A Rift in the World

'Walk Among Us'

The war between Man and Elf existed before anyone knew it. Human and Elf constantly competed to be the best, to have the best. The war was only another way to prove who was superior. Countless died on either side, which only fueled their need for dominance more. Many years passed, and all at once the war ceased. The Human's fled out of Elven lands, Elves fled from the Human realm. A new war was upon them, and with their numbers decreased severely, the two races had no choice but to forge an alliance. Begrudgingly, they worked side by side to formulate a way to stop this new evil from enslaving them all. With their new numbers and skill, hope once more returned to Middle Earth.

-- --

Darkness settled across Rivendell as fresh campfires sprung up. The new soldiers from Southern Rohan had just arrived and were listening to their leaders tell the tale of what has been happening in the Elven kingdom. Elves moved about, sending scouts this way and that, directing others to their designated grounds. Above all this, Elrond and his daughter Arwen looked down from a balcony.

"So many soldiers. Where do they all come from?" the young Elf asked. Her father surveyed the grounds once more before ushering his daughter back into her room.

"They come from all over Middle Earth. Humans and Elves alike brave many dangers journeying here, for the armies of Sauron are thousands more than we and scattered throughout the lands. These men are the bravest of their clans. We will defeat Sauron with their help."

Arwen offered him the smallest of smiles. She hated anything to do with war, but her father always overlooked that little fact. His philosophy: War is like a stage in life, you can either keep moving, or you can sit there until death comes for you. Elrond believed war was just a part in life, and no one could put a stop to it, no matter how much anyone wanted peace.

"Come, Arwen. Let us settle down for a good night's rest," she shot him a look that clearly said, 'good?'. He seemed to get the message because he finished up with, "it will make more sense as to why we are doing this tomorrow."

"Yes, father." She answered obediently, climbing into bed. Elrond looked down at her and smiled.

"Sleep now. All will be better when the sun rises." He leaned down and kissed her brow, then stood up and left. The pale Elf lay awake a while longer listening to the shouts and clunking outside of her window and clutching her sheets. When would it all stop? When would the Elves return to the peace-loving woodland people that had prospered so? It was sometime later that she was able to fall asleep.

-- --

Elrond descended the stone steps down into a long hallway. Branches from his favorite tree met with other branches to form the long, gaping doorways that were on either side of them. The beloved Elm tree of Elrond stood at least thirty-seven meters high, leaves as green as a fresh bloomed pine, and branches thick as an Elf's middle. The King of Rivendell took a deep breath, reveling in the scent of the air. It was always so clean in Elven lands.

A soldier met him at the end of the hallway. "Lord Elrond!" he saluted. "The new troops from Rohan have arrived. They are making camp on our western borders."

"I see." Replied the king with some form of dignity. "How many more are due to arrive tonight?"

"We are still awaiting the rest of the men from Mirkwood, and we have yet to hear word of the progress of Eastern Gondor, sir." Elrond inclined his head.

"Very well. Take note of our numbers, I am retiring for the night." The general nodded and turned on his heel, heading to the gathering of soldiers. Alone at last, the king sighed and let his shoulders drop. War was not something he enjoyed, just endured, for the sake of his people.

Continuing past the entrance to his palace, he made for the staircase that would lead him to his quarters. Along the way he met many more soldiers, each looking worse for wear than the last.

The journey must have been hard, even for the well-trained ones. I wonder how many each faction lost.

These thoughts were not a comforting factor as the King climbed into bed for the night.

--

Aragorn, son of Arathorn had scouting duties the first part of the night. He was to patrol every area within a three-league radius of the western banks of Rivendell. The Orc threat was ever present in the minds of all men. Watches were constantly set up so the soldiers could sleep in a make-believe state of mind.

It was nearly the tenth hour of the evening when he finally set out. He carried with him no more than a regular dagger and an Oak bow and a half-empty quiver. Not much defense against a band of Saruman's minions.

The trees seemed closer and more menacing in the night. The moon gave off little light to help the ranger. Each sound caused him to raise his bow. Needless to say, he was tense.

Rustling in the bushes drew his attention away from the rabbit that was crossing his path. Silently, he dropped off his horse and made his way to the side of the dirt road. There, the movement stopped, and whatever was in the bushes seemed to be listening. Aragorn made no sound as he stood there waiting for whatever was there to make a move. When nothing more stirred, he pulled an arrow from his quiver and gently poked around. What he got was not what he expected.

Before he knew what was happening, he was standing with an arrow tip pointed right between his eyes, and his own arrow was pointed at the juncture of the other mans legs (By pure accident? Maybe). Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, and Aragorn, heir of Gondor, stood poised to attack in the dark.

"What are you doing here?" they chorused together, lowering their weapons.

"I'm on reconnaissance, what about you?" they once more answered at the same time. A smile formed at the young Elf's lips.

"It seems someone thought we could not handle this on our own," he joked. Legolas stepped out of the bushes to stand next to the ranger.

"So it would seem indeed. Or maybe our paths cross by coincidence. However, it seems we are together on this one. Let's go." Aragorn turned on his heels and walked back to his awaiting horse, Legolas a step behind him. In one fluid, graceful movement, he was seated on the back of Sarasoa, extending a hand to the Elf standing patiently at the stirrups. He took it.

