Veiled Stars » LotR [1] ✔️

Chapter Sixteen: Ambush

Elle raced at the back of the group, her sword drawn and her nerves itching for a fight.

Rocks crumbled beneath her feet as she followed Boromir up the steep mountain slope. By her sides, the three hobbits struggled to keep the pace, scrambling up the loose stone as fast as they possibly could.

They had left almost immediately upon Legolas's warning. A sign of true danger was yet to come but Aragorn hadn't hesitated after hearing the alarm in Legolas's voice.

Elle knew he trusted the elf more than anyone else, and Legolas had better instincts than all of them combined. She had no doubts that he was correct about their unwanted followers and her heart pounded at the question of who could possibly be chasing them down.

Her cloak billowed out behind her in the raging wind. A storm was indeed coming, already flurries of wet sleet fell from the sky, turning Elle's nose numb and melting painfully cold upon her cheeks and cracked lips.

Every few seconds Legolas would pause, turning his gaze back to the horizon at their backs. His blue eyes would snap back and forth and then he would take charge yet again, changing directions as to confuse their pursuers.

Elle vaguely understood that they were still heading west, although they traveled further and further into the mountains than Gandalf had first intended.

They had long since wandered off Frodo's path and Aragorn had insisted they didn't stray too far, as his footprints would be harder to find again with the new snow.

Atop the steep mountainside, Legolas paused, searching the ground they had covered at their backs. His blue eyes narrowed and he searched again, then his forehead creased and he blinked.

"I..." His trailed off. "I don't understand."

Gimli raised a thick brow, hoisting his axe with a grumble. "If the elves only admitted that more often, this world would be a much better place."

"What is it, mellon?" Aragorn questioned, stepping beside the elf.

Legolas looked confused. "They have given up. I cannot see their trail any longer."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Boromir spoke up, stepping forward. He clutched Merry and Pippin under his cloak, icicles growing down his untrimmed beard. If he was cold, he didn't show it, throwing away his warmth to protect the hobbits. "Perhaps the storm finally scared them off."

Legolas didn't answer and Aragorn looked to be pondering, his frost-covered eyebrows drawing together. As Elle caught his eye, she forced a smile.

Perhaps they really have given up. After all, how often was Legolas wrong?

Aragorn bit his lips, then looked over at Gandalf. "What do you think, Gandalf?"

The old wizard was hunched in his grey-blue robes. His blue eyes looked solemn and he looked at Legolas, then furrowed his brow. "We have to find shelter. We won't be able to stop Frodo we don't even make it through the night."

"Very well," Aragorn nodded. "We'll make for the cover of the trees."

The elf still looked slightly unnerved but he nodded silently back.

Elle's heart sunk a little at the very thought of trekking back down the mountainside. She knew Aragorn was right, there was no shelter on the barren mountains unless they made it to the cliffsides, which held its own dangers and time.

They started back down and time blurred as Elle lost all feeling in her face, hands, and feet. Her cloak froze stiff and she could no longer stop her uncontrollable shivering.