Fan Fiction ❯ Together We Stand ❯ Confirmations Of Such... ( Chapter 5 )

It was endless. For what seemed like forever, Aragorn had been led deep into the darkest blackness, which stretched in full expanse around him.

The ranger cursed the darkness with a flourish of colourful language, as he knitted his eyebrows together in a frustrated frown.

He was tiring of this place that was as dark as night. For what previously amazed him was now repetitive and dull. Always, they moved downward, and never across. Never in curves and always in a straight line.

Right now Aragorn would give anything for light, and anything to continue in variation.

Bored of the lack of sight, the Ranger began to examine the area around him, making use of his abnormally heightened senses due to the lack of hued brilliance.

The steps themselves seemed fairly even, and from what little he could tell in this atmosphere, they appeared to be made of solid chiselled rock. Reaching out a curious hand to the sides of the cave, his frowned deepened in bafflement. The walls seemed to be sprouting a soft and damp moss, that was spongy to the touch. And though this is not uncommon in such fertile land; to have already full grown moss, in a cavern such as this was odd. As for any substances such as this to grow on uninhabitable rock, requires much oxygen, and to the experienced heir, the air smelt too stale to for anything but a weed to survive.

'This cannot be right!' His mind cried in absurdity. 'This place must surely be ancient, as the air itself smells dank, and unused. Yet it is well known enough for a hobbit to be leading me down into this as if nothing is new. How old and in secret can this place be?'

Many such thoughts of inquisitive nature forced themselves into Aragorn's very confused mind, as he hazarded a guess at the age of this burrow. His mind came to no palpable conclusions however, as without further and fully lighted observation, guessing the answer to this seemingly fruitless question would be futile.

Frustrated, the heir of Gondor sighed for the thousandth time at the impending nothingness, wishing once again that something brighter than the monotonous flickering of a wan torch would present itself to his aching eyes.

Finally, after what seemed a lifetime or two, a blazing light revealed itself at the end of the long staircase. And as he gladly drew to its end, and toward what appeared to be blessedly flat even ground, he sucked in a sharply amazed breath.

Warm noises of bustling activity sounded loudly in the echoing cavern, as a village of hobbits zoomed around business as usual in their tiny, but massed entirety. And as Aragorn looked breathlessly onwards, amazed at the hall's shear expanse, a warm and smiling voice made itself heard to his assaulted ears.

'Come now Aragorn, we are not such a simple race, that a few secrets are beyond us, now are we?' Rose Gamgee wandered hurriedly over to the amazed human, and grinned broadly as she noticed his obvious astonishment.

Shaking himself from his withering daze, the Ranger couldn't help but grin himself. Two young hobbits, not two years apart in age, and equally as alike, had attached themselves to their mothers skirts. Accumulated food of various assortments littered their face, hands and clothes. And as they clutched their grubby little mitt's to Rose's now filthy gown, he stifled a buoyant chuckle.

Following his look of mirth, Rose laughed heartily, and with no effort at all, plucked the children off her dress and shunted them off with a giggle. The incessant chattering of the two young hobbits faded into the clutter of the hall, not far off.

'Good it is to see you too Rose!' He spoke, kneeling to embrace her in a friendly hug. 'Though be it under these circumstances, I am a little surprised. Might I ask how old these halls are, and when they came to be? For such an obvious secret is strange to be kept by a hobbit, of all little people!'

Rose only shook her head with a secretive smile, and laid a delicate finger upside her nose. 'Now, I cannot tell you that, for that is a long tale to be told over a warm fire, not now. Though it is a tale indeed worth the telling.' She paused briefly, and wiped her hands on her ruined skirt, before looking up again and continuing. 'But on a different note, might I ask, where are friends Legolas and Gimli? They were to accompany you here, were they not? Yet I do no see them over your shoulder.'

But before Aragorn came to think of an answer, Pippin interfered with an impatient snort, and a derisive wave of his hand.

'This talk may wait!' He said angrily, his eyes flickering between the two. 'My ailing cousin is in need of help, and you Aragorn are the only capable of his healing. Do not sit and idly chat while he is so ill of self, but instead follow me to where he is!'

