Series: Whispers in the Dark – Part 1 Author: Nessa Tulcakelume E-mail: nessa_tulcakelume@ yahoo.co.uk Website: http://www.nimnastian.net/nessa Pairing: Legolas/Aragorn Rating: PG (but will climb to NC-17) Warnings: AU Summary: Something lurks in the darkness of the forest… Disclaimer: All characters belong to Tolkien. The Shadow The persistent feeling of unease had long since settled at the base of their spines, coiling like an errant serpent. Yet, no one was willing to give voice to their fears – they were without doubt, plagued by an unwelcome presence. The King had wanted to survey his lands, making sure that the wayward Orcs would not breach their territory and had brought along two of his best warriors and friends, Boromir as well as his younger brother, Faramir. Nevertheless, the presence of such fearsome warriors did little to save them from the plight that they had consistently found themselves in. It had been almost a week now that the men of Gondor had gone without any form of meat in their diet, feeding instead on an increasingly stale supply of bread that they had brought with them for provision. Traps had been set and weapons sharpened, but that was all to no avail because not a deer, not even a rabbit had they managed to ensnare. Traps were dismantled during the night, whatever creature that was caught under the cover of darkness had been freed. Once there was even an attempt to free their horses for the ropes that bound the animals to the trees were cut and their saddles thrown aside. It was fortunate then that the animals were loyal to their Masters and thus did not escape. The men had tried to find the source of their discomfort, determined to put a stop to the mischief that had been done to them, only managing to unearth a chilling discovery – there were no evidence of footprints. No imprints upon the soft forest ground nor broken twigs or crushed leaves to show that the forest floor had been disturbed during the night. None whatsoever. “It is not possible,” said Boromir, distractingly running his fingers through his hair, pushing away the sweaty locks from his face. “Even the slightest of body must leave its mark upon the ground. It was as if the rogue were made of nothing but air!” “I have read of spirits that roam the forest at night, waylaying unsuspecting wanderers. Perhaps we have displeased the guardian of the forest with our intrusion upon the woods?” Faramir suggested, squinting his eyes against the glare of the sun that had penetrated through the thin canopy of the forest trees. “How you prattle, Faramir. It seems clear little brother, that you have been listening to too many of Gandalf’s tales speaking of trees that walked in forests and of spirit beings that guard the trees. Nay, I do not believe in this stories, do you, sire?” Aragorn smiled, witnessing the way at which the two brothers good-naturedly argued with one another. It was typical of Boromir to contradict whatever Faramir said, even if it was for argument’s sake. But the King knew that deep down in Boromir’s heart, he loved his brother more than life itself. “I do not know what stalks us, my friends, but what I *can* tell you is that this… this *shadow*… does not mean us any harm. Perhaps it is just as Faramir said, and we have intruded upon his territory. But this forest is within the realm of Gondor – property of Gondor – and we will not be frightened by someone who will not show his face to us nor face us with a sword in hand.” Boromir snorted, as if to indicate his disbelief that any person who had tried to sabotage their attempts at ensnaring a meal could possibly not “mean any harm”. But he became silent, deferring to the King’s wisdom. “Do not fear, Boromir,” said Aragorn with a laugh at the look upon Boromir’s face, “If it is deer meat you crave, it shall be as you desire. Do not worry, dear friend. We will taste the sweetness of red meat before reaching the White City.” So it was said and so they moved on, dwelling no more on the subject of the strange shadow, never noticing a keen pair of eyes watching them as they headed towards the thickest part of the forest… *~*~*~*~*~* The night had fallen, covering everything in a cloak of darkness that blinded the men, forcing them to make camp. It was quiet. So quiet that the men felt the strange unease they had felt escalating into a tension that robbed them of sleep. Something was going to happen. They sensed it more sharply this time… that feeling of being followed… being watched… and being stalked as if they were animals. “I do not like this, my lord,” Faramir whispered, his eyes trying to peer through the stubborn darkness in hopes