laughing helplessly and begged the prince to stay.

“You must help me.”  He smiled at the ranger who stood next to him, glowering.  
Halbarad crossed his arms indignantly and glared at the laughing elf. “He sings 
like a love sick elk.  He cannot keep a tune and swears he can.  Help me teach 
this whelp what singing truly sounds like.”

Legolas laughed in spite of himself.  His spirit, still somewhat recovering from 
his time in Mordor was lifted as he glanced between the two beings.

“I do not sing like an elk!” Halbarad sputtered.  “Lesgalwen, play that ballad 
again and we shall let Legolas be the judge of my singing abilities.”

Aragorn, oblivious to his friend’s plight, slowly shifted through the elves 
gathered in his father’s house. It had been years since he had been in the Hall 
of Fire and still it was all he had remembered it to be.  The atmosphere was 
full of mirth and light.  The musical sounds of elven laughter buoyed his own 
flagging spirit as his mind turned to the things they had discussed at dinner 
over and over.  His attention was captured as Lord Elrond entered the room.  His 
father.

The smile that spread unconsciously across his face widened as the elves cheered 
and welcomed the elf Lord into their midst.  It seemed as though all the 
surrounding homes in Imladris had emptied and their inhabitants had gathered 
here for the evening as was so oft their want to do in the Hall of Fire.

Elrond moved easily among the many guests gathered under his roof, serving them 
and seeing to their needs.  The Hall of Fire was indeed large enough to hold 
even more, but the company that gathered tonight was plenty and easily 
entertained themselves.

The servants of the House of Elrond were never required to be such in the Hall 
of Fire.  They served their lord willingly, faithfully by choice and some out of 
familial devotion like Celboril who had known Elrond since his childhood days.  
Never did one of the firstborn serve another under duress and Elrond for his 
part made sure that they were treated as guests at such gatherings.  He handed 
Halbarad a mug of heated wine as he passed by; it looked like the man could use 
it.  The elf lord’s laughter echoed through the hall when Celboril winced as the 
ranger missed a higher note.

Clapping his hand on Legolas’ slender shoulder, the lord of Imladris bent close 
to the Silvan elf, speaking loudly enough for those around to hear as he teased. 
“Please Legolas; teach Halbarad how to sing the Ballad of Elondil before it is 
ruined forever.”

With a laugh and a mock bow the blonde-haired elf acquiesced.  “As you wish my 
lord.”  Legolas had up to this point been simply offering pointers and partially 
taunting Halbarad as Celboril attempted to teach the ranger the elven song, 
refraining from singing the melody himself.

Aragorn, having made his way through the large hall flopped down into one of the 
soft, comfortable chairs that was situated on the far side of the room and 
watched as Legolas began singing.  The Silvan elf’s voice started out softly, 
the notes pure and rich.  The musicians around Legolas picked up the song, their 
instruments a soft, melodic backdrop for the elven voice.  Remembering the words 
more clearly and finding his courage, the elf’s voice strengthened.  He let his 
thoughts infuse the words with the images that he saw in his mind as he closed 
his eyes and the song filled the room, silencing even those in the far corner 
telling tall tales to one another.  Aragorn closed his eyes as well and sank 
into the comfort of the chair, letting the rich elvish words and the sweet notes 
wash over his restless soul.  A smile touched his lips.  Legolas sang like one 
of the famed bards of old, never missing a note and singing with a clear, pure 
voice that the ranger found soothing.

As the song slowly quieted and slipped away the room erupted in cheers, quickly 
falling back into the low buzz of people talking and laughing with one another. 
Stories were picked back up mid-sentence and a dozen different tunes were taken 
up, as more instruments were unpacked.  Clapping Halbarad on the shoulder 
Legolas excused himself and walked slowly through the hall, making his way to 
where Aragorn lay sprawled in a deep soft chair.

The elf seated himself quietly on the large, plush wing, pulling one knee up to 
his chest and resting his chin on it.  Neither friend spoke.  Aragorn had not 
opened his eyes but he knew that the elf had joined him.  He could smell the 
scent that was singularly Legolas and had felt the slight movement of the chair 
as the prince settled himself on the arm.

The warmth of the room and the light-hearted pleasure of good company lulled the 
companions into a state of peace and contentedness.  The fire in the great 
hearth sparked and roared merrily as it was constantly fed.  Aragorn had always 
loved this room, he had found it fascinating as a child to discover that the 
fire was continually kept going and never died out.  In fact, even when the 
Bruinen had jumped its banks, now so many years ago, and the house had been 
almost completely evacuated Celboril had never let the fire go out.

The ranger’s thoughts turned to the past, remembering and embracing once more 
his rich elvish heritage that his adopted father had so willingly and easily 
shared with him.  Oh but in his heart he was elvish, and he silently cursed his 
natural born lineage.  Men.  Thoughts of the men he had known who had served 
under and with him brought mixed feelings and uneasiness filtered quietly back 
into his heart unbidden.

“You are ill at ease on such a pleasant evening.”  The light weight of Legolas’ 
hand on his shoulder stirred the ranger from his reverie, “What troubles you 
Estel?”

For long moments they sat, the elf content to allow the human the time he needed 
to respond.  When he spoke, Aragorn’s voice was soft, meant for the prince’s 
hearing alone.  The words surprised the elf.

“Will you be wanting to leave for home soon?”  Grey eyes finally opened, fixing 
on the silver-blue ones that stared down at the human in surprise.

“I hadn’t given it much thought.”  Legolas replied honestly, for he had not.  
Time was a different matter among elves.  And although he knew Thranduil would 
desire word of his plans if he were able to send it, his accountability to his 
father was not as it had been when he was younger, or as it would have been were 
he human.

Aragorn nodded slowly and looked back to the intricately tiled floor.  He kept 
forgetting that Legolas and his father had a different relationship than he and 
Elrond; due in no small part to the very fact that time was perceived so 
diversely among the races.

“Why do you ask?”  Legolas shifted slightly, turning so the Dùnadan had his full 
attention.  The celebrations in the room were forgotten as the two friends 
talked quietly.  “Do you wish me to leave?”

“No!  I mean... unless you wanted to.”  Aragorn turned in the large chair, 
drawing his feet up onto the cushion and resting them on the arm near Legolas’ 
thigh.  That was exactly the opposite of what he wanted.  “Actually, if you 
don’t mind, I would have you stay on for a time.  Even after we return from the 
Shire I mean.”

“Estel, I had no plans to leave anytime soon.”  The prince glanced up as a party 
of elves passed them by, exiting the large room.  Returning his stare to the 
open gaze of his friend he continued.  “I want to stay...” Legolas words 
faltered and softened and the ranger was forced to concentrate on what he was 
saying, “my heart needs it right now.” The elf lightly touched his chest, his 
thoughts far away.  He loved his home, but Mirkwood in general was no longer a 
place of light, and Legolas wished to linger in the beautiful bliss of Imladris 
for a time before he faced the journey into the dark woods.  

Concern colored Aragorn’s gaze and he started to speak when Legolas glanced up 
at him once more, the shadow of remembrance passing swiftly from the deep blue 
eyes.  “It is good for me to be here with your family, with you and with your 
father.  And if it is also your wish, then I would be more than glad to remain.”

Nodding slowly, it was Aragorn’s turn to shift his gaze anywhere away from the 
searching glance of his friend.  He knew the elf could see into his soul in a 
way that most others never could, never chanced, and weren’t allowed.  Usually 
that was all right, but for some reason it was hard to let the prince see his 
hesitancy, the indecision that warred inside of him.  “Yes, I would that you 
stayed on, but I did not want to keep you if you wished to return to your 
father.”

The light laughter of the elf surprised the ranger and he glanced up quickly, 
confused.

“Oh Aragorn, these months I have been away from my father’s kingdom are as days 
for him.  He will not have missed me so soon although I think I should wish to 
send him word that I am well and staying on in Rivendell.  Truly he has probably 
already guessed.  We have finally accustomed him to our ways mellon-nín,” the 
prince’s laughter was light.  “When he learned I meant to visit you he appointed 
a lieutenant to take over my patrols for an indefinite period of time and 
started making long-term care arrangements for my Ketrals.  He won’t have them 
in the palace when I’m not there.”  Legolas’ hand on Aragorn’s shoulder 
tightened slightly.  “He does not expect me back immediately.  I will stay.”

This was indeed what Aragorn’s heart was questioning that he had not had the 
courage to ask.  He was a leader of men, a captain in the army of Gondor, a man 
raised among elves to be both human and elven, the misgivings of his heart and 
the indecision that plagued his thoughts bothered the ranger.

“Your heart needs the rest too Estel.”  Legolas read past the walls and the 
closed, emotionless face that stared up at him.  “You are weary.  Perhaps... 
perhaps it would be better if we told Halbarad that we cannot go at this time?  
It is no slight to you.”