Aragorn looked with surprise toward the tiny hobbit, who now spoke with such authority. The usually placid and calm Took, was now jittery with obvious nervousness, constantly shifting from foot to foot with restless unease.

The Ranger smiled warmly at the two hobbits, and with a brief nod of his head indicated for Pippin to move on.

'Goodbye Rose, we shall talk again soon.'

And with that, they moved on into the depths of the swarming crowds, and into the myriad of halls in this enormous underground mansion…

*****

'The hall is just as long as the stairways!' Aragorn cried in his mind, as he passed alongside yet another pair of enormous doors. The entrances that spanned the enormous corridors bore intricate carvings, laden of both stone and fine artwork. And despite his growing concern for the wounded hobbit located somewhere in this colossal structure, the Ranger couldn't help but be impressed at the sheer size and detail of the facility where he now stood.

At least two more lifetimes passed during the speedy walk through the building, though finally it came to an end.

Pippin stopped with looming finality at a door that was just as identical to all the previous ones. Though how he could determine one from the other was beyond the Ranger. Turning toward Aragorn, Pippin summoned forth a mournful smile, and a nearly indistinct inclination of his head.

With no further delay, the hobbit grimly pushed open the door, revealing a room livid in finery. Though this what not what the heir of Gondor looked to first.

For a tiny bed lay in the centre of the room, minute in comparison to the vast chamber around it. A hobbit each hunched on either side of it, and on that very bed, bathed in sickly sweat and muttering incoherently was Merry. White as the sheets he lay on, and cold as ice.

*****

The two warriors stood valiantly upon the charred ground. Physically, if not mentally prepared for the battle that awaited them.

Over the fertile hilltop rode nine Ringwraiths, on steeds black as night. Not a single sword or weapon was among them, and the duo found this strange. In all previous encounters they had had with the Wraiths, they had found themselves fighting for their lives against deathly shimmering, and inky swords.

But what they found even more odd perhaps, was what lay braced in their hands.

Foot long, iron manacled torches blazed with a holocaust so inky in colour, that Legolas was not even sure it could be called a flame. For as the tiny inferno's licked greedily at the air around them, deep shadows flew from their masts like haphazard lightening, striking dead the green grass that had lain where it hit.

Though no light came forth from them, and as they drew closer, and the screeching grew ever louder, Legolas shivered and closed his eyes in brief. Warding off the impending cold the Nazgûl often brought on.

Dwarf and elf met eyes, and as they checked their weapons one last time, they spared each other a brief smile.

'Fare you well, my friend.' Spoke Legolas softly to his sturdy companion. 'For this battle shall be greatly difficult.'

Gimli only nodded, his smile growing into a mischievous grin. 'I shall fare more well than you might think, though I bear no elven blade! I will watch your back, as you watch mine, and we will see who gets the bigger head count. Just like old times.'

'Just like old times,' the elf repeated, grinning also.

*****

The Nazgûl drew close, and as they did so, Legolas, with great pain from his injured ribs, shot forth a warning arrow toward the one leading.

The effort was a waste.

With reflexes quicker than either warrior could discern or even come to understand, the Wraith screeched an indistinguishable sentence and held out the black flame. Quickly, and before their very eyes, its minute licking became an ebony torrent, forming a dark and transparent shield around the black hooded figure.

The glinting arrow reached the guard the instant it was up. And despite its powerful elven bearing, the entire shaft and head shattered like glass thrown upon rock.

Legolas was shocked beyond belief.

'What is this!' His alarmed mind cried in dismay. 'Only an elven weapon may harm a Nazgûl, yet my arrow did not even pierce its defence! Even still, why do they return from their forbidden inferno, and what fool gave them magic?' These thoughts raced through the elf's mind, accompanied by many others, as Gimli and he shared a confused and worried look. For if an arrow forged by the high elves, does no harm to an enemy, what weapon could?

Dwarven lord, and elven prince retreated hastily but grimly with uncharacteristically growing panic, once again seeking the solace of concealment. Though if there were such places to hide in the remains of this town, they did not show reveal themselves. And with frozen hearts, the duo returned to their makeshift stronghold. Their weapons held tightly once again.

