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by Michelle
EMAIL: michelle [at] waking-vision.com �Wolves may lurk in every guise .� (�The Company of Wolves�) ~ * ~ It was a new feeling for me, being the outsider. Two weeks out in the wild with the fellowship and the feeling of not belonging had not lessened. My title, which crowds in Minas Tirith would shout in joy after a victory, seemed to mean nothing here. Gimli the dwarf followed Gandalf�s lead and proved to be a resourceful warrior, even if all his huffs and grumblings made him anything but likeable company. The hobbits were crowding together, spending the nights sharing warmth, cuddling together so closely it was impossible to tell where one hobbit ended and the other began. They went to Gandalf for guidance and to Aragorn for courage. Aragorn was another oddity for I could neither hate nor like him. He was an ursurper of my father�s rule and I should despise him for that alone. However, he was a skilled warrior and able leader and I had been taught to admire that in a man. His strange ways, though... he was distant, unapproachable. His lips set in a tight line, he mostly seemed far away in his thoughts, speaking only the barest necessities. But each evening after Sam dished out dinner, he would retreat quietly to the edge of our camp with the elf Legolas to quietly converse in that elvish language of theirs. Who knew what magic they were conjuring up? That elf. He was a mystery. If Aragorn was tight-lipped, the elf was downright mute. He would scout ahead, always alert and his magnificient bow in a sure grip. But he rarely spoke and never to me. His heated defence of Aragorn�s lineage at the Council of Elrond had been the only time when he addressed me. We had started out on the wrong foot, it seemed, and that made me wonder all the more whether or not Faramir would have been better suited to be a member of this motley group. He had always looked beyond the borders of Gondor, wondered what was on the other side of the Misty Mountains. Faramir undoubtedly would have been fascinated by this chance to travel with hobbits and elves and wizards. I, on the other hand, was mostly irritated by it. I was out of my depth, treading new ground, and it made me uncomfortable. Presently, the elf was sitting away from the fire we had dared start for the night. The hobbits were merrily chatting away, a pitter-patter of sound between Gandalf�s booming laughter and Gimli�s grunts. But Legolas took no heed, sitting apart from them and staring out into the woods. Aragorn had gone to check the perimeter. The first watch of the night was his, and I had gotten used to the fact that he tended to disappear for hours at a time. I would not have addressed Legolas, respecting the invisible line he seemed to have drawn between us, had I not spotted the gleaming eyes of a wolf just behind the tree line. They caught the light of the fire for only a moment and then disappeared back into impenetrable darkness. A lone wolf, circling our camp this closely, was dangerous. It might be an ordinary animal and only tear us to pieces. Or it might be a spy of the enemy. Both outcomes were not at all desirable. If I had learned one thing about the elf in our company, it was the fact that nothing escaped his eyes and ears. There was no way Legolas could not have noticed the wolf, yet he made no move. The bow was resting in his hands securely, the elf as still as a statue. If the stoic elf would not take matters into his hands, I would. I walked up to him, trying to talk quietly as to not alarm the hobbits. �Master elf, did you not notice the wolf walking between the trees over there? We should head out and shoot him down. I am certain your bow will be glad for the exercise.� The elf just looked at me askance and then adopted a serene calmness. �I saw the wolf just as you did, Boromir. But do not concern yourself with his presence. He will do us no harm.� I was outraged. A wolf not out for blood? It was unheard of, especially in these dark times. �How do you know that?� I asked in return, eager to kill the animal. �Can elves now read the minds of wild beasts?� Legolas just smiled at me and cocked his head, as if he was talking to a child. �I can. Trust me.� I was intrigued and disturbed in equal measure. Had I just accompanied Faramir to Minas Tirith�s library at least once or twice, maybe I would know whether Legolas spoke the truth or was just having a joke at my expense. Could he really tell the wolf would not harm us? Was his elf magic keeping us safe? Whatever the elf had meant, it made little difference to me: I was certain I would not be able to close my eyes tonight with a wolf lurking just behind the treeline. Legolas was about to say more, maybe reassure me, since I was sure my face gave away my doubt, but just then the sounds of a fight came to us. There was a yelp, followed by a howl. I could hear snarling and the clashing of teeth. Wolf teeth. Aragorn must have crossed paths with the lone hunter. He was far too elvish for my taste, but at least he had the decency to put that wolf to death where Legolas refused to act. I could not bask any longer in the joy that I would sleep well this night after all, because at the first sound of skirmish, the elf at my side sprang to his feet and rushed off into the woods. Running