Fan Fiction ❯ Fate of the Fires ❯ Ranger Chase ( Chapter 4 )

Fate of the Fires

Lady Mars

Part IV: Ranger Chase

Disclaimer: See the first few chapters.

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Aragorn sat upon his horse, scanning the area. Since Arwen's attempts at peaceful communications had failed, he went for the more direct approach: assault. The only problem was finding the ranger. He had been searching for hours and had come up empty handed. Now he stood upon the once battlefield, scanning for anything that resembled the ranger. He saw nothing.

'Blast,' he thought. 'Why can't I find him?' He shielded his eyes from the sun and looked again. This time he spotted a shadowy figure mounted on a dark horse. 'A ringwraith?No, it is him this time. It can't possibly be anyone else.' Aragorn nudged the horse and it took a few steps closer to the ranger. The other horse took a few steps back. The ranger stared at him, not uttering anything. Aragorn grew angered, wondering what this man was plotting.

"Narmotul," the ranger mumbled.

'Narmotul?' Aragorn thought. His eyes widened. 'Come wolf? Oh boy…that doesn't sound too good…' Aragorn scanned the area again, but saw nothing. He then egged his horse on and the other's horse took off. As Aragorn grew closer to the other rider, he noticed another presence. He turned to look over his shoulder and almost fell off of his horse in shock. Behind him ran fifteen very large devil-wolves, all of them snarling. 'That would explain the "come wolf."' The man urged his horse on harder, the horse happily obliged. He finally came within jumping distance of the other rider. 'It's now or never.' He swallowed hard and hoped that he got to the other rider before the wolves got to him. When he thought he was in a close enough distance, Aragorn shifted his weight and threw himself at the other rider. He hit the other rider dead on. The two horses continued running, while the two men landed on the ground. Aragorn landed on top of the ranger and smiled. 'That went better than planned.'

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Elrond and Aragorn looked at their prisoner. A few of his blonde locks had fallen out of its bindings.

"This is Rogue?" Elrond asked.

"The one and only," Aragorn replied. The man was definitely elvish. His green eyes shot daggers at the pair as he spoke almost silently. What's he mumbling about?"

"No idea, I can't translate it." Aragorn stared at the elf.

"You can't?"

"No. He's speaking too fast and it's in a dead language."

"Dead?"

"Yes. It's ancient elvish. It's been dead for centuries. From what I've gathered, he's cursing every member of our past and present families." Aragorn looked at the elven prisoner.

"He's not happy then."

"I'd certainly say not." The elf had now silenced. "He stopped." The pair started to move, but stopped short. "What was that?" Elrond looked around. Creeping out of the shadows, fifteen white wolves moved towards the men, snarling. "Nice dogs." The largest stepped behind the elven ranger and snapped the ropes that bound him. The man rose and glared at the others in the room. They stood, staring each other down, until the elf whistled for his wolves. They returned to his side, very unwillingly. They headed to the door. Before they left, the elf turned and mumbled, "Fear the bearer of the fire. He means trouble for all who cross him."

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