Electric tingles shot up both of their hands as Legolas was hauled up behind the heir, though they pretended to take no notice. Before Aragorn could set out, the blonde clasped his hands around the brunettes waist, so he did not fall off of the horse and get left behind. Even this simple, everyday motion sent shockwave after shockwave up the others spine.

Aragorn cleared his throat. "Come on, Sarasoa." He clucked his tongued and nudged the horse's side and she lurched forward at a slow pace.

-- --

Elrond woke to screaming Elves and many pounding feet. His surly looking attendant rushed over.

"Your Highness! Thank the heavens you are awake! A terrible omen has befallen Rivendell! The soldiers are calling it the second plague-"

"Stop! Tell me what happened, stop beating around the bush!" Elrond's voice rose with each word as he climbed out of bed and moved toward the now stuttering Elf. "Speak!"

"Yes, Your Highness, forgive me," he said with a small bow. "It is the Lady Arwen! Some evil came to her during the night! She fell ill, sir. None of our medicine seems to be able to help her!"

The King of Rivendell hadn't even waited for the other one to finish his entire tale. The moment he heard 'Arwen' uttered, he darted off to his daughter's room. His bare feet made no noise as the Elves in the halls parted for him to get by. He seemed to be skimming along above the ground as he took the stairs three at a time. His heart pounded in his throat as he reached the room of the Princess.

"Arwen!" he cried, bursting into the room with such a force that a few of the Elves in there stumbled back. Elrond paused for nothing, but strode straight to the bed in which his daughter lay, pale, sweating and unconscious. Her breathing was shallow, and drawn in with much trouble; it rattled in her throat and each breath shook her body.

"What has happened to my daughter?" Elrond screamed, rounding on his frightened subjects behind him. "Someone explain or I shall have you all thrown into exile!" his face was contorted with rage and his eyes blazed with the promise of following through on that threat.

"M-my Lord, Ricochet was just walking out of the Lady Arwen's chambers when she heard a shrill scream. She turned and ran back into the room, but all she saw was an open window and the Lady Arwen trembling in her bed. Your daughter would not respond to anything we did, nor has the medicine we have given her seemed to take effect. She is still in the state Ricochet found her this morning. She kept muttering 'Neil' over and over, but she ceased moments before your Lordship ran in. Forgive us," the Elf bowed low to the ground, showing respect for the king.

Elrond looked back at his daughter. He gently took her small, pale hands in his and looked at her closed eyelids.

He began muttering in Elvish so quietly, even those with the sharpest hearing could not make out anything coherent. He looked anxiously at her when he was done, searching for any sign that she was coming about. He was disappointed when nothing happened.

The door burst open again; this time Aragorn running in breathless, followed closely by his ever-faithful companion, Legolas.

"My Lord," he spoke in a wheezing voice. "What has happened?" the King rounded on Aragorn.

"Out! You filthy human! You are probably the cause of this!" he motioned to a couple of guards, his eyes red with fury. "Get this filth out of my daughters bedroom!" Not wanting to anger Elrond further, the Elves escorted the heir of Gondor out of the room bodily, but with a heavy heart. Aragorn was much respected in Rivendell, and it pained everyone -mainly Legolas-to see him treated like that, even by the King. The blonde Elf followed Aragorn once more, for there were angry tears in those storm-cloud eyes.

When the guards let him go, the proud heir dropped to his knees in shock. He cradled his head in his hands, muttering over and over, 'Arwen'. The Prince of Mirkwood felt a surge of anger toward the respected King of Rivendell. To toss out his daughter's lover like that, without an explanation no less!

"What has happened, Legolas?" Aragorn asked quietly from the ground. His head was still in his hands, as if it was too heavy for his neck.

Legolas bent down and put a comforting arm around his troubled friend. A dizzying feeling of pleasure roamed freely through his body. "I am sure we will find out soon, Aragorn. The King is probably too upset right now to realize whom he just tossed out of the room like a rag doll. I am sure he will apologize and tell us what happened to Arwen."

The Prince hated how that name rolled off his tongue. Arwen was not good enough for Aragorn, no one was. Aragorn was too special, no one was made for him. The spoiled brat of a Princess deserved nothing more that whatever happened.

Legolas, son of Thranduil, Prince of Northern Mirkwood, would soon learn to regret those thoughts.

-- --

Kitiara: Slightly evil cliffy. You will find out more about what happened to Arwen in the next chapter, which will hopefully be longer.

Alhana: Aragorn and Legolas' situation will be described in that time too, I think.

Kitiara: But as it is, please review. St. Anger was taken off because of the lack of reviews and we do not wish to get rid of this one.

Extra notes:

This story will contain yaoi, m/m, yuri, f/f, mentions of rape, violence and blood, cursing, cruelty to animals, wizard bashing, Arwen bashing, and just a general misguided, AU version of JRR Tolkien's masterpiece.

This is set somewhere in the Two Towers, but it is very different, doesn't follow the movie or book.

Preview of A Rift in The World: Back in Black:

He knew he was being pursued, but urged his horse on faster. He could hear hoot beats getting louder, and knew his assailant was not too far behind him. Aragorn had just enough time to look up, when a large black thing barreled into his horse, and he was thrown sideways off the road. He hit a couple trees on his way back.

Gathering what was left of his wits, the heir of Gondor scrambled to his feet and continued through the small forest on foot. He had not gotten far, when something hard hit him in the back of the head. Everything went black.