WHISPERS OF THE RING
The Horde of Isengard
Dedicated to Alexis, SoE fangirl.
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They rode with some haste, and the concern on Aragorn's mind only seemed to grow heavier as they approached Isengard. Even Boromir sensed that something was deeply amiss, though he was not as familiar with Aragorn's disposition as Legolas was. Once the ranger's distraction might have seemed to him an opportunity to gain advantage over Aragorn, but instead he found himself only filled with worry as well. It was not usual for a ranger, he was certain, to have such concern over a small band of orcs; nor was it usual for himself, a more than capable warrior, to have fear from such news either. The Lady of Rohan might find it a disturbing sign, but he should not.
The voice of the elf broke into his thought. "Is it not possible that this band of orcs was merely driven by hunger to attack whomever came across their lair? They may signal no darker thing than that we were foolish to hope their numbers had suffered so greatly after the diminishing of Sauron."
Boromir looked up, not at the false cheer in Legolas's words, but at the concern behind them. The elf seemed eager to make what small consolation he could to his companion. But Aragorn's brow only knitted further, and he did not slow his horse so that they might talk.
"Good that Éowyn was there, to drive them back from attacking some village that might not be able to defend itself. And they would not dare attack Isengard."
At that, Aragorn turned in his saddle, and caught the Elf with a dark look. "Would they not, if that was what they were driven to by Sauron?"
"Saruman would make short work of them."
"Why then did the Wizard allow them so near to the borders of his land?"
Legolas did not answer immediately; where his body brushed the elf's, Boromir could feel him tense. "His attention has been bent to searching for some sign of Mithrandir, and to the interrogation of Gollum. Such a small band of orcs would be no threat to Orthanc."
"You speak reason, my friend. But I fear, the dark forces do not always move with reason."
Legolas was quiet, and Boromir held his own thoughts in silence as well. Truly, though he was wary that these two accomplished warriors were so unnerved, the threat of the Dark Lord seemed far away. Even Gondor seemed far and distant in his mind, though his concern for his city grew with each day they drew away from it. Strange though it was, though the worry for Gondor was still his own, he seemed at some proper harmony with his fate. He must go to Rivendell, where surely they would see the error of their way, and return him to his Stewardship, to aid him in the removal of his traitorous brother. He had the ring, and with the ring always came luck, and men saw things as he willed them to.
The sun had risen high above when they came nearly to Isengard. They found some signs of the dispute between Rohan and the orcs: a body not burned, partially scavenged by wolves, a crude orcish blade, a scattering of black, ugly orcish arrows. Boromir felt a shudder to look upon them, thick black shafts coated with some foulness, leaving a strange whispering of dark things in his heart.
"The make of the shaft is strange to me," Legolas said, after examining them for some time. "It is not such as I have seen from the bows of the orcs that sometimes descend the Misty Mountains."
Aragorn took one in hand, and turned it slowly. "More like to the few Men that live in these parts." He rolled the arrow in a scrap of fabric and stowed it in his pack. "Saruman will wish to see this, if the orcs have raided the men, or worse."
"Men have aided Sauron in the past," Legolas said softly, but Aragorn did not reply. "All are given to the temptations he may offer, even we elves."
They mounted their horses again, and Boromir was glad to leave the place; he had no love for orcs, and some black shadow hovered over his heart at the sight of their trail. He clutched a hand to the ring, and did not look back as they rode away.
* * *
They had not traveled far enough from it for Boromir's contentment when Legolas suddenly reined in his horse to a stop. "Aragorn," he said sharply, though softly, so that his voice was nearly lost in the hoofbeats of Aragorn's mount. "Someone approaches."
Aragorn wheeled his horse, and they withdrew from the path, melting into the trees. Not long after, Boromir heard the approach of horses, the jingle of tack suggesting riders.
He heard Aragorn and Legolas both draw a sharp breath in surprise when the riders came into sight: two tall Elves, with hair as dark as Aragorn's and faces proud and matched. Brothers, or twins, perhaps, though Boromir had seen few Elves to know whether such close resemblance was resultant of his own ignorance. The riders halted at the very spot Boromir and the others had withdrawn, and one laughed gaily. He called out in the noble tongue. "Estel, brother! You should well know that to hide from us, you would need to exert far more skill than a novice."
To Boromir's surprise, Aragorn rode forth out of hiding, into the light of the path, a smile upon his face. Legolas followed, taking Boromir with him
Aragorn tipped his chin in their direction. "I blame my companion, whose skill is lacking."
Boromir opened his mouth to protest, but Legolas's playful scowl caused him to realize it was a jest directed at the Elf. "Such a habit of men, truly! To blame another for one's own lack of skill. I hardly know why I should keep such a man at my side."
