Ringspell

Chapter 27.
The Gathering...

It was some time later when Aragorn and Legolas finally made it to the surface, detouring along the way, to collect the Ranger's weapons from the floor below. There had been something of an awkward moment when they were forced to inform their companions of their departure and though Aragorn had been genuinely saddened to leave the Fellowship behind, he was also secretly glad to have the elf more or less to himself for a couple of days. Legolas seemed a different person, in the company of the Fellowship; a consequence of pride, Aragorn thought, coupled with the natural tendency of elves to fall quiet in the presence of outsiders.

The two emerged on the top level of Thranduil's halls, the wolf Sadron trotting placidly at their heels as they made their way down the corridor and into the great ante-chamber, where hundreds upon hundreds of elven soldiers were gathered, preparing for the impending journey. The atmosphere of the great hall was not as it was when Aragorn and his companions had arrived just two days prior; without the sun to set the giant central fountain to sparkling across the walls the chamber seemed ominously dark and uninviting. The people had changed too, a fact impossible to ignore. There was no calm, quiet reserve in these people now; the pulse of the wood-elves had quickened, as the promise of battle drew close and Aragorn found the mounting tension to be highly contagious.

The hall was alive with the sounds of voices, of scraping metal and creaking leather as the Hunters inspected their weapons and armor. Elves came and went, rushing here and there; most looked like ordinary citizens, dressed in green and wearing light leather armor. This seemed fundamentally wrong to Aragorn, who was a strong believer in professional soldiery. What also seemed wrong to Aragorn, was the percentage of females amongst the Hunters. While he had nothing but respect for the fairer sex, women in the army was something he had simply never seen before and it did not sit well with him.

On inspection, he was forced to admit, however, that for an army composed of people who lived a more or less nomadic existence, they were very well armed and looked quite capable of taking care of themselves.

Scattered amongst the citizenry, Aragorn also noticed a strong contingent of Thranduil's royal guards, instantly recognizable by their rich, dark red cloaks. These strode purposefully about the hall, barking commands at their comrades and bringing the mass of people into order; a task for which, Aragorn suspected, the force had been created.

Aragorn and Legolas made their way swiftly across the blood-red floor, towards the door to the outside world and it occurred to Aragorn that he had not seen the sun for quite some time. Profoundly happy to be going outside, the Ranger struggled to control his disappointment when, carried along by a slowly flowing tide of elves, he passed out of the mountain, and into the pouring rain.

In the open space outside the entrance to the halls, literally thousands of Hunters were waiting, alongside thousands of horses to depart. Aragorn sighed, miserably. He had never seen rain such as this. With no canopy to soften the downpour, the air was thick with water that pelted the top of Aragorn's head like little stones. Though the air was lit with an eery glow, the source of which was unnervingly mysterious, it was impossible to see clearly for more than a few feet through the sheeting rain. Squinting his eyes against the onslaught, he glanced up at the leaden sky. It hung low, and heavy, as if threatening to crush the Hunters under it's weight. There was no way to tell the time.

Aragorn sincerely wished he had stayed in bed.

"Aragorn!"

He glanced in the direction of the sound. Amongst the mass of people and horses, he spotted Legolas standing by a large, gray mount, motioning for Aragorn to join him. He made his way across the outgoing tide of Hunters, instantly understanding why the elves had paved the path leading up their mountain, though he wished they had taken more care to maintain the road, as he simultaneously slipped through mud and stumbled over uplifted stones. His mood soured considerably, in the full minute it took him to travel twenty feet.

"You may ride Arbellason, if you wish." Legolas told him, handing him the reins of the fully tacked horse. "He is strong and fast." The prince said, fondly stroking the animals neck. "My father's horse, Belsulion is his sire." He added, as though Aragorn should care.

The Ranger nodded, though he was not really paying much attention to the prince's words; he was transfixed by the elf's appearance. He had watched Legolas dress that morning, but somehow the effect of the elf's clothes was entirely different when wet. He wore no armor, but for his bracers, and a thin mithril shirt which had astounded Aragorn simply for the fact that Legolas owned one. Over it he had pulled on a simple, pale silk shirt and a heavy, dark green robe which Aragorn had immediately informed him would be totally unsuitable for battle, particularly if the elf ever had to get off his horse. Legolas had waved his practicality aside without concern, reminding the Ranger that he had done this sort of thing before and stating quite firmly that he would wear whatever he wished. The robe came equipped with a hood, which Legolas had neglected to raise.

The result was undeniably alluring. The rain soaked the elf's hair, poured down his face, catching in his eyelashes and dripping delicately onto his cheeks. His clothes were also soaked through, as were Aragorn's, after only a minute or two out in the open. Unlike Aragorn though, the elf seemed overjoyed to be soaking wet, happily declaring out of nowhere that there was nothing quite like the feel of nature on one's face. Aragorn grimaced. It was going to be a long day.

Just then Kehlios appeared out of the misty night, to speak into the prince's ear. The Hunter's voice was drowned, along with any other sound, amongst the roar of steadily falling rain and when Legolas nodded and the Hunter moved on, Aragorn had no idea what had been said.

"Well," Legolas said, in a business-like fashion. "We should be heading off, I guess." With that the prince made to walk away from him, perhaps to find his own horse. But Aragorn did not let him go, reaching out and taking the elf's arm, as he passed. He had meant nothing by the act, in retrospect Aragorn decided it had been more an instinctive desire to keep the elf's company than anything else but it seemed to make Legolas very uncomfortable.

"What?" He demanded, in response to the Ranger's action.

A little stunned, Aragorn merely shrugged.

"Nothing, really." He said, truthfully. Then he smiled, deciding it would be terribly remiss if he wasted the opportunity to speak. "I just love you." He declared, quite smoothly he thought.

To his despair, Legolas did not return the sentiment, instead throwing him a look of intense exasperation. The elf pulled his arm free, stepping back from the Ranger, looking nervously about him.

"Do not say such things, Aragorn." The prince ordered, quietly, avoiding the Ranger's eyes. Then he left, Sadron trotting at his heels, Aragorn too shocked to stop him a second time. Feeling more than a little rejected the Ranger turned to Arbellason.

"Well, you heard him." He told the animal, pulling the reins up over the horse's head, slipping his foot in the metal stirrup and swinging himself up onto the stallion's back. "We should be heading off."

*************
Arbellason - Noble Strength
Belsulion - Strong Wind