*****

From then on, the battle did not last long. In fact, it didn't quite come to take place.

For all in one dizzying moment of motion, a slight grating noise could be heard from behind, over the screeching of the Wraiths. And directly and with speed, backward they fell, deep into a seemingly endless abyss.

*****

Legolas landed lightly on his feet with the calm, natural grace of an elf. Darkness was all around him, causing the young prince to blink rapidly from the sudden change, and the lights assault to his eyes.

Recovering quickly though, he turned from the wall he now faced, in time to see his dwarven companion tumbling down endless stairs, his arms flailing rapidly in a fruitless attempt to halt his fall.

Quickly, and with hasty reflex, Legolas leaped down the narrow stairway wincing from the pain it cause to his broken ribs, though finally arriving in front of the rapidly descending dwarf, and putting forth his arms to stop him. Gimli tumbled neatly into the fair elf's arms, and with a grudging mumble of thanks, he squirmed out of the barriered embrace that held him.

'Are you alright?'

'I am fine, and did not need your help, Legolas.'

'Good then. But look next time you step, my friend. Whether you needed my help or not is typically debatable, for had I let you go, you would surely still be tumbling now.'

Gimli smirked almost imperceptibly in the looming darkness, though the elf noticed, and laughed.

'Do not laugh at my misfortune elf! Even you are not above tripping over a step or two!'

'No, not a step or two. An entire stairway though is beyond my ca-'

'Are you two done?' A moody voice broke through the harmless banter, and startled, Legolas turned toward the top of the stairs, where the sound appeared to have come from.

From what he could tell, and though the darkness impaired even an elf's vision, a young hobbit stood before them.

Hands on hips, and his foot tapping impatiently on the ground, the hobbit much more resembled a temperamental dwarf. His tone was of ice and his eyes cold and full of frustration, yet the hobbit looked no older than Merry, or even Pippin.

'We are sorry, friend hobbit. Had we seen you here previously, this argument would not have been necessary, and we would have acknowledged you.'

Legolas' kind words did nothing however, to disarm the raw impatience that smouldered in the hobbits eyes. And with shared look of withheld contempt, and a delicately raised eyebrow the three moved on, silent in the darkness.

*****

Aragorn knelt anxiously by Merry's shoulder, placing a firm hand upon the ailing hobbit's brow. His forehead burnt with hot dismal flame, even though it was covered with slick, icy cold sweat.

The worn Ranger barely held back a pained sigh as he removed his hand and progressed to run it through his hair.

'Pippin, where is he hurt?'

The worried hobbit moved forth from behind Aragorn, and paced swiftly toward the bed. With care that depicted the concern for his cousin, Pippin ever so gently pulled back the starched white sheets that lay upon Merry, revealing an equally white bandage that no doubt concealed the wound that they so sorrowfully spoke of.

'There,' he pointed, closing his eyes in grief. 'There Aragorn, his shoulder. Quickly.'

Gently, the heir of Gondor unfastened the roughly tied bandage, and peeled back the untidy pad that lay under it.

Beneath, lay a grizzly wound, though not the kind Aragorn had expected. For no puncture was evident, and no blood marred the smooth skin, for this, he could have healed easily.

What lay in its place however, was what appeared to be a mutating, deep black bruise. Though upon closer inspection, he realised with shock that it was no bruise that lay before his very eyes, but a fire. A fire steadily spreading to cover the entire hobbit, feeding upon his strength of will, and strength of soul. The ranger had heard of this illness before long ago in an elvish tale, though he hoped with all his heart that he was wrong.

'Please, do not let it be…'

Aragorn brought his hand forth to examine the wound more carefully, but as his shaking fingers came to rest upon the sickening centre of the flame, he pulled his fingers back in sudden pain and shock as the wound flared red for but a brief instant. He lowered his head in defeat.

'No…'

'…Strider…' A voice echoed briefly in amongst his grief, bringing his horrified mind back to the present, and dragging him from the solace that was his previously quieted mind. Dragging his eyes up, the Ranger looked toward the source of the voice.