of being able to see something… see anything. Anything but the all-consuming blackness that overwhelmed their senses. “It is not natural, this darkness. Something is out there,” Faramir continued, his hand resting upon the hilt of his sword, ready to attack should anything spring out from the darkness. Aragorn stood up, his back straight and head tossed back. He was the complete picture of the King of Men – proud and regal of bearing as he spoke in voice that could send tremors of fears even through the most hardened heart of the enemies. “If he that seek to fight the Lord Aragorn, King of Gondor, let him step forward now and draw his sword against him,” he cried, the sharp note of a sword brushing against metal rang out loud in the blackness of the night as Anduril was drawn forth from its sheath, the blade glinting white even in the dark. A sudden rustling in the tree above caught their attention. Something was moving. And it was moving quickly, as if it were leaping nimbly from branch to branch… from tree to tree. “What kind of a man walks on trees?” Boromir whispered in horror as the rustlings became more frantic. “This is no Man. Can you not tell? Hark! Their numbers have increased!” Faramir cried, his sword now drawn in preparation for battle as the noises from the leaves seemed to surround them completely. But the King just laughed, the sudden outburst suddenly stilling the motions in the trees. It became quiet again, the silence broken only by the sounds of the King’s deep laughter. “Fear not, my friends. He only meant to frighten us off by trying to lead us into thinking that there is more than one in the trees. He is alone and will not attack unless provoked. Let us rest and take turns to keep watch just in case our escort decides to visit us in the night. Boromir, you keep first watch,” Aragorn said, as he lay down upon the ground to rest, closing his eyes as he did. “How do you know this, my lord? How can you tell?” Faramir asked, his worries not allayed as his eyes darted from tree to tree. The King stifled a yawn as he answered. “As you have said yourself, Faramir, this is no Man. If it had wanted to kill us, it would have done so already. Now be at ease and rest.” Before long, Aragorn and Faramir fell into a light sleep, leaving Boromir to contend with the darkness alone. to be continued… Series: Whispers in the Dark – Part 2 Author: Nessa Tulcakelume E-mail: nessa_tulcakelume@ yahoo.co.uk Website: http://www.nimnastian.net/nessa Pairing: Legolas/Aragorn Rating: PG (but will climb to NC-17) Warnings: AU Summary: The shadow has a face... Disclaimer: All characters belong to Tolkien. The Kill It was not until later in the night that Faramir realized that it was not Aragorn who was asleep by his side, but his brother. The King and Boromir must have switched places during the night because a few feet away from where they laid down to rest, he could make out the tall figure of the King standing with his head thrown back towards the heavens. Faramir sat up, blurry eyed before noticing that light had once more came to the forest where a few hours before, darkness had dwelled. The moon shone once again and in her soft light, Aragorn’s sharp features were put into relief, his face beautiful and severe at the same time. His head was cocked to one side, a clear indication that he had heard some noise in the dark that had nothing to do with the wind blowing in the trees. Something was watching them. And it was close. Very close. And a deep anger filled the woods, its intensity so terrible that the Men could sense it in their very bones. Even Boromir, who was asleep, could feel it, his body stirring as he resurfaced to the realm of consciousness, coming awake in a matter of seconds. Aragorn turned towards where the brothers lay, putting a finger to his lips in a clear warning for them to be silent. “The white moon has awakened and all that lay in the shadows shall be revealed. Be on your guard,” the King warned as he silently motioned his men to get to their feet and pick up their weapons. “Where are we going?” Boromir asked, his voice thick with sleep and exhaustion. “We are going to find food. We will see if our traps have caught any beast fit to be eaten. But be alert, I fear our escort is near and I found this embedded in the tree close to where we were resting,” Aragorn continued, holding up an arrow for the brothers to see. “What does this mean?” Faramir asked, bewildered. “It means our escort is armed and he wants us to know that. But come along now and do not fret over such trifling matters. We must look for food or we will not have the strength to make our way back to