Part Three ~ Shelob's Children

-3-

"What route do you think they would take to the north?" Frodo asked, more as an effort to dispel the awful silence around the campfire rather than any desire to know.

Aragorn looked up from his cup of mead as if he had been a thousand miles away and shook the distraction from his mind as he addressed the hobbit. "I think they would journey down the Anduin to Cair Andros."

"Yes," Faramir agreed with that assessment. "I believe that Eowyn knows the Steward of Cair Andros. They fought together at Pelennor."

"Galain is his name," Aragorn volunteered, having met the man once. "He would offer them shelter for the night and perhaps horses."

"Horses?" Frodo asked.

"Yes," Gandalf replied before Aragorn could. "They would need to travel by land to avoid Rauros Falls. I believe they would be bound for Lothlorien."

"It would be faster to reach Lindon by crossing the Misty Mountains." Pippin remarked in between chewing his food.

"That would require travelling through Fangborn Forest and Isengard over land," Legolas explained. "The route down river is safest and the one I think Eowyn would select to lessen the burden of the journey on Arwen."

"I thought that we got rid of all the Orcs," Merry frowned, disliking those creatures intensely after his encounters with them during the Fellowship and at the battles after.

"Not all of them," Gandalf rumbled. "They are like insects, they merely go to ground until they are needed by some dark malevolence to guide them. Until then, they scavenge for what they can."

"Sauron’s forces were many," Aragorn sighed, wishing he had spent more time these past two years ridding Middle Earth of that particular threat. Unfortunately, he was a king who wished only the best for his kingdom and after the war, there had been so much rebuilding to do. The Orcs and the Uruk Hai, powerless without their master, had not been that much of a priority.

"We had vanquished many during the War of the Ring but some had fled after he was vanquished. With all that we had suffered to defeat Sauron’s darkness, there were simply too little resources to spend on seeking them out and finishing them once and for all. We had to address our wounds, rebuild what was destroyed and bury our dead."

"But what is left of them seem to have grown bolder of late," Faramir pointed out, recalling the focus of their attention prior to the announcement of Arwen’s condition. "They have been emerging from their places, attacking the border lands, fleeing before the rangers can deal with them. It is as if they are preparing."

"They are readying themselves to ally with the Enemy," Gandalf replied with a low rumble, his eyes lifting from the pipe he was smoking.

"Who is this Enemy?" Frodo asked his old friend.

"I cannot say," Gandalf responded and saw the anger flare in Aragorn’s eyes over the secrecy. "It is not that I do not wish for you to know Aragorn," he quickly explained to still the King’s ire. "There is reason for my secrecy. If he knows that we are aware of him, he may not use the powers with which I can trace him back to his dark lair. As powerful as he is, he is vulnerable beyond his place of power. If Arwen and Eowyn reaches him before we, it may be the only way we have to find them. We cannot take the chance of the Enemy eluding us when it is Melkor he is attempting to resurrect."

Aragorn swallowed thickly and saw in Gandalf’s eyes that he was speaking earnestly. Gandalf had been a true friend and while the ways of wizards could be maddening at times, he also knew that Gandalf would not intentionally keep the identity of the Enemy unless there were good reason for it. He breathed in deeply, as much to calm his anger at this whole situation as it was to accept the wizard’s word.

"We have been through much together old friend," he cast his eye upon Gandalf. "I will trust your counsel in this."

"Thank you,’ Gandalf bowed his head slightly and the gesture was not merely one of thanks but gratitude at the faith Aragorn had placed in him.

"If you cannot tell us what he is, perhaps you can tell us something of his powers." Legolas asked in an effort to give Aragorn something more than just riddles.

"I can do that," Gandalf nodded deciding that he could do that much at least. "He can cloud the minds of men."

"Cloud?" Faramir asked, not liking the sound of that at all.

"Yes," the wizard blew another puff of smoke from his pipe. "He can make them believe a thing with such fierce determination that they can see nothing else but the illusion."

"That’s quite a trick," Sam exclaimed. "How can we fight something like that?"

"By not trusting our eyes," Frodo answered automatically. "What we see can be just as deceiving as what we hear."

No one questioned the Ring Bearer on this point for he knew all too well the deception the eyes could play upon a person. For so many years, a simple gold ring had been to him nothing more than an heirloom of his uncle’s. Who knew that it was a Ring of Power? From a gold band it had transformed into the instrument that could destroy Middle Earth. Following the odyssey to see the accursed thing destroyed had changed Frodo forever. It had turned an idealistic hobbit into something of a cynic who seemed to feel that the best that life had to offer him had come and gone and the days ahead would be merely obligatory.

"So we must questioned all that we see?" Gimli grumbled, not liking the sound of that. He preferred to meet his enemies face to face, to settle everything in one decisive bout of combat. This business of illusion and mental trickery reeked of cowardice.

"We should merely be alert," Gandalf advised.