“No.”  Aragorn didn’t shift his gaze, allowing the elf to see his fears and 
hesitancies, he trusted the prince with his life, with his soul. “No,” he 
repeated with a sigh, “there is not the man power to be spared else wise and the 
inhabitants of Bree and the Shire need help.  Something like this will lock the 
countryside up with fear.  They are simple people Legolas and they have had to 
live with evils such as this for far too long.  If you will go with me I would 
be grateful for your company my friend.  And between you and my brothers I have 
nothing to worry over.”

Legolas gazed up at the ceiling for a moment as though pondering his reply but 
the smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed his thoughts.  His 
hesitancy garnered the desired reaction as Aragorn laughed softly and gave the 
elf a small shove.  

“Yes,” Legolas laughed, dodging the playful smack, “I would enjoy being out with 
you, Estel, and your brothers as well.  It has been a long time since we have 
all traveled together.  It will be exciting for me, as I have never been that 
far west yet.  I would love to go.”  He smiled down at his friend, “And I will 
stay here in Rivendell when we return for as long as you should wish.  There 
isn’t another Yén for a few years and seeing as father and I parted on amicable 
terns for once, I have no pressing reason to return home.”  The elf’s smile 
reached his voice, softening the words in jest.

Aragorn mirrored the smile the elf favored him with and pushed himself up out of 
the deep cushions of the chair.  Extending his hand down he pulled the elf up 
and wrapped his arms around the prince’s slender shoulders.  “Hannon le 
mellon-nín.”  He whispered in Legolas ear.  “That being the case my dear elf, I 
am going to retire for what remains of the evening. I have not the stamina that 
you do and if we leave in the morning I wish to be fresh and ready.”

“Yes!” Legolas shoved the human towards the doorway, “I wish not to have a 
grumpy ranger on my hands.  Nothing is more intolerable!”  

“Prissy elf!”  Aragorn called the old taunt over his shoulder affectionately.

“Filthy human!”  Legolas called back in kind, “Bathe while you are at it!”

The room silenced a degree as the two old friends called the jaded remarks to 
one another.  Aragorn blushed deeply as he glanced at his father, realizing the 
words spoken in jest had been heard by more than just Legolas.  Elrond 
gracefully crossed his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow in question.

“My pardon, gentle beings, but I must take my leave of you.  As my friend has so 
kindly pointed out, I am in need of a bath and a bed!”  The ranger called to 
their guests.  He smiled widely and pointed to the wayward strands of hair that 
fell into his eyes as proof.  His admission brought a round of laughter and a 
good deal of teasing from the other rangers in the room.  The voices of his 
brothers could be heard over the tumult of the cheer and he glanced once more at 
his elven father.  The elf lord’s smile widened and he shook his head fondly.

“Off with you then.” He mouthed silently, “I will be up later.”

With a nod Aragorn turned and left the great hall seeking out the quieter places 
of the Last Homely House.  He hoped his father would wake him even if he had 
fallen asleep by the time Elrond sought him out.  He really needed to talk with 
the older elf.

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART THREE*~

 

 

~~~~~~~~
Unsure of yourself
You stand divided, and now
Which road will lead you there?
Last time you fell and you hit hard
Your wounds have healed by now, 
But you still see your scars.

 

--Three Doors Down
~~~~~~~~

 

Aragorn woke with a small gasp, his body tense as he sat partway up in bed.  
Elrond was seated in the large comfortable chair that was a permanent fixture in 
the ranger’s room.  The elf lord was gazing out the picture window that took up 
more than half of the far wall.

“Oh.” Aragorn relaxed back against his pillows, “You’re doing it again aren’t 
you?” He asked quietly as the dark eyes turned back to watch him.

Elrond didn’t answer the question, only smiled slightly.  It was true; he had 
been in the young human’s room for sometime now, watching his youngest son 
sleeping.  Aragorn glanced over the blankets scrunched in a ridge near his face 
and saw his small shell night-light burning brightly on the mantle. It had been 
refilled and its wick was trimmed.  He knew the light was for him should he 
wake, as the elf lord needed no aid in seeing in the dark.

The house was quiet within.  The sounds of laughter and celebrating no longer 
filtered up the steps to reach the sleeping rooms.

“Is Legolas asleep?”

“Yes.”  Elrond’s smile widened. “He had quite a good time tormenting your 
brothers by telling stories about them to our guests.  Moranuen even pitched in 
to aide him.” The older elf shook his head as the human laughed softly.

“Oh I can just imagine the response that garnered.”  Aragorn snickered quietly.

“Yes, he was...” Elrond sighed, echoing his son’s laughter as he stifled a laugh 
of his own, “he was very popular among the guests.”

Shifting under the covers, Aragorn propped himself up on his right elbow and 
pushed the wayward strands of hair out of his eyes.  His open shirt hung loosely 
across his chest and he pulled the blankets up a little higher to stave off the 
cool night breezes.  “I just bet he loved that.”

“It did his heart good to talk about lighter times than the ones you both have 
passed through recently.”  Elrond acknowledged quietly.

Aragorn glanced down to his fingers where they lay lightly on the bed sheets, 
twisting the soft linens into intricate swirls. It was a habit he fought hard to 
overcome, but it never failed that when he was nervous or uncertain, he absently 
fiddled with whatever was close at hand.  The silence stretched between them, 
but it was not uncomfortable and Elrond let it persist.

“I was thinking of leaving for the Downs in the morning.”  The ranger’s voice 
was a mere whisper.

Elrond nodded slowly.  His eyes searching the silver ones that slowly glanced up 
to gauge his response.

“I thought you would leave soon.  The wandering heart of a ranger beats in you 
my son.”

“The sooner we are away the more quickly the Bree-landers can be free of this 
threat.”  Aragorn answered as though his decision required an excuse.

“It is well, Estel.”  Elrond smiled softly, holding the tentative gaze the 
ranger laid on him.  He saw the hesitation and the self doubt resting so 
uneasily near the surface of the young human’s soul.  “Your journey should be an 
easy one this time of year.”

Aragorn only nodded, there was more he needed to speak of but he wasn’t sure 
how.

“What else troubles you?”  Elrond could tell that that was not all that bothered 
the man and waited while Aragorn sifted through his thoughts and fears.

“Legolas.”  His gazed flicked up to lock onto the elf lord’s and he allowed the 
immortal to glimpse straight into his soul.

“Ah.”  Elrond let his own gaze drop to his hands as he read past the ranger’s 
statement and into the fears that dogged him about his friend.  “He is healing 
well Estel.  The weakness he was still experiencing when you two arrived has 
faded...”

Yet the statement had been made as though there were more the elf lord wished to 
say and Aragorn picked up quickly on that fact.  “But there is more.”

“His wounds are healed.  He is physically capable of going with you.  Yet what 
troubles me, and I believe what it is that you see in him, are the wounds to his 
soul.  The shadow in his eyes from time to time where a light heart should 
dwell.”

A sigh escaped Aragorn’s lips and he pushed himself into a sitting position.  
Scooting back against the ornate headboard, he pulled his knees to his chest and 
let his head drop down into his hands. 

“And he is not the only one who carries them.” Elrond spoke the statement 
quietly, piercing to the heart of the matter.

“No, he is not.” Aragorn’s agreed, his muffled whisper barely ghosted to the elf 
lord.

Raising his head up and fixing his father with a weary gaze Estel continued, 
“Legolas asked me if we shouldn’t remain and tell Halbarad we couldn’t go at 
this time.  I had entertained the thought for a while before he asked.  I am not 
so sure he isn’t right.”  Aragorn’s gaze swept slowly out to the large window.  
The light of the stars and the full moon bathed the veranda in a pale silvery 
glow.  “If even you have seen that Legolas needs rest, I would not risk going 
now.  I-I do not speak of it to him, but my dreams are still haunted by his 
voice begging me to...” the ranger pressed his eyes closed, cutting those 
memories off.  Elrond already knew all about that.  “If he needs to remain here 
for a time, then I will tell Halbarad in the morning that we cannot help him.  I 
know Legolas will never let me go without him.”

“Did he say he wanted to go?”  Elrond prompted, delving into the matter further 
and forcing Aragorn to look at all the angles before his mind was decided.

“Yes.”  Aragorn smiled as he recalled the conversation, “As a matter of fact I 
think he called it exciting, as he has never been that far west.”

“That I do not doubt.”  Elrond laughed.  “The Silvan elves of his realm have 
rarely traveled the western lands and even that was many eons ago.  My son, I 
will not lie to you.  I worry for the both of you.  Your hearts both bear wounds 
that need time to heal.  But time it seems has chosen to heal you in a way that 
I would not have foreseen.  Perhaps this journey will be good for both of you.” 
He smiled as the tension left the ranger.  This was what the Dunédan had been 
hoping for, either confirmation from his father that his taking leave so soon 
was acceptable or a firm denial that either of them was in any shape to go.  
“However Estel, I cannot be strong enough in my warnings.”  

