Disclaimer: I don’t own them and I’ll put them back when I’m done!

Author’s Note: Sorry I didn’t update yesterday; my dad spent the whole day on the computer! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and thank you again for reading!

Chapter Six: Allies

Aragorn woke to a room filled with string. For several moments, he lay on his back, staring at the twine criss-crossing his chamber, then he sat up with a jerk.

They had gotten him! Twine was strung everywhere like a great spider web, winding its way across the room from his door to the balcony and back again. Aragorn groaned and looked around for his knife.

It took his half an hour to cut his way from his bed to the balcony. Aragorn did not even try to get to the door. A short walk of five feet was bad enough, but it was nearly triple that to the chamber door. Aragorn stood on the balcony in his trousers and under tunic, glowering back at the beauty of Rivendell in annoyance.

What had he done to deserve this? He thought that he had been nothing but kind to the hobbits since they had arrived in Rivendell. Before that, he had admittedly been brusque and short, but that had been a very stressful time. Frodo’s injury had not been any help either. But surely, he had done nothing to deserve this!

Aragorn leaned on the railing and looked around. It was fairly early, and there were very few people around. He couldn’t see anyone in this particular area, but he could hear boots thudding on the path. Someone, at least, was coming. Aragorn leaned out farther, with every intention of calling out for help.

As luck would have it, the person to round the corner was Boromir. Aragorn cursed to himself; it would be his future steward, and not someone like Legolas or the twins. Where were the twins, anyway? He had to speak to them before Merry and Pippin did. But first things first. Steeling himself, Aragorn called out to the man walking below him.

“Good morning, Boromir,” he said. Boromir stopped and looked up. His face was carefully expressionless, but Aragorn saw something like curiosity flash in his eyes. “I require your assistance, if you would be so kind.”

“What is the problem, my lord?” Boromir asked.

Aragorn hesitated. How could he say this without sounding like a fool? “Well, er, the younger hobbits have covered my room in string, and I need you to fetch your sword and come help me cut it down. I’m trapped here unless I get some help.”

Boromir goggled at him. “Certainly. Er, may I ask where your own sword is?”

Being reforged, Aragorn thought dismally. Aloud, he said, “It’s in the wardrobe, and I can’t reach it. Would you please hurry?”

Boromir nodded and turned up the path. Aragorn sighed and looked back at his room. This was so embarrassing.

*****

Boromir knocked once before pushing Aragorn’s door open. He gave a burst of amazed laughter upon seeing the scads of string laced all over the room. Aragorn, leaning against the balcony door, glowered at him.

“You really do need help, don’t you?” Boromir remarked, unsheathing his sword and hacking away at the string. “They certainly got you back.”

“Did you know about the bubbles?” Aragorn snapped.

Boromir nodded, smiling a little. “Master Baggins mentioned something about it at dinner last night. I believe he saw you setting it up. Quite clever, if you ask me. This is, too.”

“They also short-sheeted the bed,” Aragorn sighed. “What am I going to do to them?”

Boromir pulled some of the string down with his hand and continued hacking. “May I ask what this is about, Aragorn?” he asked. “Those lads are terribly polite to me.”

“They would be. I have no idea why they’re being so vile,” Aragorn replied. “Although I’m not really much better, retaliating. I aim to find out. After, of course, I get them back for this.”

Boromir couldn’t think of anything to say. He did not particularly want to become involved, but he felt sorry for Aragorn. The man should at least know why he was battling the hobbits.

“Shall I ask for you? That ought to make it fair,” he said.

Aragorn gave him such an earnest look that Boromir’s pity rose higher. “Would you? Thank you.”

“I assure you, it’s not a problem,” Boromir replied, giving one last hack at the string. By this time, he had reached Aragorn at the balcony door. A long pathway across the room had been cleared. “There you are. I suggest you have the maids clean the rest of it up.”

Aragorn nodded. “I will. Thank you, my friend.”

Boromir just smiled, a trifle bemused. Rivendell was turning out to be a much more interesting place than he had originally assumed it would be.

*****

Merry was not pleased. From his place at the breakfast table, he could see Strider sitting beside Lady Arwen, talking to her earnestly. He looked well rested and well groomed, and Merry was annoyed to no end. It should have taken him hours to fight free of all that string.

“Maybe he sleeps with a knife under his pillow,” Pippin suggested, tucking into his eggs. “I wouldn’t put it past him. I’m still amazed he slept through us being in there.”

Merry sighed. He and Pippin had gotten up in the dead of night to roll the room full of string, and Aragorn had done nothing more than roll over once and sigh. Of course, they had been near silent and had not gone near him. Merry had no doubt that if they had even touched Aragorn or his bed, the ranger would have jumped up and killed them before he was even fully awake. Bilbo had warned them that Rangers could be violent like that.

“I wonder what he’ll do next,” Merry said contemplatively.

Nothing, it seemed. That day passed quite peacefully, for everyone except the lads. Every time they saw Aragorn, the man simply smiled at them. By luncheon, they were nearly frantic with worry. It was like sitting on pins, Pippin thought as he and Merry nervously ate their soup. He hated suspense.

That afternoon, the sons of Elrond returned from their travels. They spent a long time closeted with Elrond, than went walking in the garden with Aragorn. The lads saw them speaking quietly together in Elvish as they walked up and down the paths. The twins looked positively gleeful, and all three of the walkers waved at the hobbits as they passed.

As soon as they were gone, Pippin clutched at Merry. “I can’t handle this!” he wailed. “They’re being too proper! And Strider is getting the Elves to help him! Merry, what are we going to do?!”

Merry gripped Pippin’s arm. “Don’t panic!” he snapped. “I think that’s what he wants us to do.”

Nonetheless, Merry felt as frightened as Pippin looked. A happy, smiling Ranger could only mean trouble.

Suddenly, the peace and quiet was broken by a resounding scream from the area of the library. The lads leapt to their feet, hearts hammering. What on earth had happened now?

TBC