'What is it? What are you doing?' Pippin's voice was anxious with growing anger as he stood facing the shocked human.

'Strider, don't just sit there, help him!' This time the voice was Frodo's. Calm in a sense, but equally sharp and demanding. 'Do not just stare, heal him!'

'I…I cannot. This wound…it, it is no normal ailment!' Aragorn was not usually shocked easily, but now his smooth and strong voice shook with the grievances of a mortal blow.

Three tiny voices synchronised together in alarm, all speaking at once in flourishes of new-found anger. Pippin's voice came through his mournful haze first.

'What do you mean you cannot?' His voice was sharp and on edge.

'This wound, it is not ordinary… and I am not sure,' Aragorn paused in sudden consternation. '…I will need to speak to Legolas before I try…I will need him…but…' The voice trailed off again, shaking with rich undertones of emotion, uncommon for the heir.

'I need Legolas.'

Silence was upon them for a brief moment, until a harsh moan pierced its eerie essence, and all three looked to the hobbit on the bed. Merry now thrashed wildly, clutching the blankets with a fierce white knuckled grip, and rolling his damp head from side to side over the equally damp pillow.

Frodo moved silently to the other side of the bed, and gripped the wounded hobbit's hand in a melancholy grip.

'Aragorn…'

The Ranger nodded, eyes closed, and prayed fervently to Valar that Legolas would arrive soon, and in time to assist him in the healing of the dying hobbit that lay before them all.

'Please, my friends. Hurry…'

He did not hear the large doors creak open, or see Sam slip out hurriedly through them, in search of the elf, who was in part essential to their dear friend's future health.

******

'Light draws near, and glad I will be to reach it!' Legolas smiled at Gimli's words. For unlike the dwarf, he had spotted the light long ago, and though the darkness was dampening, it did not affect him such as the other.

'You see true, my friend, and with joy I shall welcome it also.'

It was not long after this, that the two companions and the silent hobbit reached the end of the long stairs. And when they did so, Gimli let loose a loud and triumphant laugh, though he was quickly silenced by the splendour of the hall that lay before him.

'Never have I seen such a dwelling!' He cried in amazement. 'Never! Not even in my own homeland. What is this place, as it seems strange to see a village of hobbits underground!'

The elf laughed with mirth and looked about scene around him for the second time.

'Your eyes are slow, Gimli! I knew of this place while the darkness of the stairs was still upon us. But you are right, for this place still surprises me.' He paused and shrugged nonchalantly, 'Though I never knew hobbits to be so secretive!'

The hobbit that stood in front, turned and smirked with a nasty grin.

'Welcome to m-' He never got the chance to finish his sentence however, as Legolas spotted none other than Samwise Gamgee running with all his might, and forcing himself tiredly through the numerous crowds.

The hobbit reached them not moments after that, and leaned forward with his hands on his knees, wheezing and out of breath.

'Master elf!' He spoke breathlessly. 'Master elf, you are needed by Strider!'

'What would Aragorn need me for in such a hurry?' Legolas questioned with a raised brow.

'Its Merry…something's wrong, we have to hurry, he needs your help.' And with that Sam pulled tiredly on the elf's sleeve, dragging him into the large mass of people, and toward the huge hallway beyond.

With an odd feeling that something was very wrong, the elven prince followed, beckoning the dwarf to come as he was pulled into the swarming people of Hobbiton.

With a viscous grin back toward the hobbit who had been nothing but discourteous to them from the very start, Gimli succeeded the elf, shortly becoming swallowed up by the enormous, moving mass.

*****

The three sped hastily along the repetitive corridors of the building.

Legolas tried to quell the growing feeling of unease that settled into his mind, but with every relative step closer to their destination, the doomful emotion inside his grew.

So he continued on regardless, ignoring his slow healing ribs and his throbbing leg, and even though he was slowed, it was obvious Sam was getting left behind.

Stopping quickly, the elf turned to wait for the slowing hobbit. Dire urgency nagged constantly at him, and he could no longer wait.

'Which way?' He asked, unable to dispel his growing concern from his voice.