One of the elves dismounted, nodding solemnly to Legolas. "Indeed, we have heard much rumor that has caused us to question your reason, Legolas!"
The man and Elves shared laughter, and then embraced as familiar as brothers. Finally one of the Elves turned to Boromir, and looked to him curiously. "Is this the emissary from Gondor? You lack manners, brother, not to tell us his name."
Boromir braced for what must surely be a humiliating account of what had passed; but Aragorn merely said, "You are right, Elladan. Boromir son of Denethor himself is this, Steward of Gondor, come to witness our council as the voice of the White City."
"Mae govannen, Boromir o Gondor," Elladan inclined his head. "I am Elladan, son of Elrond, and this is my brother Elrohir." Boromir found himself the subject of a deep and inquisitive gaze, but he felt not the perceptiveness of Aragorn in it. "Either it is that you do not trust any man beneath you to represent Gondor in Imladris, or that you bear such urgent news that you must bring it yourself to us; for surely it is a strange thing for the Steward of Gondor to leave his seat."
Boromir found no answer on his tongue, and suddenly he felt trapped and filled with anger and guilt, at what he did not know. He only wished to be away from the Elf, as surely as he had wished to be far from Aragorn and Legolas before. "Indeed I should be in Gondor," he answered sharply, and looked to Aragorn. The ranger merely watched him patiently, without accusation or fear, and he was reminded that Aragorn had not spoken of his shame when he might have. "But my brother and this man of Numenor were most...convincing. The news I have to bear cannot be spoken by any other."
Elladan nodded. "Perhaps there is hope for you after all, Estel! For I perceive that the honorable Steward is most stubborn when he wishes to be. Again, well met, Boromir, and I hope that you shall find my father's house welcoming when you come to the end of your journey."
"Sons of Elrond," Legolas broke his observing silence, "What is it you do, come so far to the South, when the council gathers at Imladris?"
"Come to look for you." It was Elrohir who answered; Boromir thought that they must be twins, for the timbre of their voice was exactly matched, as was the tilt of their chins as they studied the two men before him. "Though it is a delight to be reunited with you, Estel, Legolas of Mirkwood, and to have met you, Steward of Gondor; it is dark tidings that we bring, and evil signs which led us here."
"Orcs," Legolas said, his eyes black and his brow shadowed.
"Yes, orcs," Elladan agreed. "They think to advance on Imladris."
"They do advance on Imladris." Elrohir's face was more somber than his brother's. "They number far beyond what our scouts reported still existed in Middle-Earth. At the time we left, we counted six bands headed towards our father's house; but Elladan and I found signs of more, though not all of father's men believe our warnings. We would have stayed to drive them off, but our father gave us more urgent mission." His expression was an easy read: he would rather have bloodied his hands, but his loyalty to his father was strong.
"Imladris will hold," Aragorn said firmly, and by the tone of his voice even Boromir could not doubt him.
"Indeed, it will hold. The yrch are easily defeated. But they are a sign of worse things, Estel. A shadow hangs over us; time is no longer our friend."
"Such gloom!" Elladan laughed. "Ride hard, Estel, but have faith. Our father will hold Imladris, and we shall diminish the orcs on our return!" He and his brother looked fierce and terrible for a moment, as if the two of them alone would slaughter the entirety of the invaders.
Aragorn nodded, clasping his hand to Elladan's shoulder. He was deep in thought, as troubled as Elrohir openly was. "We will go as quickly as we can, after we have met with Saruman--"
"Saruman has gone on to Imladris already." Elrohir began turning his mount. "We met him first, and then searched for some sign of you."
"Then that is why the orcs..."
Elladan's eyes flashed. "Here as well?"
As if in answer, a black-fletched arrow flew where the Elf's throat had been but a heartbeat before, burying itself deep into a tree behind them.
"Fly!" Elladan hissed.
The party scattered, a flurry of motion disappearing into the woods, as arrows chased close behind them. Elladan and Elrohir did not allow themselves to be driven far; once in, they wheeled around and all but disappeared into the forest.
The orcs that followed did not see them as they were cut down by the fearsome twins, bright elf-blades flashing streaked with black like dark oil: blood of orcs that trailed thickly down their arms as well. "Celebrían!" they cried, "Naneth ádarem acharn!"
Boromir looked twice as the twins hewed orc-flesh; these orcs were larger than the ones he had encountered, black-skinned and man-height. Aragorn turned his horse to follow, and Legolas did also.
The Elf bent his bow and sent many arrows flying into the darkness of the woods. Aragorn fell back until he was beside them, and tossed a sword to Boromir, short but useable, one of many weapons that he carried about his person. "I trust you will not murder us now," he said, and then rode ahead once more, using his own shortbow to fell the orcish archers that threatened them.