"Well if the ladies are travelling to Lindon then they would come pretty close to Hobbiton," Merry spoke up for the mood around the fire was much too grim for his liking. "

"I would hope not," Faramir retorted.

"What is wrong with Hobbiton?" Pippin demanded, taking Faramir’s comment as something of a slight to the Shire.

"I meant no offence," Faramir explained himself, knowing just how unpleasant an angry hobbit could be when properly inspired. "It is just that there has been a good deal of Orc activity in the lands near Bree. I should not want either the Queen or Eowyn to encounter any."

"We’ve heard nothing in the Shire," Sam pointed out, rather disturbed that there could be Orcs so close to home.

"Well the Orcs would not dare harm the Shire," Aragorn answered. "As it is – for now, we commit some forces to their removal but if they were to enter the Shire, they are perfectly aware that it would be an army that came after them in retaliation. The home of the Ring Bearer is not to be pillaged by such foul folk as this," Aragorn glanced at Frodo and offered the hobbit a little smile. "Not while I am King."

Legolas had not spoken for some time. As Aragorn swept his gaze across the faces of his friends, he came to rest upon the Elven prince when he noticed something in Legolas’ eyes that made him speak up. "Legolas, what is the matter?"

Legolas did not hesitate to answer, "I do not know but there is something and it is close."

His words immediately inspired the others to reach for their swords and they stared at the darkness of the trees surrounding them, more aware of the shadows than ever.

"Can you tell what it is?"

"No," Legolas shook his head in frustration. He knew that there was danger coming, he just could not tell in what form. It was still not close enough for him to say for certain.

"I sense it too," Gandalf said after a time, his staff clutched firmly in his hands as he too scanned the darkness for the danger that approached.

The Fellowship had risen to their feet and all brandished their weapons in anticipation of what was coming at them. They could hear nothing so far but Legolas appeared tense and in expectation that whatever it was, it would be here soon. It was the same mood that had overtaken them during their journey through Moria, prior to the attack by the Orcs and cave trolls.

"Where are they!" Faramir hissed, revealing his impatience. "I wish they would just come!"

"They will," Aragorn said firmly. "Ready yourself for when they do."

"They are upon us!" Legolas cried out, pulling out an arrow from his collection and arming his bow in readiness.

Red eyes flashed at them as soon as those words escaped him and they were followed by a low snarl that all of them recognised immediately. The peace of the campfire was shattered by the sudden emergence of large bodies of fur moving towards them at rapid speed, led by snapping jaws and ferociously sharp teeth. They exploded out of the woods, covered in dark fur, with yellowed eyes fixing quickly upon their intended prey, their savagery evidenced by their snarls and growl, converging into a tremendous roar that soon brought everything about them to chaos.

"Wargs!" Aragorn shouted as one of the wolves launched themselves at him. He reacted without thinking, thrusting his blade through its ribs, earning a powerful howl of pain as the weapon tore through the flesh of its back.

They swarmed through the camp, their numbers so many that it was hard to count, their growling draining the world of all other sound. Aragorn saw one about to attack Frodo and moved to intervene but he was soon beset by a duo of the heinous creatures who charged him. Thinking quickly, he dropped to his knees and grabbed a log from the fire and waved it about to give them pause. As they hissed in black fury for being held back by his flame, Aragorn saw that the former Ring Bearer was more than adept at fighting the foul creatures than he had given him credit. With the blade called Sting, Aragorn saw Frodo hack away at the beast attempting to harm him and drive it back. In its attempt to evade the blade, the Warg stepped into the fire and uttered a roar of pain before fleeing to douse its wound. Beside Frodo was Sam, fighting with just as much determination to protect himself as well as his master, between the two of them, the hobbits were putting up a strong defense.

Aragorn saw a flurry of moment in the corner of his eye and turned just as a Warg jumped upon him. Aragorn had no room to move and it felled him heavily on the ground. Sliding his blade between him and the creature’s snapping jaws, he could fell its fetid breath as its claws scratched at his skin and its teeth trying to take a bite out of him. The two that had been held at bay were not given leave to advance since the flame that Aragorn had used against them had fallen to the ground. Suddenly, an arrow flew threw the air and struck one of the wolves in the neck. The force of it escaped the beast’s side and it dropped in its tracks.

"Help Aragorn!" Aragorn heard Legolas scream before turning his attention to the Warg about to attack. Legolas swiftly retrieved another arrow from his pack and let it fly, it too made its mark for Legolas seldom missed and the creature was close.

The second beast was almost upon him when Aragorn threw the Warg that he was wrestling over his head, slamming it into the other’s abdomen and sending them both tumbling. He rolled onto his knees and pulled the dagger concealed within his boot, flinging it with a marksman’s aim at one. It struck the raging wolf in its breast and the Warg screamed in pain before collapsing on the dirt, its black blood oozing across the ground. Now that the one was dead, Aragorn rushed forward to deal with the first. The Warg glared at him with sinister eyes, its teeth dripping with saliva as it circled him, waiting to pounce. Aragorn remembered how fierce these creatures had been during the battle of Pelennor when the Orcs had used them like horses.