Glad for the haven of a rest, the gardener stopped and ran a clammy hand through his hair. 'Twenty three more….doors…your left…hurry.'

And with no further delay but a concerned look from the strangely quiet dwarf, he sprinted off once again, finally coming to stop at the named door. From inside rose sounds of raised voices, and accusatory tones.

Throwing the door open, Legolas took in the scene around him.

Not one foot apart from each other, and eye to eye were Pippin and Aragorn, arguing heatedly amongst themselves. Frodo sat unmoving, his head resting upon the white sheets and his hand gripping that of the equally still hobbit in the bed.

The elf moved on into the room, and quite abruptly hobbit and human ceased their debate.

'Finally!' Pippin cried in enormous frustration and anger. Aragorn silenced him with a menacing look.

'Legolas, there is something that needs your confirmation.' The Rangers voice had once again gained its previous strength, and hence saying this, he rather grimly summoned the elf to the bed.

The young prince strode rather hesitantly toward the ailing hobbit, and as he reached the cot where Merry lay, Aragorn pulled the sheets back, revealing the migrating wound.

'…I morë ranco a núra morníë tur ta úmëa macil…'

'So it is true then?' Aragorn replied with no more than a whisper, though it was audible to the elf.

Legolas spared but a brief and sorrowful nod. As any relief that had come to be from escaping the Nazgûl fled in grief as the full realisation of this tragedy arose.

Human and elf caught eyes in a long and soulful glance. They knew what they had to do.

AUTHORS NOTE: Well righty then, I know that chapter covered barely any time at all, and I know it was hardly worth waiting for, but it was necessary. There is still a lot of explaining to do, as this fic is developping too fast in my mind and not enough in words. If it gets too confusing, just tell me and I'll try and do something about it, or clarify it etc…though right now I think its going okay. Sorry about the short period of time this chapter covers, but as I said, I think its necessary.

I haven't edited this, so sorry for any error's that may pop up. I'll fix it tomorrow when I'm more awake, as editing is a stupid thing to do while half asleep^v^

TO: Lee…sorry about all the cliff hangers ay, but they're not so tedious when you get used to them. At least I'm updating them enough.

TO: Kaeera…Read Lee's note, and also sorry about the 'dragginess' (lol…lovelly word there ;)) of this chapter, I can hopefully say the next one will be much better, though there are never any guarantees? Oh, and yeah I was grinning when I read that…but not evilly…promise! ^v^

TO: Calandra…Your serious?!…you were in your exam where you were reading this?!…sheesh, I'm sorry to disappoint you, and I only hope your not in another final when you read this one, as it'll piss ya right off! Sozza!

TO: Jet…You can scroll down now, promise^v^

TO: Sundance…yeah, I know there wasn't no fight, and that'll probably annoy you. But there will be one soon, okay?

TO: Arwen…Nope…Pippin didn't jump on my bed…that was my little cat trying to wake me up this morning…maybe he was reincarnated? **grins** I know your getting impatient with this story, and I'm really, really sorry ay, but it just wouldn't make any sense if I didn't ramble some. Bear with me, but if not…come back in a couple of weeks, cause a few days could have gone by in this by then. Hehe…nah! I'M KIDDING! KEEP READING! Lol…;)

Oh and ps: I have no intention of killing Merry, okay^v^

TO: Shen Panda…Wow! Theres no such thing as a bad cliffie? Really?…okay, then you won't mind this one right?…cause theres no such thing right? **looks toward Shen for reassurance** Hehe…oh, and all will be explained later on about those nasty Nazgûl okay?…I might actually add something into the prologue to explain whats happening more, but I haven't decided yet. If I do though, I'll tell all of ya's.

Anyway, TO EVERYONE: Thanks for all the great reviews! You guys are awesome! But your probably also getting frustrated at my lack of progress, just write it in any reviews of this story you do, and it should get me cracking, though don't flame me too much, okay? Hehe. Bubye for now!

OH! And that bit of Sindarin elvish that was spoken towards the end roughly (and I mean really roughly) translates as this… 'The black arm of darkness now wields its evil sword.' It doesn't mean much now, but it will later on…promise ^v^