Elrond shifted from the chair and seated himself on the edge of the bed staring 
hard into the young man’s eyes, “Be very careful of the wights, whether this 
current problem is real or imagined the wights themselves are all too real and 
not to be trifled with.  Use wisdom when you are near the Down’s and Bree, for 
wisdom will be a good ally for you through this. If what you are up against is 
the force of the wights it is possible that you will not be successful.  Theirs 
is an ancient and powerful evil that has not been broken since the war with 
Angmar and neither you nor Legolas are in any shape to stand against them.”

He leaned closer, piercing the human with a hard gaze, “Do you understand me 
Estel?  You must not engage them, you must not go near them.  I pray the Valar 
that what you will oppose is only of the mortal kind.  If you need help and this 
task is more than you are ready for, send one of your brothers back and I will 
see that assistance finds you quickly.  Do *not* attempt to deal with real 
wights on your own.”

A small smile crept across the ranger’s face as he stared in the blue eyes that 
were fixed on him so seriously and Elrond couldn’t help but see the child in him 
still.  “Oh Ada, it is good that someone still worries about me even though I am 
in my forties.”

With a snort of laughter the elf lord shook his head, “Child.” He said fondly, 
“Your father nears his five thousand and fiftieth celebration of life, if I 
haven’t lost count.  Do not forget that you will always be my son.”

Aragorn ducked his head stifling his laughter, “Please let us not have that 
lecture. I can quote it to you by heart now.”

Elrond wrapped one hand behind the man’s head and pulled him forward wrapping 
him in a light hug, “No lectures then.” Turning his face towards Aragorn’s hair 
he breathed in deeply, smelling that scent that was unique to the human raised 
among elves.  “But heed my warnings; it will lighten my heart for your leaving.”

Pushing back lightly Aragorn stared deeply into the elven eyes, realizing for 
the first time that Elrond actually wanted him to stay.  He had missed having 
his youngest son near, but would not stop the ranger from living his life or 
pursuing his destiny.  “We are coming back here, home, as soon as we are 
through.”  The ranger reassured. “Legolas has agreed to stay on as well.  He 
says he needs it.”

“He does.” Elrond concurred softly.

“Then we will go tomorrow so we can come home sooner and then we will both rest 
until you give us your blessing to do otherwise.”  

“Watch Legolas and do not let him over exert himself in ways that would cause 
him more pain.”  Elrond cautioned, “He is yet a little fragile under the surface 
but will not restrain himself if I know him.  You know of what I speak.  The 
barrows hold a foreboding all their own.”

“I do understand and I will, I promise.”  Aragorn squeezed his father’s arms 
gently.

With a nod Elrond stood and stared down at the human that he considered his 
youngest son, “And I have instructed your brothers to do the same with you.” He 
laughed lightly as the ranger rolled his eyes.

“Father I am an adult...” Aragorn started to protest, although he knew his 
family was well aware of that fact now.

“I would not use that argument near them if I were you.”  The elder elf laughed. 
Leaning down he gently kissed the crown of the ranger’s head.  “Get some sleep 
Estel, morning will come quickly.  Worry not on it tonight, for tonight you can 
sleep in peace.”

“Yes I know, each day brings its own set of worries and burdens.”  Aragorn 
finished the statement.  “Thank you Ada.”

Elrond knew he meant the for elf lord’s blessing and the words of encouragement. 
With a nod the older elf walked to the mantle and extinguished the small 
night-light; the light emanating from him shown softly in the now darkened room. 
“Sleep well my Estel.”  He whispered as he walked back past the bed bending 
down and gently pulling up the blankets up as Aragorn eased back down under the 
sheets.  The ranger grabbed the elf’s hand and gave it a soft squeeze.

“Sleep well Ada.  I will see you in the morning.” Aragorn whispered as he turned 
over, rolling the blankets tightly about him.

Leaving the room, Elrond paced back down into his study, his heart preoccupied 
with the conversation he had just had. In all truth he had hoped that Estel 
would remain for a while, but he understood the necessity of their leave taking. 
With a sigh he contented himself in knowing that they would soon return once 
more.

Behind him, the glow globes were quietly put out as Celboril followed in his 
lord’s wake.  The house was once more cleaned and in order and the fire in the 
great hall sparked merrily in the empty room.  It had been Celboril’s job and 
his pleasure to keep the rooms of Imladris since Elrond had first built it in 
the valley so many ages past.  The old elf had been a servant of Elrond’s 
adoptive father Gil-Galad and had remained with the son to oversee and help him 
much as he had done for years beyond remembering - it was his life’s joy to 
serve and he did it well.

Celboril knew his lord’s moods and needs and was ready, knowing that the elf he 
served would soon be asking for warmed tea.  He stopped at Elrond’s room and 
turned the bed sheets down, starting a small fire in the fireplace before 
quickly descending the steps and seeking out Elrond.  He had not heard the quiet 
conversations the elf lord had had with his son but he knew that the two 
youngest inhabitants of the house were leaving in the morning and the home just 
hadn’t been the same with out them for all the long years Aragorn had been away. 
He hoped they would accomplish their task quickly and return even more swiftly.

“Celboril?”  The soft call pulled the servant out of his reverie and he hastened 
into the study.  The elder elf smiled.  The tea water was already warming.  

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

They had followed the Great East Road for many leagues.  The hill countries had 
eventually given way to the open meadows of the Lone-Lands and the ranger 
followed his companions, glad for once to be simply led and not leading.  Slowly 
the death grip of the daily stress he had been under since his decision to leave 
Gondor was slipping away.  Likewise he had noticed that Legolas seemed to have 
recovered fairly well as the elf laughed lightheartedly at something Elrohir had 
said.  The prince glanced back at the human and shook his head in denial.  In 
all truth Aragorn hadn’t been paying attention, his own thoughts drifting on the 
winds that brushed against them as they kept up the steady pace ever westward 
towards the Shire.

He honestly hadn’t heard whatever it was that had caused the elves to break out 
laughing, but the mirth that danced in the blue eyes that watched him brought a 
smile to his face.  It was a long time that he had worried about the prince on 
their return home to Rivendell and even for the weeks they had stayed on, there 
was a shadow that had hung over the prince.  He had tried to hide it but Aragorn 
knew him too well and it was not lost on the Elf Lord either.  Elrond had told 
Aragorn to give Legolas time and space to heal and despite the concerns he 
voiced last night, the healer was convinced the elf’s spirit was well on its way 
to returning to its former brilliance.  

He was been right.

Aragorn caught up with Legolas and questioned Elladan as they entered another 
sloping vale that ran parallel to a tributary off of the Mitheithel.  He could 
hear its waters now slowed to a mere stream just over the next rise.  

Looking out upon the valley they were walking through, Aragorn noted how the 
wind rippled through the long grasses, brushing the fields of green in invisible 
waves in the early evening light.  From the midst of the flat plain rose the 
remnants of the watchtower of Amon Sûl, known in the common tongue as 
Weathertop.  Its ragged ruins reached into the sky with jagged tips that seemed 
to rake the clouds passing over head, fingering them into ribbons that streaked 
the evening canopy.

The old tower stood atop a hill of stone, weather beaten, broken and covered 
with grasses and moss that decorated its torn heights in the shades of early 
spring.  That it stood at all was testimony to its makers.  The tower had seen 
much in the long eons that had passed it by.  

“Amon Sûl.”  Elladan whispered almost reverently when the magnificent ruins came 
into sight.

With a small nod of acknowledgement Elrohir walked on next to his twin.

Legolas however was forced to stop abruptly, nearly running into Estel.  The 
ranger stood staring at the remnants of the heights.  His gaze transfixed on the 
ruins.  Here and there burn marks scorched the tallest reaches where lighting 
had struck the old tower throughout the years as spring storms had passed this 
way.  The grasses adorned its broken down sides like a comfortable garment 
thrown across the shoulders of its upper reaches, the living greenery finding 
the oddest places to grow from in the rocky ledges.  The fading sunlight bathed 
the lower level in a bright warm glow as the sun shown through the bottom layer 
of clouds on its way to its evening rest.  To Aragorn it held an instant kinship 
to his weary worn heart.

Broken, battle scarred, a power forgotten...laid aside.

The human breathed in deeply, catching the rich smells of the meadow; the 
grasses that left a heady scent when crushed underfoot, the sweet aroma of the 
wildflowers that grew in bunches across the valley decorating the grassy floor 
with their vibrant colors and the slight smell of old stone that has too long 
been untouched by human life, musty and full of the very earth itself.  It spoke 
to him of strength and he closed his eyes as he allowed all the memories and 
thoughts to assault him.

“Estel?”  Legolas was glancing nervously between the ranger who seemed riveted 
to this place and his brothers who were walking swiftly back towards them.

“What is it?”  Elrohir questioned as they strode back towards the two friends.  
Elladan grasped the ranger’s shoulder and shook him gently.

“Estel?”