The Warg ran forward and leapt into the air, Aragorn watched its movements before swinging Anduril in a wide arc. The blade forged from the shard of Narsil, the sword of Elendill which was used to cut the One Ring from Sauron’s hand sliced through the less formidable flesh of the Warg, tearing open its insides in one final and gruesome blow. The wolf had barely enough time to utter a cry of pain before it dropped in mid air, its body making a heavy thud upon hitting the earth. Aragorn turned around to see the progress of his friends and saw that Pippin had somehow managed to mount one of the Wargs as if he were riding a pony. The small hobbit remained steadfastly attached upon the wolf’s back, his hand clutching the beast’s pelt as he steadied his blade for attack. With one powerful movement, more than Aragorn would have thought capable by a halfling, Pippin drove the blade into the creature’s neck and halted its struggles in one blood-curdling howl of agony.

Faramir was battling just as vigorously, showing that he was like his brother in skill and honor. Around him, the Wargs gathered in their death, so many of them that it appeared that there was a sea of fur growing on the ground instead of grass. Gandalf had also produced his sword and was making short work of the creatures that were foolish enough to attack him. Although the wizard had great powers that could probably make short work of all these foul beasts, Aragorn knew that it was Gandalf’s desire to not rely so much on his abilities and to use his more conventional skills. A wizard's powers were not to be used lightly and if he was able to manage his own defense without it, Gandalf would certainly attempt it.

Merry and Gimli fought side by side, proving that their lesser size did not mean they could not make the Wargs regret this attack as the others had. With his mighty axe, Gimli swept aside the beasts as if they were petulant children and the thunderous blows ensured none of the foul creatures would be able to rise. They lay in heaps across the campsite, their bones broken from the onslaught of the dwarf’s axe. Merry’s skill, taught to him by Boromir, allowed him to contribute just as significantly as they cut down the Wargs that would have no doubt killed them all.

When it was all said and done, the campsite appeared like an uncovered mass grave of Wargs. Their black blood ran through the dirt and would soon attract the attention of carrion feeders who would feast upon their lifeless bodies. Aragorn immediately ordered their departure, wishing to be away in case any other foul creature chose to make its appearance. They returned to the shore where their boats were waiting, deciding it would be safer if they made camp near a speedy means of escape. For the most part, they had come away from the melee with little injuries. Faramir had suffered a bite but it had been made through the braces on his arm and despite the skin being broken, it was not a serious wound. The hobbits and Gimli had acquired some minor scratches, all of which Aragorn was able to tend to with his skills as a healer.

"We rid ourselves of all the Wargs," Aragorn stated as they gathered around the fire, albeit, a little more sedately than before the attack attempting to get some rest for the traveling in the morrow. "I know we did."

"I thought so too," Legolas shook his head. "At Pelennor, I was certain we saw the end of them." The archer was cleaning the arrows he had managed to retrieve from the dead creatures, appearing none to happy about the grisly task.

"There seems to be a greater frequency of dark things emerging in recent months," Aragorn replied. "First the appearance of rogue Uruk Hai and Orc tribes, now we have Wargs whom we were certain were done with Middle Earth."

"Its like they’re all emerging out of the darkness," Faramir remarked, attempting to see under the swathing of bandage around his arm and frowning when Merry smacked his hand for making the attempt.

"They’re hearing the call of their Master," Frodo mused softly. "Whatever this evil that Arwen is facing, it’s drawing them to him, just like Sauron."

All eyes turn to him and the fact soured in their stomachs. They had seen such activity in Mordor prior to the Quest of the One Ring. Orcs began to grow in numbers, goblins and trolls had emerged in new ferocity to attack races, they would never have dared before. The destruction of the One Ring had chased them into the shadows but now it appeared as if some new malignancy was bringing them into the world of Middle Earth again.

"Mordor is silent," Aragorn said firmly. "Since Sauron’s defeat, we have maintained close control of it."

"There are evils far older than Sauron, Aragorn," Gandalf replied. "The threat of Melkor upon your child’s existence should make you aware of that."

Aragorn stiffened, not liking to be reminded of that. It was hard enough trying to remain focussed on finding Arwen safely, to think nothing of the child inside her belly whose fate hung balanced upon the success of its mother’s ability to save its soul. "I know that all too well Gandalf," he said softly.

"I did not mean to worry you any more than you already are, Aragorn," Gandalf replied gently, seeing the pain in his eyes. "I just want to say that what we face is formidable and we must be on guard."

"We are on our guard," Pippin retorted. "We fought those things off."

"Yes, you did," Gandalf nodded. "But did you not find it odd that they came after us specifically?"

Aragorn’s gaze snapped towards the wizard. "What do you mean?"

Gandalf drew a deep breath and released it by way of his curved pipe. "The Enemy knows what we are up to. He knows that we are coming and is attempting to stop us any way he can. The Wargs are only the beginning, there will be more soon enough."