Fan Fiction ❯ Fate of the Fires ❯ Ranger Clash ( Chapter 6 )

Fate of the Fires

Part VI: Ranger Clash

Lady Mars

Disclaimer: See the first few chapters.

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Aragorn slowly moved through the streets of Rivendell. He had spent most of the day at one of the local inns, drowning his problems over a pint of ale. (A/N: ONLY ONE! He ISN'T DRUNK.) He had been pondering the reality that was Rogue. He just couldn't understand how he could be present one moment and gone the next. The ranger's mind was muddy; he couldn't draw any straight conclusions out of all of his discoveries and from every encounter that anyone had had with the man. He sighed, very agitated. He longed to get to the bottom of the looming orc problem and to figure out why the other ranger was so bitter, heartless, and seemingly uncaring. 'There has to be some logical explanation,' he thought. 'One just does not remain so bitter for so long without reason. There must be something that I don't see that is causing him to act this way, but what can it be?' He continued pondering. It seemed that nothing could solve his problem, aside from hearing it straight from the other ranger's mouth, and that was highly unlikely to happen any time soon. We watched in silence as the city around him kept moving. To them, there were no impending problems, no worries in the entire universe. But this was not so with the ranger. 'I wish I could get into the man's head, see what makes him tick. Then I my possibly be able to comprehend the man.' Aragorn sighed. There was no way he would be able to figure the man out. 'And what makes the situation worse is the fact that Frodo is acting abnormal. He hasn't seemed right for the last few days, but he won't disclose any information to anyone, not even the other hobbits. That just doesn't seem right. Maybe… Just maybe, he knows something about Rogue that no one else does.' He snorted. 'Now you're sounding completely absurd, Aragorn. How would Frodo found out something about Rogue that no one else would? He hasn't come in contact with him since we first saw him as a group. He must have other things on his mind. There is nothing he knows that we don't. And then, there's Legolas. It isn't right that he dropped off the face of Middle-Earth without a trace. Someone must have seen him since the burning of Mirkwood. He must be out there somewhere, hiding amongst the trees, doing the things elves enjoy.' Aragorn stopped abruptly. 'It couldn't be. There is NO WAY. I mean, that is completely illogical. There is now way that Rogue could be Legolas. Legolas was just far too kind to be this cold hearted, shell of a man. But the resemblance is remarkable. His hazel eyes and blonde hair are just like Legolas'. Now that is truly absurd. Three-fourths of the elvish population has blonde hair. But still, there is something unnerving about their resemblance. There must be a connection somewhere, but where is it?' He continued walking, pondering over his recent revelations. He was completely unaware of his surroundings until a woman's scream shattered the pristine air. He whipped around to find the source of the intrusion. He continued to search until the sulfurous sting hit his nostrils; he had found the source of the commotion. One of the local buildings had caught on fire. He stood amidst the vast crowd, wondering how this could have started. One thing pooped into his head. He turned, as if by fate, to see the retreating, cloaked figure. He advanced as quickly as possible through the mass of people, but the being still was getting away. Once broken away, Aragorn made a mad dash to the figure. In one fluid motion, the king grabbed the man's shoulder, spun him around, and ripped off his hood. The hazel eyes staring back at him confirmed his suspicions.

"YOU!" the king growled.

"Yeah, it is me," Rogue spat back, shrugging the king's hand off of his shoulder. "What do you want of me?"

"I," Aragorn replied, bitterly. "Would like to know what you are doing here."

"I'd bet you would," Rogue spat back, equally as bitter. "But, as far as I'm concerned, it is none of your personal business."

"Oh really?"
"Yes really. I have as much right to be here as any other man. Are you insinuating that I am causing some sort of usurping here?"

"And what if I was?"

"Then I'd have to say that you are making daring accusations against a man that you know nothing about and anything I should do should strike you with fear."

"And what kind of fear should that strike me with?"

"The worst kind of fear you have or ever will experience."

"And you should cause this, my dear elf."

"I would, could, and will be glad to show you FIRST HAND."

"You don't have the audacity to do such a thing."

"You dare try me?" Aragorn gazed at the elf, trying to size him up.

"Yes." The elf smirked.

"Fine then." With a blinding swiftness, the ranger hit Aragorn in the side of his face with a blunt object. The king reeled backwards a few steps from the force of the blow. He stared at his opponent; the ranger was holding a small dagger in his right hand. Aragorn, in turn, grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it, forcing him to drop the blade. Rogue glared at the man; this battle was going to be ugly. Rogue sung again, this time nailing the other square in the ribs. Aragorn clutched his side briefly and then swung back, hitting Rogue in the side of the throat. The elf was dazed, but not defeated. He shook his head to clear it and rose back to his full height. The pair continued to stare at each other for a few moments and then Aragorn struck once again. He lunged at the ranger at took him down with one blow. Rogue countered by throwing the king over his head. The two men lied, sprawled out on the ground, trying to get up. Rogue gained the advantage: he got up first. He smiled; good fortune was with him that day. He gave a swift kick to the king's side, making the fallen man move faster than planned. Rogue backed up when he realized that the other man was getting up. Aragorn brushed his hair out of his eyes and glared at the ranger; the ranger smiled back at him. This angered the man greatly. He drew his sword and lunged at the other. Rogue slid out of the way, but not quite fast enough; the edge of the sword grazed his right side. He stuck his fingers into the wound carefully.

"Damn you," he hissed, drawing his own sword. He swung the sword, but was easily countered. He swung again and once again was blocked; this was getting to the ranger's nerves. The king was getting cocky very quickly. That wouldn't last long. Rogue swung his sword left and Aragorn countered, but was hit in the right side by Rogues dagger. The ranger smiled evilly. He swung his leg, effectively knocking the king off of his feet. He stood over the king, staring down at him.

"I told you not to mess with me," he snarled. He gave the fallen king a kick to the ribs before walking off. Aragorn slowly arose to watch the ranger walk defiantly away. 'Damn him!' he thought. 'I will get him yet!'

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