Thirteen

Lancaeriel was frightened. Very frightened. And she had good reason.

Falling from her horse had knocked the wind out of her and she had pain in her lower back, where she had landed on a rock. She had laid on the ground, trying to breathe, knowing she needed to move, but unable to draw a breath.

Her horses, frenzied, had run off without her.

It had taken her what felt like an eternity to be able to draw in a breath. She lay gasping for air, trying to figure out how badly she was hurt, and wondering what she would do now, when she heard the noises coming through the trees.

She had tried to still her frantic breathing, but it was too late. The men had found her. They had jerked her painfully to her feet, tied her hands behind her back and forced her to walk through the trees with them. She had tried to tell them she was injured, but the big man who seemed to be in charge of them had shouted at her to shut up and walk.

Still trying to catch her breath, hurting and sore from her fall, and frightened, she had no other choice. She limped along, half dragged through the trees until they came to a clearing, where the men stopped and began to argue.

From what she had been able to piece together as they had walked, they were in the woods, searching for something, when they had heard her horses and given chase.

Now she stood, held by one of the men, while the others argued over what to do with her…and what to do to her.

She began to shake, the horror overwhelming her. What a fool she had been to remain alone, thinking she could protect herself. Now she would suffer a fate worse than death, followed by death, for their kind did not endure such a violation or the grief it evoked.

The dark-haired man, who appeared to be the leader, was shouting at the others to be quiet, to let him think. But she had heard what a couple of the men had said, what they wanted to do to her.

Lancaeriel felt ill. The pain in her lower back throbbed with every frantic heartbeat. There was no way she could escape! She could hardly breathe.

Two men were demanding they had gone without a woman long enough and fate had given them a pretty prize. Another was yelling that it was wrong. But the one who really frightened her was silent. The oldest of the bunch, he just stared at her with a dark hunger in his eyes.

The man grasping her arm was angry. He listened for only a few minutes before easing Lancaeriel towards a tree and eased her down. She started to fight, wondering if he would take advantage of her while the others argued, but he shook his head.

"Just sit here," he said, his anger directed at the others. "I won't hurt you."

With her wrists bound behind her, and her back throbbing, Lancaeriel could only sit as instructed, tears streamed down her cheeks.

The young, hazel-eyed man who had been holding her strode towards the others, lending his voice to the arguments.

"You cannot allow this Brigus! I will not stand here and let you do such a thing!" He shouted.

The other young man continued his own protests, "This is wrong, Brigus, and you know it! I will not be a part of this! We never agreed to come here to rape some innocent woman!"

Two other men began to violently protest, saying they had not found anything for all the time they had spent searching the wood. They deserved some 'payment' for the time lost. This started a whole new round of arguing, the men completely focused on each other.

Suddenly, two arms encircled her from behind, and Lancaeriel gasped. Terrified, she looked up into the face of a fair-haired elf, his grey eyes darkened in anger.

Sudden relief poured over her. This must be the one Rani had spoken about to her. He wore the weapons of a warrior of Eryn Lasgalen, but his clothing was marked with a different emblem. Rani had said he was from Ithilien.

Without a word, the strange elf lifted her to her feet.

"Come," he whispered, urging her towards the thick undergrowth in the wall of trees. She tried, but the pain in her back was not lessening. She took a step and nearly went back down. Seeing her distress, he lifted her up in his arms, turned and fled.

Their escape was not without notice. The man called Brigus had turned just in time to observe the elves slip into the underbrush. With a shout, he pointed and all six men charged after them.

With her rescuer's movement restricted by her bound form, Lancaeriel knew their chances were slim. The men chasing them drew closer, and she watched in horror, over the elf's shoulder, as the older man threw something in their direction.

A second later they both tumbled to the ground.

— ~ —

Elvenking's Halls

Aragorn struggled within himself. He knew it would be pointless to start a search so soon before nightfall, yet his heart bid him to find his friend. Something stirred, some premonition deep within him that he had not felt in some time.

Gimli stood beside the horses, staring off into the trees as he stroked his beard.

Aragorn knew the dwarf was frustrated. With Daehul's appearance, and no sign of Legolas, their hopes of tracking the elf were diminished. But despite his earlier remark, Aragorn did not give up hope. He would search for some sign of their friend, but it would be wise to wait for morning to begin.

His decision made, Aragorn turned to tell Gimli, when he saw another flash of white out of the corner of his eye from where he had seen the first. A feeling of apprehension filled him and he began to move towards it. Could it be Legolas was indeed close by? That he was perhaps injured or unable to answer them?

He strode purposefully through the trees and nearly tripped over his feet when a small girl in a white dress appeared from behind a tree. She looked up at him, and Aragorn caught his breath.

Her eyes… The deep blue were lit with the light of the stars.

"You must come with me," was all she said. She watched and waited as Aragorn stood in shock.

"Who are you?" he asked, knowing at first sight that the child was more than she appeared.

He had spent his life among the elves, and while elven children had an uncanny ability to appear seemingly out of thin air, their eyes did not glow with starlight. There were few left in Arda who held such light in their eyes. Aragorn had known two in his lifetime. Galadriel had sailed West with Elrond, and Glorfindel dwelled in Imladris with Elladan and Elrohir.

"You will know in time," she said, her voice grave. "But now is not that time. You must come with me."

Behind him, one of the horses whinnied. He glanced back to where he had left Gimli. Daehul was standing at alert, his ears pricked towards the northwest.

Aragorn turned back to the girl…but she was gone.

Whatever was happening here was disturbing, and Aragorn began to be concerned that Legolas was in danger from more than himself. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and waited.

"I am here," he said softly, knowing she could hear him. "What is it you wish of me?"

As suddenly as she had vanished, she reappeared from behind a tree not fifteen feet ahead of him. She stared at him a moment, then turned and looked towards the northwest, her pose not dissimilar to that of Daehul.

Then she turned back to him with that heart stopping look in her eyes. Starlight. Pure starlight filled her eyes.

"You must come with me…" she repeated, catching him in her midnight gaze.

Aragorn stood transfixed for a moment, until she spoke again, pleading as she walked back to him. "Please, you must come with me. I know where your friend is…and he is in trouble."

Aragorn sighed. When was Legolas not in trouble?

He stared at the small being before him, debating within himself, then glanced back at Gimli once more. A small hand found his and he looked down, for some reason accepting what he knew he should not be seeing.

She implored him with that gaze to act, and addressed him again, her voice ethereal and light. "Yes, summon the dwarf and bring your packs and all three horses. You will need healing supplies. Then, come back and follow me. I will lead you to them."

Aragorn moved woodenly back to the dwarf, pondering why he was following the orders of such a strange being. Yet, his heart told him this was the path he should take, so he explained to Gimli in haste what he had seen.

Gimli stood frozen, looking at him as if he had lost his mind. "Aragorn, where is this child?" the dwarf asked.

Aragorn pointed to where she stood in the trees, waiting for them. "She is right there before you, Gimli! Now hurry, we must move quickly. Halruin!" he summoned his horse as he lifted his saddle.

"But Aragorn?" the dwarf's voice sounded strange. "Aragorn, there is no one there…"

To Be Continued…