When he opened his eyes he was still looking at the tower.  “It is old.” He 
stated the obvious quietly, oblivious to the odd stares, “What happened to it?”

Elladan glanced over his shoulder at the ruins, “Amon Sûl?”

“Yes.” Aragorn focused on the oldest twin.

Elrohir turned, watching the remnants, wondering what had so fascinated the 
human.  “It was a watch tower, many years ago.”

“A magnificent one.” Elladan chimed in, “It is said that it was built by Elendil 
in the early years of Arnor when this land at that time lay in the central parts 
of Elendil’s domain.  The tower housed a palantir at one time, although what 
happened to the seeing stone has long been lost to history.  They say that it 
was once beautiful here.”

“Why is it in ruins?”  The ranger pressed.

“I heard there was a war.”  Legolas stepped up and glanced around Elrohir.

“Many actually.”  Elladan continued.  “But the last was the worst.  The 
watchtower was nearly torn down.  The invading armies of Angmar destroyed it.  
When Arnor broke up, the tower was abandoned in the borderlands and exposed to 
the enemy’s invasions.  They brought it to ruin before they were beaten back 
themselves. Only what you see remains, its caretakers were never found.”

A deep sigh escaped the human’s lips as he tried to imagine what the tower had 
once looked like in its days of glory.  Now, only a shell of its former dignity 
remained.  Stripped by war and violence, the watchtower had been left to the 
wilds and here finally it had become a part of them.  Its walls and stairways 
tucked into the crevices of the stone hill were covered like the valley floor in 
one sweeping carpet of green, abandoned, forgotten - instead of standing out 
from the land around it, the tower blended with its surroundings.

“It has seen much war.”  Aragorn whispered softly, “And it now has rest. You can 
feel it.”  He glanced at the elves that were watching him oddly.

It surprised Legolas that the human could indeed sense the deep ancient 
tranquility that filled the basin in which they walked, the touches of evil from 
Angmar were nearly dissipated now.  Usually that closeness with nature was 
reserved for the elves, but somehow Aragorn’s time among the men had intensified 
his awareness and his upbringing had made him more sensitive to his 
surroundings.  

Perhaps it was merely the traces of the elveness in his blood but Aragorn 
*could* feel this place in a way he never had been able to anywhere else but 
Imladris.  The sorrowful wounded places in his heart echoed the taint of war 
that still clung to the stone spires piercing the sky and the empty weariness 
inside of him was filled with the peace of the valley; it touched him like 
Rivendell always did whenever he came home.  He couldn’t quite explain it.

Suddenly he realized that was the feeling, like home, “It feels familiar 
somehow.”  He spoke out loud as he pressed by Elladan and strode towards the 
ruins.  The older twin shrugged and followed the human as the elves glanced 
between themselves.  Perhaps the heir of Elendil could still feel at home in 
Elendil’s ruins, even if he thought he wanted no part of that heritage.  

“Let us camp in its lower levels tonight.”  Aragorn turned back to his brothers.

“You don’t find it a bit creepy Estel?”  Legolas taunted the ranger, emphasizing 
the unusual word the human had used to describe Orthanc so many years ago as he 
eyed the tower hesitantly.

Rolling his eyes Aragorn glanced over his shoulder as the elf prince gained his 
side, “No, I do not.  Saruman doesn’t live here for one thing and there are no 
orcs about.” 

“Orcs?”  Elrohir repeated curiously, grimacing at the mention of the foul 
beasts.

Legolas stammered, half laughing, trying to protest but was stopped as the 
ranger continued, “Besides, whoever created this place obviously was not the 
same person who dreamed up that nightmare of a tower our good friend the White 
Wizard calls home.  And do not tell me that you were not unnerved by it either. 
You did meet me in the hall on the way to my room because you couldn’t sleep by 
yourself as I recall.”

“WHAT!?” The twins questioned at the same time.  This was a story they had never 
heard and Elrohir began to laugh.  “You wouldn’t sleep in your own room?” He 
teased Legolas.

“There was more to it than that!” The elf prince gave the ranger a good shove as 
they walked up to the lower staircase.  The hewn rocks were covered in moss and 
blended in perfectly with the grass-covered hill on either side of them. “Why 
don’t you ask your brother *why* it was I found him in the hallway and where he 
was headed?”

Aragorn scowled at the elf playfully, lightly jumping up the first few steps and 
turning to gaze back on his companions.  He tried to hide the smile that pulled 
at the edges of his lips but was unsuccessful. “I was looking for you.” He 
answered avoiding the whole truth.

“He was carrying his pillow and blanket and would not sleep in his own room.”  
Legolas filled in the details as the twins stared incredulously at their younger 
brother before breaking out laughing.

“Your pillow?” Elrohir echoed.

“Do you have to repeat everything that is said to you?!”  Aragorn raced up the 
next few steps waiting for the elves to catch up with him.

“And that wasn’t the half of it.” The elf prince ducked as the ranger threw a 
small stone at him.

“Legolas.”  The human growled trying to stop the elf from continuing with the 
story.

“No, let him.  I can’t wait to hear the rest!”  Elladan pushed past Elrohir and 
ascended the steps on Legolas’ heels.  “What more is there? Do tell.”

“Well your brother, the ranger, wouldn’t sleep on the bed but he slept on the 
floor between the bed and the wall so whomever he believed was coming in would 
get to me first!”

Aragorn swiveled on his heels as he reached the lowest landing and glared at the 
helplessly laughing elves.  An archway set in the very stone itself led to the 
main floor of the tower but the human favored the landing for the view of the 
valley that it lent.  He fixed his oldest brother with a serious stare, “You 
should have seen the manservant, I swear Elladan he was no man!  He was...” the 
ranger stalled and quirked his mouth, barely stopping from saying the word.

“He was creepy!” Legolas finished the sentence, turning huge wide eyes on the 
elves and shuddering as if in fright.  He had had an irritating fascination with 
that somewhat plebian sounding word since the first time Aragorn had introduced 
it into his vocabulary.  

“Well he was!”  Aragorn defended himself as he gathered the small sticks and 
bramble that had collected in the concave area, swept there by the winds that 
would scour the valley from time to time.  They would make good kindling for a 
fire.

Elladan gave the prince a friendly shove forward as they all spilled out onto 
the ledge where Aragorn was crouched down, flint in hand, trying to start a fire 
and ignore his family and his friend.  In the end the lightheartedness of the 
elves was contagious.  He shook his head, pointing the tip of the branch he was 
feeding to the small flame with at the elven prince, “I am telling you there are 
hiding orcs in that dark tower *somewhere* and I’ll not be going back there 
anytime soon no matter what you say or do to me.”

His admission sent the elves into another fit of mirth as they dropped to the 
ground around the small blaze.  

“Saruman the White not knowing of orcs in his own tower!  Now that *is* a 
thought worthy of laughter!” Elrohir chuckled.  

The warm light filled the concave where they sat and Weathertop basked in the 
glow of the friendly banter long into the night.

Legolas walked to the edge of the landing and seated himself next to Aragorn.  
The human was sitting on the lip of the precipice, his booted heels kicking the 
rock wall below them as he scanned the moonlit valley of the Lone-Lands.

“Not tired?”  The elf whispered softly.

“No.”  Aragorn yawned around a smile, his weariness betraying him. 

“Why don’t you get some sleep?  Your brothers are already resting.”  Legolas 
eyed the human out of the corner of his eyes watching him carefully.

“I can’t sleep. I am tired but I can’t get my thoughts to quiet down.”

“What troubles you?”

Aragorn picked at a weed that grew up between the rocks near his thigh as he 
thought.  He tossed the bits of grass over the ledge into the darkness before he 
answered watching them catch on the wind and loosing them in the night.

“Do you believe that a wight is responsible for the happenings near the Barrow 
Downs?”  He had been thinking on the things Halbarad had told them and weighing 
the theories that the ranger had reported.

“I do not know what to believe.  We will have to wait until we get there to see 
if we can discover what has happened.  There is nothing good about a barrow 
wight Aragorn.  From what little I know, they are wholly evil and the wickedness 
that has been done near the Downs would not be beyond them.” 

With a sigh Aragorn turned to face Legolas, his eyes locking onto the blue ones 
that questioned him.  It struck him as odd how very young the elf looked in the 
moonlight, his own glow enhanced by the soft illumination of the night.  The 
prince didn’t even retain the scars from their recent journey home, although 
Aragorn’s faintly decorated him still.

“In my heart I am not sure that I am ready for this.  There is a part of me that 
wishes to simply reside in Imladris and let the world pass me by until the end 
of my days.  If I never see another war or am never called to be a leader or 
assume my heritage I am not sure at this point that it would disappoint me.”  
Aragorn laid his fears before his friend, surprised when the elf smiled softly 
at him.

“I know what you mean.”  Legolas lay back on the stone ledge and gazed up at the 
stars overhead.  “I have felt that way.  When your father rescued me from 
Dorolyn I never wanted to leave Mirkwood again. I did not care if I ever met 
another human being for as long I lived and if the world outside the borders of 
our woods fell then I would have not missed them.  I hid for nearly three 
thousand years.”