off to help Aragorn, I assumed. And that was what I was supposed to do as well, I realized belatedly, while I still stood at the edge of our camp until my brain caught up with my eyes and ears. I followed the other as best I could, but a sure-footed elf is hard to track in the dead of night. The yelping and snarling were a better guide, though. The sounds stopped abruptly and were replaced by the eerie silence of a disturbed forest. Only a few paces later I caught up with the elf. The sight burnt itself into my mind. Legolas was on his knees, leaning over a prone figure. It was Aragorn � and he was naked, my shocked brain registered in disbelief. The man was half on his side, out cold. There was an arrow in his right thigh, deeply embedded, and blood was slowly trickling onto the forest floor. I was drawn to the scene, my eyes glued to the elf�s feathery touches on the man�s skin, trying to revive him. And he was talking in that singsong language again, probably bewitching him. Only then I noticed the large scar on Aragorn�s left shoulder. It looked like a beast had taken a good bite out of him. It was an old wound, but still it made me shudder. The pearly row of scar tissue indicated a set of teeth. And a big set at that. It was a frightening sight. We all hid battle scars beneath our clothing, but this was neither caused by sword nor arrow. It was raw and untamed and I hoped Aragorn had killed the beast that had marked him thus. The man�s dark hair seemed longer the way it obscured his features. And when Legolas lightly touched Aragorn�s shoulder I could have sworn I heard a growl, only a tiny sound. But it could not have come from the man, could it? That was the moment Legolas noticed my presence. In a fluid movement nearly too quick for my eyes to follow, he took off his cloak and covered Aragorn�s naked form with it. Then he turned his head, still kneeling and said, �Please Boromir, go back to camp. We will follow you shortly.� Suddenly, I felt like an outsider again, intruding upon an intimate moment. Offering my help was out of the question. There was nothing else I could do, so I complied. Only, when I turned my back on Legolas, I noticed there was no wolf�s cadaver anywhere near. But next to Aragorn was a dead orc, his throat ripped open, his blood splattered far and wide. Legolas made true on his promise. He entered our camp only a few minutes later, Aragorn�s limp form securely in his arms, the cloak hiding his nakedness. The hobbits tripped over each others� feet trying to reach the pair, panic written all over their features, but Gandalf was quick to hold them back and Aragorn and Legolas were left in peace. I observed them, discreetly I hoped, and saw Legolas draw out the arrow and bind the wound on Aragorn�s leg. It was a crude weapon, something that would belong to an orc, and the corpse in the forest came to mind. But what of the howls and snarls? The elf was tending to the man with steady hands, but I saw his touch linger here and there and wondered at that. Suddenly, I wasn�t certain anymore as to the nature of their relationship. I had believed it was Aragorn�s trust in Legolas� uncanny ability to sense danger that made him seek the elf�s company every evening. I had believed they talked about our path, of the obstacles we might have to overcome, of the dangers we faced. Now, though, observing the way Legolas nursed the man�s unconscious body, I was not so sure anymore. When the night was nearly over and everyone had given in to sleep, only I and Legolas were still awake. The elf was holding vigil at his friend�s side, who had only woken once and had settled down with a smile when he had seen Legolas beside him. Sleep eluded me tonight, and I knew it would for as long as this mystery stayed unsolved. Maybe I should walk over to the pair, try to talk with Legolas and keep him company. Just then the elf looked up as if he had read my mind. He nodded once, inviting me to join him. Legolas was sitting on Aragorn�s right side, so I decided to take the left. We were keeping the man between us, keeping him safe. My hand shot out and Legolas did not stop me. It reached the hem of Aragorn�s shirt and tucked the material away to reveal the scar I had seen before. �An impressive wound,� I commented, for lack of anything else to say. �I wonder how he came by it.� �It was a wolf�s bite, as you well suspected.� Legolas smiled his serene smile, and I could not decide whether I should throttle or admire him for his sharp mind. �That orc will not give away our position to the enemy,� Legolas said, seemingly out of the blue. �Aragorn made sure of that,� I replied, before realisation set in. Aragorn had been naked when we came upon him, he had had no weapons with him. And the orc had been ripped apart. By a wild beast. �Where is the wolf we heard and saw?� I asked, suspicion creeping into my voice. Legolas did not look up this time, only brushed a few stray locks out of Aragorn�s face with a gentle touch that made my heart ache. �Where he belongs,� he answered. And when he realized this only confused me more, he added, �right beside me.� I had been wrong before. Legolas was not a mystery. But he was the solution to one. And my eyes fastened on Aragorn�s sleeping body again. - The End (October, 2006)
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