Out of nowhere the orcish horde swarmed around them, stinking foul beasts. Boromir could not fathom how they had not noticed the approaching orcs, for they seemed too brutish for sly tactics. He thought not much more on it as Legolas's horse stumbled. He rolled free of the animal and he was on his feet, attacking savagely the orcs who came at them. One left, one right, one behind; six more came to take their place. Soon his sleeves were drenched to his body with black blood, and he found himself back to back with Aragorn who had drawn his fabled sword.
Against Boromir's chest, the ring began to burn. It seemed as if it sung with the same intensity as the pounding of blood through his veins, the rush of battle. His fingers ached to be adorned with it, gold and gleaming, his good-luck charm. Only his fear that it would slip away in the slickness of blood kept him from obeying, from flashing it openly in brazen defiance of all who stood around him. For a moment he was sure that if he wore the ring, even the orcs would obey him, turned to the power of his command.
The lunging bulk of an orc disrupted his thought, and viscously he swung his blade through it, a wide arc that ended in a surprising clash of metal on metal.
He looked up, came back to his senses. Aragorn stood matched blade to blade with him, studying his face with some concern. "Careful of your blows, son of Denethor. Many other opportunities you have had to murder me, and now you would do it when you do not intend to?"
Boromir stood, wiping his blade, realizing they now stood in a circle of carnage. He saw one of the Elf brothers strike down a fleeing orc in the distance. "I am not used to this blade," he answered stiffly, though he disliked casting doubt on his own skills with a sword. "It cuts easier than I am accustomed to."
"I think you do not lie," was all that Aragorn replied.
The Dúnadan cleaned off his sword as well, resheathed it, then bent to retrieve a broken arrow on the ground. "These orcs were strange, and their arrows, likewise."
Legolas came towards them, leading his horse, who did not seem badly hurt from the fall. "The fighting Uruk-Hai, one called himself."
"Sauron has created himself a new horror." Aragorn shook his head. "Yet another sign he is not as weak as we wish to think." The ranger straightened, turning the arrow in his hands. "Perhaps these strange orcs were the same who attacked Éowyn?"
"Would she not have said something?"
"This arrow is like to the one we found near to Isengard."
Legolas fell silent, thoughtful.
The sons of Elrond returned with their clothing covered in gore and their eyes shining brightly. Elrohir particularly looked cheered; from his belt dangled a bit of suspicious hair and tooth. They sang an Elvish song of hunting, first alternating verses, then with their voices joined in eerie harmony.
Si hereg urui siria
Si path soga huith
Lîn ylf vrand panno
Pân drega beng veleg.When they finished, they turned to Aragorn. Elladan spoke. "You should make haste to Imladris."
Aragorn studied them carefully; it seemed to Boromir he knew what was to come next. "Alas, my horse was slain beneath me, and Legolas's steed, though loyal, will not carry us all."
Elladan immediately dismounted. "You may take Alagos; he is swift and strong. Bregolas can carry my brother and I."
Aragorn accepted the reigns reluctantly. "You will not ride with us, then?"
Elrohir looked west, the wind carrying dark strands of his hair like waywardly graceful brushstrokes. "When we pursued these peculiar orcs, we watched them retreat to a lair. There are many more awaiting us." His eyes glittered.
"And we would not want them to surprise you unpleasantly in your sleep, Estel-brother. We know how soundly you sleep!"
They laughed, Legolas included, and embraced. Elrohir and Elladan both turned to the Steward of Gondor then, and studied him long, then saluted him as well. "Navaer, son of Gondor. May we meet again in Imladris!"
"Navaer," Boromir returned plainly. He had neither good nor bad to say of them, and they were respectable warriors. And yet he was wary of them; of all creatures, those like Elladan and Elrohir seemed most likely to take his ring, to covet the charm.
Aragorn took to Alagos's back, and paused only to watch the brothers disappear. "We must make haste," he said, when he turned back to Legolas and Boromir. "I am deeply troubled."
Beneath his cloak, Boromir clutched at the ring.
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Glossary:
Celebrían! Naneth ádarem acharn! - Celebrian (the mother of Elladan and Elrohir)! Vengeance in mother's name. (lit. Mother name vengeance.)
Glîr faron / Hunter's Song
Si hereg urui siria = Now the blood runs hot
Si path soga huith = Now the mead is mellow
Lîn ylf vrand panno = Fill your fine cup
Pân drega beng veleg. = All flee your mighty bowLiterally: Now blood hot runs (lenited sereg)/ Now smooth drinks draught (lenited suith)/ Your cup fine fill (lenited brand)/ All flee bow mighty (lenited peng, beleg)
Navaer- Farewell. For notes, see "Storm Warnings"
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Crappy as it may be, Pluto wrote and translated the Hunter's Song. Please don't steal, quote or borrow from it without asking first. If you have corrections or suggestions, of course, please let her know!
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