The elf laughed when the ranger quirked his eye brows at his admission.  Aragorn 
leaned back next to his friend resting on his left elbow as the prince 
continued.

“All right then, maybe three thousand years is a bit of a stretch but it was at 
least three times your lifetime before I even ventured out into the world again, 
even in our my own land.  Going beyond that was something I resisted for even 
longer, especially without companions.  That night you fell into my life was 
just about the first time I had left our borders alone since Dorolyn.”  Legolas’ 
gaze was far away accompanying his thoughts.  “Elves have the years to spend 
Aragorn when they want to hide, humans do not.”  The prince turned his eyes from 
the night sky and pierced his friend with an open stare.  “But human hearts 
recover more quickly than do ours.  You are gifted with the ability to forget, 
time fades the sting of your wounds, but our memories carry on with us.”

Dropping his gaze, Aragorn turned back to stare into the inky darkness of the 
night around them.  After a few moments a soft touch to his arm redirected his 
attention and he looked down at his friend.

“Give yourself time.  The memories you carry may never go away, but they will be 
replaced by others soon enough.  It is the way of life.”  Legolas knew of what 
he spoke and it was advice he himself was taking to heart.  His recent captivity 
in Mordor had marked him, marked him deeply... but he had recovered from horror 
before and he knew that the pain, no matter how deep, would not last forever if 
he did not allow it to do so.

Aragorn laughed softly, “You sound like my father.”

“His is a wise man, you should listen to him.”  Legolas closed his eyes a smile 
tugging at his lips.

“Now I *know* that you have speaking with him!”  Aragorn gave the elf a playful 
shove as he flopped back down on the ground next to his friend releasing a weary 
sigh.  He gazed up at the stars that twinkled in the garment of night.

“It was hard to see Eärendil in Gondor.”  Aragorn commented softly.

A small snort of laughter caused him to roll his head towards his friend and 
stare at the elf.

Legolas was smiling as he gazed at the bright star, “It was *hard* to see 
Eärendil in Mordor.”

For some reason the statement struck the ranger as funny and he tried to 
suppress his laughter, not wanting to wake his brothers.  His attempts to quiet 
himself set the prince off and in moments they were both watching the winking 
pinpoint of light and laughing.

Legolas elbowed the human as they quieted.  “Go to sleep Aragorn.  You have many 
years yet before you need worry about the troubles of this world.  Let us enjoy 
this time with your brothers.”

Aragorn nodded wordlessly as they lay side by side staring up at the stars, he 
knew Legolas was right and he realized that he just needed someone to say it out 
loud.  When he finally spoke his voice was soft, thinking his companion might be 
sleeping, “You just want to trade stories with them.”  

The quiet statement set the elf to laughing and he smacked the ranger, turning 
over on his side and rolling up in his cloak, “Now go to sleep Strider, you are 
intolerable when you are grumpy and I will not suffer you to be tired in the 
morning.”

With a snort of derision Aragorn placed his hands behind his head, crossing his 
boots at the ankles and stared into the sky a smile on his face until sleep 
stole him away.

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART FOUR*~

 

 

The sun warmed the mid-day sky as the small party of elves and rangers left the 
Lone Lands and Weather Top behind them.  Halbarad and Arendur had re-joined them 
earlier in the morning, reporting that the other rangers they had sought out and 
spoken with had no more information on the alleged Barrow-Wight threat.  

They were making towards Bree at a good clip when Aragorn held up his hand, 
signaling a stop.  The high fen and uncut grasses waving on either side of the 
road tossed lightly in the gentle breeze, but there was some stir in them that 
was not put there by the wind.  Someone or something was hiding nearby.  

Aragorn’s battle instincts came immediately to the front of his consciousness, 
wary of ambush.  Halbarad had been talking to Arendur and had not noted the 
possible threat, but halted when Aragorn did, looking around.  

The elves, a little ahead of their human companions, had also sensed something 
amiss and quickly backtracked up the road without needing a signal from Aragorn. 
Elladan and Elrohir drew their bows and concealed themselves around the bend in 
the path while Legolas joined the men.

The elf prince slid to his friend’s side.  “There’s something out there,” he 
whispered to Aragorn, but his expression was not one of alarm, rather of 
puzzlement.  “I do not sense evil... but I do not know what it is.”

A small rustle on their left made them look up sharply once more.  Despite what 
he sensed or didn’t sense, Legolas’ fingers went to his bowstring, just in case. 
 
But Halbarad’s brows furrowed and he lowered the sword he had drawn.  “I think 
we are overly watchful my friends, ‘tis a small creature or I’m no scout.  Most 
likely a badger or hedgehog of some sort.”

“Badger or hedgehog indeed!” an indignant voice spoke up from somewhere below 
the normal eyesight level of the men and elves present.  They all looked down in 
surprise as a small man stepped out of the grass, brushing off his already tidy 
green waistcoat with a sense of injured dignity.  No, it wasn’t a small man, one 
look at the broad bare feet and the round cheerful face told you that.  This was 
a hobbit.  And one who was quite far from home which was not usual for their 
kind.

Legolas just stared, surprised and a little curious.  He alone in the party had 
never seen one of this race before.  “What is it?” he remarked in wonder without 
thinking much about how that sounded.

“*IT* is a hobbit good sir,” the small, curly-headed being huffed a little more. 
 “And I would have expected a bit more courtesy from one of the firstborn.” The 
hobbit’s bright eyes narrowed inquisitively.  “But then you’re not from around 
here are you?  You’re wearing Rivendell clothes... more or less... but you look 
Silvan to me.  However, I feel as if I’ve seen you before... bother, I can’t 
place it.  Memory is one of the first things to go they say.”

Aragorn almost laughed.  He had forgotten that although Legolas had spent a 
great deal of time in Rivendell since they became friends, the wood-elf had 
never had occasion to come this far west or to cross paths with any of the local 
hobbit population before.  “And what, pray tell, is a hobbit of the Shire doing 
so far from home, alone, and, forgive me for saying it, hiding in the grass like 
an egg poacher?” Aragorn asked with good humor, sheathing his sword while the 
other rangers did the same.

“Egg poacher!” The hobbit bristled slightly.  “Never done such a thing in my 
life.  I was just being cautious if you want to know.  Not all the big folk one 
meets out here are to be trusted.  When I heard the elf I figured it was safe to 
come out.  Bad men generally do not associate with the firstborn.  I see that 
there’s no rule regarding *rude* men however... who are you anyway?”  The 
question was directed at Aragorn.  

“I’m a Dúnadan my good hobbit, a ranger.  You have naught to fear from us I 
promise.  I apologize if I have insulted you, it was not my intent but you gave 
us rather a start I fear,” Aragorn bowed slightly as he introduced himself, 
sweeping his arm out to the side in a gesture for peace.  He was a little 
surprised at this hobbit’s knowledge about elves.  Few these days outside the 
rangers had much to do with elves or elvish lore.

Elladan and Elrohir, hearing the conversation gave up their hiding place and 
re-joined their friends.  Their gaze lighted on the hobbit with amusement.  
“Mister Baggins, we didn’t expect to meet you out here.  Not on your way to 
Rivendell to commandeer father’s library again are you?” they jested.  

Aragorn raised his eyebrows as he turned to his brothers.  “You know him?”

Elrohir nodded.  “Of course we do, and so do you Estel although you may not 
remember.  First came through Rivendell years ago when you were about ten I 
guess, dragging a whole lot of dwarves with wagging beards and tired ponies... 
what a merry sight they were!  Surely you must remember something, Gandalf was 
with them and they talked to father quite a long time.”

Vague remembrance filtered slowly through Aragorn’s mind.  But it was a long 
time ago for him and he had been only a child.  

“Estel is it?” Bilbo eyed the ranger.  His many visits to Rivendell gave him 
cause to know that name even if he had not met the man in many years.  

“Bilbo here has been quite a frequent visitor to Rivendell these past few years 
since you’ve been gone,” Elladan further explained.  “Always trying to pick 
father’s brain for stories of the elder days and spending hours translating and 
pouring over old texts that I will admit not even I find an interest in.”

“I don’t know where the world is going these days, when young people no longer 
take an interest in their own history...” Bilbo shook his head sagely, but with 
an impish smile.

“Young people?” The twins laughed.  “You should talk Bilbo, we’re both of us far 
older than you even if you are getting old now for a hobbit...” 

“Oh so getting old now am I?” Bilbo laughed despite himself.  “Well then looking 
at young Estel here I *do* feel old... excuse me, Dúnadan if you prefer that 
name,” the hobbit smiled at Aragorn.  “I don’t really remember you I fear, but 
at the time we seem to have met I had... many other things on my mind, but I 
know your brothers and look forward to making your acquaintance.”  Bilbo shook 
Aragorn’s hand.