Minas Tirith.” And with that the Men set out with weapons in hand, their eyes warily surveying their surroundings while their feet moved quickly and silently over the forest floor. Some hours passed and dawn was fast approaching. Yet the men once more found their devices dismantled and any hopes of feasting upon meat dashed as they gazed at the ropes that had been cut and wooden traps shattered to let the captured creature lose. “We must look for food, my lord. We have lingered too long here in the wilderness and whatever rations we have brought with us will not be enough to sustain us for the journey home,” Boromir said, his voice calm despite the anger that festered in his heart. The King was silent, quietly surveying what was left of the trap before his quick eyes noticed the drops of blood that had dried upon a splinter of wood. He smiled, his face mirroring relief and hope. He bent down, his fingertips lightly running over the sharp edge of the splinter and he looked at the blood that had come off upon his finger pads. “This is fresh blood. A creature had been ensnared in this trap not too long ago and had only just been released. It cannot have gone far for it is injured. Come, my friends! We must track it down!” he cried and dashed off, disappearing into the thick undergrowth leaving the brothers to follow him. And followed him they did – Aragorn taking them deeper into the forest, their paths zigzagging through the trees before reaching a clearing where they saw, resting upon the ground, a deer. It was indeed injured, its hind legs bloodied by the trap making it impossible for it to escape should the men come upon them. Victory was theirs and the King drew out his bow and arrow, the deadly weapon pointing straight at the animal’s heart. It happened too quickly. The whistle of an arrow leaving its bow. The sickening sound of the sharp tip sinking into warm flesh. The sudden, shrill sound emitting from the deer as it struggled to escape, its hind legs buckling uselessly as it tried to run away… But not before there was a loud exclamation from the brothers as something leapt down from the trees, trying but failing to deflect the path of the King’s arrow before it reached the deer’s heart. “N’uma! N’uma!” it cried, the Men only registering a blur of green, brown and silver before it sprinted away towards the direction where the deer escaped to. “After him!” Aragorn said, his brows furrowing in incredulity before running off in hot pursuit of his prey. Despite the state of utter confusion, the brothers followed the King’s orders, the three men scurrying after the lithe figure before them that ran as swiftly as the wind. The figure seemed to disappear amongst the thick vegetation after a moment, and the men might not have been successful in tracking their strange attacker if it had not been for the piteous sound made by the dying deer amidst the clearing. They approached with caution, Aragorn taking the lead while he carefully parted the barriers that the plants imposed upon them. And there, so close to where they were hiding, they could see – see something that seemingly surpasses belief as their eyes were fixed upon the sight before them. It was a Man … yet not a man for it was shaped more delicately than any Gondorian male that had ever walked the earth. His skin was fair, seeming as though he had never felt the warmth of the sun upon his skin and his hair a strange shade of silver and gold. He was kneeling before the deer, cradling the head tenderly in the crook of his arms as if he were tending to a baby and whispered into its ear while the animal panted in pain, every breath it took rattling in its chest. And the Men watched in increasing disbelief as the deer appeared to be listening to the strange, melodious tilt of his voice, its trashing slowly subsiding as if it were calmed by the very sound of the stranger’s voice. Then with a sudden stiffening of the figure’s shoulder a loud crack was heard as he snapped the deer’s neck, instantly ending the beast’s misery. The slight shoulders trembled for a moment, its nose pressing into the deer’s neck while the Men looked on, silent and wary. And then came the silence, thick and uncomfortable as the stranger continued to cradle the dead animal’s head in his arms, gently rocking it and singing his strange song… “*Nadorhuan*,” a voice hissed, the anger lacing it making it tremble. The figure sprang to his feet, his eyes glittering with fury and teeth bared in aggression. “Aragorn, look out!” Boromir roared, grasping his sword while the stranger charged towards the King with a gleaming knife clutched in his fist… to be continued…