Creature Comforts

Chapter 12

Rohan is just as I imagine it to be.
Compared to the beauty of the elven cities, Rohan is but a nothingness pit of
filth, depravity, slavery and drink. Most of the warriors are out protecting
the boarders of the city from the daily waves of orcs, which attack from their
camps around the tower of Isengard. I was reluctant to even enter the city
after seeing it’s ruin and disgrace but I have considered it the lesser evil of
the situation to be under royal protection at the palace rather than roaming
the street among unsavoury commoners, especially with Legolas. There have been
few elves among the lands of men since the Last Alliance, and Legolas’ mere
presence is drawing some attention.

 

We arrived late in the afternoon to the
city having almost lost Gimli in a surprise attack of more than fifty odd orcs.
Luckily we are mostly unharmed but Gimli has a broken arm, which has been set
by the healers of the city. We are in the company of Faramir and his court much
to Legolas’ disgruntled temperament. The elf seems edgy and unsettled among the
men and I can hardly blame him with the scene that is the evening meal. We sit
to the right of Faramir the three of us surrounded by men all greedily
devouring their feast, with less manners than orcs as they talk loudly of war,
women and politics. Legolas has hardly touched his meal and I confess that the
sight of those around me shovelling food like pigs, has quite turned off my
appetite as well. Gimli seems unaffected by the raucous of the meal although
his fatigue of injury goes some way in sheltering him from the scene
surrounding him. As predicted Faramir has not taken Boromir’s passing well. He
has sent for his father and has sent more warriors to their boarders to revenge
his brothers’ death. He is much like Boromir, head strong and full of hatred
for the foul beings that slay his men.

 

Faramir sits at the head of the table now
his councillors and centurions telling him of the battles that wage continually
just outside the city walls. For the sake of not upsetting people I have kept
my heritage to myself. I remember to well Boromir’s reaction to my true
identity and I dare not risk the same reaction from half a court of
well-battled men. Faramir seems to take
little interest in the general conversations and I find myself watching him
intently as he shares his glances between his councillors and Legolas. It is
quite unsettling the way he stares at the elf. I have not mentioned it to
Legolas but I have seen many adorning eyes watching him from every faction ihe phe palace. It has been a long time since elves have roamed freely among the
men of Rohan especially those elves of the wood. Legolas’ fair hair is
attracting more attention to him than I think can be passed off as mere
curiosity.

 

“You have not spoken comrades, has your
travels tired you tongues as well as your bodies. Have you know tales to tell
of your own adventures?” The hall falls into silence as Faramir casually lifts
his wine goblet to his lips and raises a curious eyebrow in our direction. I
finish my forced mouthful of meat and glance easily to where Gimli and Legolas
are sitting at my side. Legolas remains silently staring at the plate of gravy
meat in front of him while Gimli I find has fallen asleep, leaving me to
address the waiting court. I clear my throat with a swill of wine before
smiling with all honesty at the steward.

 

“We have come a long way and have seen
many things, not all of those things so light hearted as to converse about over
a meal. Our tongues may recover after a well earned rest.” As if on cue a loud
snort comes from the dwarf as his head falls backwards and he begins to snore.
There is a moment of silence before Faramir laughs heartily at Gimli causing
his court to do the same before silence befalls it again.

 

“Very well you have my leave, with the
promise of news that you bring of the outside beyond the walls of the city in
this time of peril for Middle Earth.” I bow my head in gratitude to the steward
and I hear to my left as Legolas breaths out a small sigh of relief. “Aradian
take our guests to their rooms.” A scruffy young servant appears at the side of
Faramir’s chair and bows low in understanding before scurrying past us towards
the exit of the hall. Between us Legolas and I haul Gimli to his feet and walk
him unsteadily after the servant. All eyes are focused on us as we leave the
not so subtle muttering amongst the diners, testament to the amusement we seem
to have created with our presence.

 

Legolas seems to relax a little more as we
are led through the lavishly furnished hallways of Rohan’s royal palace. We
drop Gimli onto the bed in the first room before taking the next two for
ourselves. I am reluctant to leave Legolas alone for tonight but he insists
that he is quite capable of looking after himself and I know better than to
argue with an already unsettled wood elf. The night air is warm and I open the
balcony doors to my room to allow the cooler breeze to waft through my sleeping
arrangements. A warm iron bath of water has been left for me behind the screen
in the far corner and I strip eagerly, my skin crying out for cleanliness. I
relax into the soaking effects of the warm jasmine scented water and close my
eyes. Images of Legolas’ fragility back when the fellowship broke plague my
thoughts. I have still yet to discover what truly broke his spirit back then
but I am more than sure it has something to do with his guilt. I sigh and shift
in the water opening my ears to the sounds outside below my balcony if not my
eyes. Below I can hear voices singing crudely and with an unmistakeable slur of
alcohol. It is foul what has befallen the once proud city. Maybe if I had taken
my heritage as Elrond had once swallowed his own, then maybe it could have been
different. As it stands the people of Middle Earth are divided and leaderless
fighting for something that is only a fragmented myth.