“Well now we all know who each other is, but that doesn’t tell us what you are 
doing out here Mr. Baggins,” Halbarad pointed out.

“Bilbo, please, no need to stand on formalities among friends.  Actually my trip 
is quite pointless now as I was on my way to Rivendell to bring tidings of these 
odd doings around the Barrows.  Creating quite a stir in the four farthings it 
is and I said to myself that if anyone knows about the ancient things in these 
parts, it’s the elves.”

Legolas smiled.  “And how do you know that is our errand?”

Bilbo flushed slightly.  “Well I couldn’t help overhearing you talk as you came 
on...”

Aragorn laughed.  “Not an egg poacher then, but a spy.  But well met it seems.  
What can *you* tell us of this whole troublesome business?”

“Not much I fear,” the hobbit shook his head.  “Just that there is a 
considerable to-do about it all.  Folks as far away from the Downs as Bree and 
the Shire are afraid to go out at night.”

“Did you not pass through them on your way out here?” Elladan inquired.  

“Certainly not!” Bilbo shook his head.  “Do I look like a fool?  I bypassed the 
Old Forest and the Downs entirely.  But folks are talking.”

“Well, it seems that the mystery still looms before us then, and we had best be 
on our way again,” Aragorn glanced towards the west and their goal, still many 
miles away.  “Will you be accompanying us then Bilbo, or going on to Rivendell?”

“I have quite enough work on my book waiting for me at home, I need no more at 
present, therefore, I shall accompany you,” the hobbit said decidedly.  “As far 
as Bree anyway.  If there *is* anything out there in those dreadful Barrows I 
certainly don’t want to meet them.  I’ll have quite enough of a mystery on my 
hands trying to figure out where I know you from Mr...” he nodded towards 
Legolas and waited to be supplied with a name.  

“Legolas, son of Thranduil of Mirkwood,” Legolas bowed slightly.  

“Ah!  Well now that explains it,” the hobbit seemed relieved.  “A wood-elf, I 
should have guessed.  I probably saw you at the battle of the Five Armies with 
your father.  And if not, you do look remarkably like your father, that hair 
isn’t too typical for your people.”  He left out the part about having been an 
uninvited guest in Legolas’ home for quite a long time without the wood-elves’ 
knowledge. 

Legolas laughed.  “Well Mr. Baggins, you certainly do seem to get around.  I 
cannot ever recall having seen you before, but your name is familiar although I 
knew not the manner of being to which it belonged.  My father still wears the 
gift you gave him on high occasions; I am honored to make your acquaintance.”

Halbarad and Arendur were quite a ways ahead by now and stopped to call back to 
the rest of the slow moving party.  “Are all of you going to stand around and 
chat the whole day or are we moving foreword?”  The elder ranger teased.

“Coming Halbarad, we’re coming,” Aragorn called back as they moved onward.  

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Bilbo sat upon a downed tree trunk that had been pulled near the brightly 
burning fire, listening to the men and elves discuss their next move.  They were 
just on the outskirts of Bree, having made camp in the forests that bracketed 
the eastern most parts of the fenced in town.

“No, I want to go into Bree.  I believe we can learn a lot from the townsfolk 
and this is the perfect time.”  Aragorn glanced between Legolas and Halbarad.

The older ranger shook his head, a wry smile crossing his face.  “Don’t tell me 
you are going to drag these elves in there with you.  I know what you’re 
thinking Strider and it has promise but you know the risk.  No one will talk to 
you and they surely will not speak to three elves.”

“I don’t need any of them to talk *to* me, I just need them to be talking.”  The 
younger man argued his point.

“You aren’t thinking of...” Legolas eyed Aragorn suspiciously his eyes narrowing 
as the ranger turned a brilliant smile on him.  “You are.” With a sigh the elf 
turned and walked back to the fire, dropping down next to the Hobbit.

“What?  He’s thinking of what?”  Elladan moved closer into the midst of the 
conversation.

“Don’t ask.  I’m staying here Strider.”  Legolas called out to the
man as he tossed another fallen branch onto the flames.

“Oh no you are not.”  Aragorn turned towards the prince. “I need those ears of 
yours my friend.”  He laughed softly as the elf glared at him.

“You have two other elves to torment with your insane plans.  Pick one of them. 
I hate those places.”  Legolas begged to be released but the ranger simply shook 
his head.  Aragorn depended too much on Legolas and knew that the environment 
they were heading into would not toss off the elf.  Although the prince would 
have liked to deny it, after their time in Harad he had more experience blending 
with humans than most elves.  Estel trusted his brothers implicitly, but he 
wanted Legolas at his back too.

Arendur’s laughter redirected Aragorn’s attention and he raised his eyebrows in 
question.  “You think I am insane as well?” he questioned the younger man.

“I think,” Arendur replied as he retrieved his weapons from were they rested 
against a nearby tree, “that I will accompany Halbarad to the Downs and see if 
we can verify any of these strange reports we have received.”

“It’ll be safer there.” Halbarad whispered loudly as he pulled his companion 
with him, heading for the mist-shrouded hills on the far side of Bree.

“Wait!” Bilbo jumped up from his perch near the fire.  Thus far he had quietly 
tried to keep up with the conversation, but a nagging fear had gotten the best 
of him and he interrupted the plans.  “You don’t mean to leave me here alone do 
you?  I mean...well its just...” the small being stuttered slightly, trying to 
make his request known without appearing to be afraid, even though he truly was. 
“I mean you’re not just all going to go off now are you?”  He finished off his 
question quietly his voice falling soft as he spoke.

Aragorn responded first, his compassion for the small being caught at his heart. 
Of course the Hobbit would be afraid.  He had been on his way to Rivendell for 
help.  Crossing the camp in a few paces, the ranger dropped down in front of 
Bilbo on one knee, putting himself eyelevel with the hobbit, his eyes locked 
onto the dark ones that watched him cautiously.  

“I had no intentions at all of leaving you here alone.  One of my brothers will 
stay in camp with you.  Your hearing is nearly as good as any elf’s and the two 
of you will be able to keep the fire going and the camp safe.”  Aragorn smiled 
slightly, “How would that be?”  He lowered his voice to keep the conversation 
between himself and the Hobbit, “They are both excellent marksmen, you couldn’t 
be in better hands.”

Straightening slightly the halfling nodded in agreement, “That would do nicely 
thank you.”

Standing to his feet Aragorn glanced over his shoulder at the rangers on the far 
side of camp, “That’s settled.  Shall we?”  Halbarad shook his head slightly 
matching the grin on Aragorn’s face.  “Oh, your coat if you would my friend?” 
Estel reached out towards the older man.

Halbarad knew what the ranger had in mind and he easily removed his over coat 
tossing it towards Aragorn.  The young ranger handed it over to Legolas who 
accepted it without question.

“We’ll see you at first light then.”  Halbarad called back to them. Silently the 
pair left the glen, their passing almost imperceptible even to elven ears.

“That just leaves one thing,” Aragorn glanced at the twins, “Which of you would 
like to stay with Mr. Baggins and which one would like to accompany Legolas and 
me to Bree?”

The twins glanced silently at one another for a few moments as though pondering 
if they wished to choose either.

“I’ll stay with Bilbo then.”  Elrohir spoke quietly; his answer was for his 
brothers ears alone for the moment.

“As you wish El.  Are you sure?”

The elf turned and threw a smile over his shoulder at his younger human brother, 
“I think I am very sure. I have no idea what Estel has in mind for the two of 
you, but I get the distinct feeling that I will be safer here in the hobbit’s 
company.”

“Good choice.”  Legolas muttered, standing to his feet and stretching out his 
hand to Aragorn who was shrugging out of his worn leather coat. “You have no 
idea how glad you will be.”

With a snort of laughter the ranger handed off his coat to the prince who passed 
it to a confused Elladan.  Digging in his pack Aragorn produced a long strip of 
colored cloth - a turban he had borrowed from his father before they had left.  
He had anticipated just such an encounter as tonight would bring.

Elrohir walked around the fire and watched in barely contained mirth as Legolas 
shrugged into Halbarad’s coat.  The human’s scent on the clothing was not strong 
and did not bother him.  He accepted the cloth from Estel and began deftly 
winding the long piece of fabric around his head, binding his tresses up in the 
length.  Wordlessly the prince turned towards Aragorn for his inspection.  This 
was nothing new to the two of them; they had gone through this ritual many times 
in the past by now.  The ranger glanced first at one side of the elf’s head and 
then the other.  Legolas had missed covering up the tip of his left ear and the 
human gently moved a strip of the fabric swath down so that the point was 
concealed.  Satisfied he nodded at the prince, glancing over the elf’s shoulder 
at his older brother who stood wordlessly watching holding the ranger’s coat.

“Now for you.”  Aragorn clasped his friend on the shoulder as he moved past him.

The prince couldn’t help laughing as Elladan backed up slightly, wary of the 
human’s approach.

“What is this Estel?  Where are we going that we can't be known as elves?”  
Elladan took a step farther back from his brother as the man grabbed the coat 
and held it out for the elf to put on.  “I am not putting that thing on.”

“Yes you are.  Because I need you and Legolas and unless you want to attract a 
crowd of gawkers you can't go into the Inn of the Prancing Pony looking as you 
do.”  Aragorn stepped forward, smiling to himself as he remembered Legolas’ very 
similar reaction many years ago.

Elladan stepped back.

“The what?” The elf pressed the ranger away from him as Aragorn tried to drape 
the coat over the elf’s shoulders.  “Why would I want to go there?”

“It is a local spot and there will be local people gathered there tonight who 
will be more than happy to talk all about the goings on in the barrow downs.  By 
this time they have had sufficient amounts of mead and ale to loosen their 
tongues.  Now come on.”  Aragorn stepped forward again effectively trapping the 
twin between himself and the firepit, holding out his long-coat for the elf to 
wear.  “Put this on.”  His voice held no room for debate.  “I’ll not have anyone 
questioning you or Legolas and I don’t need to attract any more attention than 
necessary, but I do need those ears of yours and you *are* coming.”

“I think I hear Halbarad calling.” The elf frowned, looking for any way out.  “I 
should probably make sure he’s all right.”

Dropping the coat to his side Aragorn tipped his head and glanced at the elf, 
they were running of out time.  The men’s tongues soon would be loosened by the 
mead they were drinking and the ranger wanted to reach the pub before the drink 
went to their heads and made the over exaggerate, or worse pass out.  

“You aren’t afraid are you?”  Aragorn pulled out the childhood taunt.  It worked 
every time one of them proposed a dare that the other did not want to follow 
through on.

Roughly grabbing the over coat out of his brother’s hands, Elladan quickly 
shrugged into the leather jacket, his nose wrinkling slightly, “This smells 
like...”

“It smells like me!  What *is* it with you elves?”  Aragorn glared in mock 
indignation, silencing the giggles from the prince who stood across the fire.  
They had had this conversation before.  Almost exactly. 

“I told you that thing needed a good airing out.”  Legolas confessed innocently.

“Legolas!”

“My, this is better than when the Sackville-Bagginses and the Brandybucks get 
together to discuss the proper methods for the growing of pipe weed.”  Bilbo 
smiled, reminiscing to himself.  “Say,” He leaned over next to Elrohir and 
lowered his voice, “are they always like this?”

“Worse.”  Elrohir glanced at the hobbit out of the corner of his eyes, “This is 
pretty good for them actually.”  He whispered back.

“Fine!” Elladan buttoned up the leather coat concealing his elvish attire.  
“Fine!  Let's go then.”  He frowned at his brother, his irritation showing 
through slightly.

“Wait, you aren’t quite ready.”  Aragorn stepped closer to his brother reaching 
behind him and grabbing the folds of the hood that lay against the elf’s back.

Legolas turned away, walking a few paces into the woods, unable to stifle his 
laughter.

Gently Aragorn pulled the large hood up and over his brother’s head, tucking the 
wayward strands of dark hair back in around the elf’s face.

Crossing his arms irritably, Elladan glared at the human as Aragorn pressed the 
elf’s hair around his ears, fully concealing them and stepped back to admire his 
handiwork.

Nodding slowly he smiled at the twin, “The glare is good too, it’ll keep any of 
the curious away from our table.”

“I’m going to have to bathe when we are through.” Elladan growled.

“You look lovely.”  Aragorn taunted, quickly touching the sides of the elf’s 
face and planting a kiss on his forehead.  

The teasing had reached Elladan’s limits of toleration and he shoved his brother 
back.  “I swear Estel; I will make you pay for this.” He growled, stepping 
towards his brother threateningly.

Aragorn moved back in close to the older elf. “Oh! Really?  Seems to me I 
remember a time you dressed me in that outfit of mothers when I was younger 
*against* my will.  And then, convincing me the house was empty, you dared me to 
run into the Hall of Fire where father was in actuality having a council meeting 
that you knew full well all about?  Hmmm?  Yes, let us talk about revenge shall 
we?”  The ranger glared back at Elladan, “Glorfindel excused himself to escort 
me out when I tripped on the edge of the dress trying to get out of there.  It 
took me weeks to come out of my room after that!  At least I have dressed you 
like a man.”

“Not much of an improvement.”  Elladan mumbled darkly but the smile that tugged 
at the corners of his lips offset the slur.

Legolas stumbled back into the circle of light, his giggles inhibiting his 
breathing as he spoke.  “Really Elladan, this isn’t the bad part.  *This* my 
friend is the easy part.  I’ve been where you are.”  The elf smelled the collar 
of the coat he wore, “Actually I prefer the way Estel’s jacket smells, I’m used 
to it.  Would you like to trade?”

“Stop it!”  Aragorn was laughing now as Elrohir nearly fell off the log he sat 
on; the conversation having taken such a light bent, the elf was consumed with 
laughter.  “No you can't trade coats!  Although I’m sorry my friend I hadn’t 
thought about the smell for you.  We need to get going.  We have no time to 
waste; Bree is a one half of an hour away and already night is well upon us.  
The gate guard may not allow us access as it is.”  Aragorn started to head 
towards the town fully expecting the elves to follow him.

Sounds behind him alerted the ranger and he turned to find that Elladan had 
quickly shrugged out of the leather coat and was holding it out to Legolas.  
Aragorn simply rolled his eyes as the two elves traded jackets.

With a laugh Elrohir rose from his seat and helped Elladan conceal his ears and 
long braided hair once more beneath the hood of Halbarad’s coat this time.

“This is much better.”  Legolas smiled impishly at the ranger as he quickly 
pulled the familiar overcoat around his shoulders.  

“Elves.”  Aragorn growled at Legolas as he turned and led his companions away 
from the camp.  He threw a brilliant smile at the youngest twin as he walked 
passed the Hobbit and elf.

 

___________________________________________________________

 

~*PART FIVE*~

 

 

The gate of Bree loomed tall before the three travelers, blocking their path.  
Aragorn turned and stopped the elves, his focus on Elladan.  He and Legolas had 
been in this same situation many times, entering a town of men who were not 
frequently exposed to the firstborn.  Most humans were suspicious and wary of 
the fair beings.

The ranger was not worried about how his elven friend would fare, Elladan could 
more than take care of himself.  It was his brother’s reactions that concerned 
him, and the risk of losing their cover.  Elladan was not uncomfortable or wary 
around humans as Legolas had once been.  However, he was used to cities of men 
who were friendly and accepted the elven brothers’ comings and goings.  Their 
dealing with the rangers and Beornings had made the twins somewhat innocent to 
the workings of humans on a greater scale.  Here they would find no welcome.

“Elladan listen, when we get in there...” Aragorn’s admonitions were cut short 
by his brother.

“I have been among humans before Estel.  You worry far too much.  El and I have 
ridden with the rangers since long before you were born I’ll have you know.”

Pressing the two elves back into the woods behind them, Aragorn continued the 
conversation at a safer distance from the city so as not to be overhead by the 
random passerby.

“I know you have.  And you are older and wiser in the ways of this earth than I 
am...”

Elladan grinned.  “Correct.  Estel, it’s not as if this were the first time I’ve 
seen Bree.  I don’t see the need for all this.”  He gestured to the coat hiding 
his features.

“I know it’s not, but there’s a difference between riding by or passing through, 
and actually trying to mingle.  These men are not like the men you have known.  
They are not bad, but they are a suspicious and superstitious lot.  Many have 
never even seen an elf, for elves do not frequent these places and they are more 
used to the evil things and the wilds than they are to something they consider 
myth.”  He raised his hands in a pleading gesture when Elladan tried to 
interrupt again.  “Please brother, I do not question you or your abilities, it 
is the ones we will be among that worry me.” 

Aragorn glanced to his right, smiling at the prince, “Legolas is used to this 
atmosphere, but it has not been without trial and error that we discovered how 
best to conceal ourselves.  Let me do the talking.”  He spoke the last sentence 
slowly as though speaking to a very small child.  “In all likelihood we will not 
be challenged or even engaged in conversation by anyone.  We are here to listen 
and see what we can find out.”

“I do not like this.” Elladan answered softly.

“I know.”  Estel placed his hands on the elf’s shoulders and stared up into the 
blue-grey eyes that watched him.  “Do this for me, I need your help.  Besides, 
it won’t be that bad.”

The elf nodded once.  It was enough for the ranger, who tugged playfully on the 
edges of the hood and turned silently leading them back to the large wooden 
gate.  He rapped on the timber that made up the huge door and waited, pounding 
again when no answer was forthcoming.  Sounds of shifting and grumbling issued 
from behind the barricaded doorway and an irritated voice finally answered the 
repeated knocking.

“Who calls so late at night?” A thin voice called to them.

“Open the portal.”  Aragorn glanced behind him shaking his head.