 

“Aragorn? Aragorn?” A faint whisper
interrupts my complex thoughts. It is only when I open my eyes and remember my
surroundings that I become highly concerned with who is whispering my real name
in the halls of the royal palace. Springing from my bath I run light footed to
my discarded sword lying at the foot of my bed with my dirty clothes. With a
stealth brought from years of being a ranger I unsheathe my sword with little
care for my stat und undress and stand poised for attack as my eyes scan the
gloom of the lightless room. The voice is familiar yet is neither Gimli or
Legolas. I continue to scan the room and it’s shadows searching for the source
of my whispered name. There is a moments silence and I wait for my name to be
uttered again so I can focus more on the direction it is coming from however
before it can come again the door to my bedroom is swung open and a figure
dashes in. I swing my sword towards the intruder only just managing to stop it
at their throat as I recognise the long tresses of blonde silken hair.

 

“Legolas!” I growl my response at the
elf’s presumption to enter my chambers without knocking but when he remains
silent apart from his shallow breathing I instantly recognise fear in his
emotions and all anger is instantly dissolved as I lower my sword from his
neck. “What is wrong?” In my concerned intent to question the elf I have
forgotten my naked state only realising when I watch the elf’s attention drop
from my face to my lower regions in utter shock. “I was having a bath.” I
mutter somewhat self-consciously to myself as I turn hastily and move over to
my bed where my robe lies. I can feel Legolas’ eyes watching me as I hastily
cover myself with the robe before turning back to him. If the situation seemed
less worrisome I might have revelled in Legolas’ gaze for longer. It seems so
long since we left Rivendell the memories of my eyes first meeting the young
prince’s firmly etched into my mind.
“Now tell me what is wrong?” I move over to a small table near the
window and easily light the few candles that sit upon it, bathing the room in
an unearthly glow.

 

“Tell me you hear them, for if not I have
lost my sanity in this god forsaken place.” The hysteria that twinges Legolas’
usually even tone makes me turn back to him and stare. I have not heard the
worry in his voice since Frodo and Sam departed from us and Boromir fell. In
the low light I take in his appearance. Clad in a flowing white night shirt he
looks almost an innocent maiden on her first night before her husband. The
muscular frame beneath the robe is evident of no innocents and his firm set
features determined in their hold. His feet are bare and his long hair is undone
from its braids to create the rippling golden river that flows down his back
and over his shoulders. He is truly a beautiful sight to behold, even in his
present state of unrest and worry. I shake my head at him in confusion and
watch as he closes his eyes and sighs quite uncharacteristically. “My mind has
left me then for I was sure I heard Merry and Pippin calling my name from
within my room. I had but the slightest hope that you had heard them too.”
Before he can continue I but in quickly, the voice I heard earlier finally
being matched to a face.

 

“Yes I did. It was Pippin and he was
calling my name, I had thought it was you but it seems that it was not.”
Instantly Legolas flicks his head up from his chest and smiles indulgently. I
can’t help but internally melt under his smile it’s rare appearance upon his
face well worth the earning even if it is seldom expressed.

 

“Well if this is true they are near then.
No more than a mile or so out beyond the city walls. We must go now if there is
to be any hope of finding them.” It never seems to amaze me the elven ability
to hear the most unlikely things. On account of Legolas he is from a family of
first born so his ability is strong and on my own account I can onlt itt it
down to many years under Glorfindel and Elrond’s teaching. I nod my acceptance
and move to hastily pull on my leggings and tunic. Legolas goes to get Gimli up
from his slumber while I grab my weapons. If it is that Merry and Pippin are
within sight of Rohan than it is likely they are not unaccompanied and we must
be prepared for the worst. Orcs are sick creatures, often parading their
trophies in front of their kin before slaughtering them to the horror of
onlookers. Our promise to Boromir will not falter; Merry and Pippin will not
suffer as he did. I run out of my room and down to the stables where I shall
ready the horses and meet my two companions. There is not time to alert Faramir
or gain some warriors as protection; we must defeat this foe alone.

TBC……………………..