A small square window set in the door cracked open and yellow light spilled out 
from the lantern that the gatekeeper held up eye level so he could view the 
travelers without.  It was late.  Later than any one usually came calling and he 
wasn’t too indisposed to opening the large barricade.  It was cold out and he 
was sleepy.  His irritation with the intruders showed through.

“What do you want?”  He questioned again grumpily.

Aragorn stepped up, blocking the man’s view of the elves.  “We would like to 
come in.  We’re headed for the Prancing Pony.”

“Well it’s a might late.”  The small door cracked open wider as the old 
gatekeeper glanced around the ranger.  “There’s talk of wights about.  The 
townsfolk don’t like the gate opened any more after sundown, it’s not safe.”

“Do we look like wights to you?” Legolas stepped forward into the shaft of dim 
light, allowing the man to view him more fully.  When he spoke his voice was 
lower and deeper, not as soft as it normally was.  

Aragorn glanced at his friend out of the corner of his eyes.  Rarely did the elf 
speak when they entered human towns, but his time in Harad and with the 
Gondorians had made him bolder, more used to dealing with humans and concealing 
himself among them. 

“Well...” The older man behind the barricade eyed the elf hard, “Not to me you 
don’t, but then I ain’t one that’s seen them devils.”  The small window slammed 
quickly and forcefully shut.  In moments the doors of Bree opened slowly and the 
threesome were allowed entry.  “Now don’t let me hear of you starting no trouble 
in town.  I shouldn’ta let you in but...”

“You’ll not hear of us causing any stir.”  Aragorn promised, waiting as Elladan 
stepped inside the doorway.  He followed the elves up the street to the local 
tavern.

“See that I don’t!” the care taker called after them.  Something still felt 
wrong about him letting the strangers in, but he had seen the ranger before, so 
he was less inclined to keep them out.  Shaking his head he stepped back into 
his small house adjacent to the gates and lit his pipe once more.  Everyone was 
just too on edge lately.

The lights from the Prancing Pony spilled into the dirty streets of Bree, their 
cheerful yellow cast belying the goings on within the Inn.

Aragorn pushed the door open and waded into the sea of humanity just on the 
other side. Men were pressed up against the bar, drinking pints of ale as they 
bemoaned the day’s labors.  Others were gathered about circular tables, telling 
each other tales some of which were true and some that were suspect.  The smoke 
from pipes hung thick about the middle of the room choking the air and the small 
confines smelled from the closely pressed bodies that occupied the tavern.  Many 
found it a welcoming, cheery place, and Aragorn himself was no exception.  
However, the ranger knew from experience that while comfortable to men and 
Halflings, elves did not take to these settings particularly well.

Elladan stopped on the threshold of the door, catching his breath as the sounds 
and smells assaulted him.  Half in, half out of the bar he stopped, taking it 
all in.  There was something disturbing to the elven senses about the clamor and 
disorderly atmosphere.  If it hadn’t been for Legolas’ hand in the small of his 
back he might have stood there all night until someone pushed him out of the 
way.  The gentle pressure from the elven prince caused the twin to refocus on 
the sight of his retreating human brother and he stumbled into the bar. Making 
his way to the table in the corner that Aragorn had chosen he dropped stiffly 
into the chair that the ranger kicked out for him.  Estel was right; the 
atmosphere here was entirely different than what he was accustomed to, even in 
his many dealings with the mortal race.  It was just a building full of humans, 
he didn’t know why it made him so hesitant, but it did.

Legolas seated himself on Aragorn’s right and immediately began to look over the 
tavern.  As usual the ranger had chosen a well-placed section of the bar to sit 
in.  They were at a round table, out of the way towards the back of the room, 
with a good view of the door and all the occupants.  Only one small corner to 
Legolas’ right was obscured by the brick firepit that smoked away, heating the 
already too warm room.  

The elf prince felt no reservation about these settings anymore, he had long ago 
learned to tune out the elements of chaos that were initially disturbing and see 
beyond them.  The Prancing Pony was actually far more pleasant a place than some 
of the seedy, cutthroat little pubs he had seen in the south.

“You all right?”  Aragorn softly asked his brother, his voice not even audible 
over the din in the tavern.  Only an elf would have heard the question.

Huge, dark eyes fastened on his own and Elladan nodded slightly, “Yes.” He 
answered, although it was not the entirely truth.  He had never in his life 
entered an establishment like this, not even in the company of the Beornings or 
the other rangers.  It was an unsettling place.  Nothing he couldn’t handle, but 
unsettling.  More than anything it irritated him that his brother had been right 
about how unnerving it was.  He supposed however he would get over it... but it 
would involve thinking up something clever to do to Estel for dragging him in 
here.  

The ranger read the single word reply as it passed across the elf’s lips before 
redirecting his attention to the bartender who was moving in their direction.  

A knowing glance passed between Legolas and Aragorn and the human kicked his 
chair back casually, balancing on the back legs as he liked to do and affecting 
an air of disinterest as he began watching the occupants of the room.

“What’ll it be?”  The bartender squinted at the three men, sizing them up.  He 
was a large man in stature and girth and the shadow of a beard colored his face. 
Unkempt dark hair spilled into his eyes where his locks were too long, he was 
definitely in need of a hair cut and a good bathing, but his eyes were quick and 
bright as he glanced over the newcomers.  He was drying an ale cup with the 
edges of the apron he wore.  The garment was stained and filthy and Elladan 
grimaced as he watched the man from the shadows of the hood that concealed his 
features.

“House brew.”  Legolas replied simply, his shoulders slumped, his voice rough as 
he threw the answer offhandedly at the man.  He broke eye contact and glanced 
casually over at a small brawl that erupted in the far corner of the 
establishment.

Elladan was quietly intrigued by how very little Legolas actually resembled the 
elf he knew him to be at the moment.  Just what exactly had his brother and the 
prince been up to over the years?

“Damn that Braxt.  You give him too many and this is how he acts, every night.  
You think I’d throw him out when he shows his face in here.”  The man turned 
back to the patrons in front of him.  “Sister’s husband.” He answered the 
question no one had asked nor cared about.

The ranger he recognized and didn’t bother to ask what the Dunadan wanted, he 
already knew, but their hooded companion hadn’t spoken.

“And you?”  The bartended pointed the cup he held at Elladan.

Once again the elf froze, not knowing quite how to respond.  He didn’t drink the 
foul mead that men did and was certain they served nothing he would recognize.  
Startled, he turned towards Aragorn.

“He’ll have a house brew, Jansit.”  Aragorn answered the bartender causally.  
“Now where’s that son of yours, young Barliman?  How come you haven’t got him 
working down here with you?  Seems you could use the help.”  The ranger eyed the 
four men that had just noisily spilled into the bar, demanding ale.

“Now you just don’t take no nevermind to my son.” Jansit Butterbur frowned at 
the man, ignoring the new customers, “I know you rangers, Strider, making off 
with people’s kids to help fill out your ranks.  Well you’ll not be getting 
mine!  He has a future!  All this here’s gonna be his one a these days.”

With a laugh Aragorn let his chair fall back down onto all four legs and leaned 
across the table fixing the bartender with a devilish grin, “Where *do* you get 
your stories Jansit?  I can’t believe you listen to those old biddies gossiping. 
You put enough of that brew of yours in them, you can get them to say anything 
about a body, you know that.”

With a snort of derision the bartender turned and walked away, “You’re all 
getting house brew tonight,” He called over his shoulder, “and I’ll not hear 
nothing to the contrary!”

Aragorn laughed and patted Elladan on the arm.  “That was good.”

“Estel *what* am I supposed to be doing?  Why have you dragged me here?”  The 
elf locked his gaze on the human as Aragorn tipped back in his chair, once more 
relaxing into the atmosphere, letting the patrons around them forget they were 
there.  He could tell his brother was anxious and tried to put him at ease.

“I want you to listen.”  He glanced casually at the elf out of the corner of his 
eyes, slowly moving his head until he was staring straight at his brother.  The 
action was deliberate and off handed - it garnered little attention.  “At first 
you may find it hard to do.” His voice was barely audible over the noise in the 
room, but he kept it down, teaching the elf by his example how to concentrate on 
one voice at a time, “Just like you are listening to me, listen to each of the 
conversations.  Hear what they are talking about.  We are looking for any tips 
on the doings of the wights in these parts.”  

Aragorn glanced up as Jansit walked back towards them and deposited three mugs 
of ale onto the middle of the table, the thick mead sloshed over the sides.

“Drink up boys.”  He muttered as he walked away wiping his hands on his apron.

Leaning forward Aragorn grabbed a brimming mug and took a deep draught of the 
drink.  His focus turned suddenly outward as he began scrutinizing the men 
around them, weeding out the braggarts and the obviously drunk.  Someone here 
just had to have information, and in a group this large and diverse someone 
would be willing to talk. 

It had been sometime that they had been sitting at the table with no results 
when Legolas reached over and gently