Kapitel 67: A ghost chase
"Frances. Do not look at your feet," whispered Legolas.
Of course, she had to do the exact contrary, and a surprised gasp escaped her lips as she slid her hand off the horse.
"Oh!" she said, her face expressionless. "That's an insane amount of people."
Puzzled, the elf frowned; mere moments ago the young lady was ready to collapse in fear. Yet, the wave of relief flooding her was definitely inconsistent with the new skull carpet they were treading upon. How could he know that the claustrophobia was lifted now that the walls of the tunnel were farther away, and that the bones were just making her curious?
As the company eventually reached a vault, most of them instinctively gathered on the now clear ground to observe the place. A heavy sensation lurked inside the endless cave. No ceiling could be seen, and while hard rock closed the left hand, an unclear area of darkness seemed to terminate the other side of the vault. Aragorn was watching a lone figure, slumped against a stone door on the far end.
Behind them, Frances felt the weight of the dead. It filled her with dread, but she could live with it. Even if goosebumps marred her flesh, and her body shuddered here and there from their disturbing presence, she'd rather fight them than go back into the narrow passageways. Granting a quick look at Legolas, she found him stone-faced. He was unafraid, contrary to Gimli that seemed ready to wet his breeches. His features betrayed no emotion. Cold and aloof. The prince of Greenwood was back to his old self, the elf she had known on the road before he started opening up to the fellowship, … opening to her.
Aragorn's deep voice resonated in the cavern, calling her attention away from her companions.
"Keep your hoards and your secrets hidden in the Accursed Years! Speed only we ask. Let us pass, and then come! I summon you to the stone of Erech!"
His proposal was met with silence. Then a great gust of wind came, and blew the torches.
"Merde !"ushered Frances' voice. "Now we're really in deep shit."
"Come," answered Aragorn. Let us be out"
"Tu l'as dis bouffi" snickered the young lady.
Another stupid expression from her elder brother, but at the moment, she badly needed the joke to keep from panicking. A hand took hold of her elbow and lead her away. The man was tall, and moved flawlessly. With the faint glow and long hair, she recognised one of the twins. For hours, they went on, progressing in the darkness until Frances felt like curling on the ground and screaming to the heavens. Her leg ached, throbbing painfully from the bad treatment. Very soon, her limp had become much more pronounced. The hand on her elbow came to support her arm instead.
"I'm sorry sweet lady, the walls are not wide enough so that I can carry you."
Elrohir then, he was the only one calling her thus. They kept going, the pace killing her, until the cavern stretched again. She didn't know how she could detect it given the absence of light, but the walls felt less tight. Eventually, the elf scooped her into his arms. A familiar scent graced her nose, and Frances sighed in relief.
"There, I have you. You can rest now."
Frances rested her head on the elf's chest. A very hard chest. So much that her skull was sometimes bouncing off his muscles. With the life they led, no wonder the twins had no fat layering their frame.
"Thank you, Elrohir. But as soon as the light come back, you set me on the ground. I don't want Halbarad to go all 'damsel in distress' on me, right?"
The elf didn't even blink at her strange expression.
"I understand."
"Hey. You are a great friend," came the young lady's muffled voice.
Elrohir's lips quirked upright in the dark.
"I know."
A few steps behind them, a lone elf smiled at Elrohir's deadpan reply. Now that the twins had joined them, they would look after Frances. She didn't need him anymore to watch her back. A curious pang of sadness hit him, but Legolas pushed it away. It was all for the best… then why did he feel like he should be the one holding her ?
Eventually, the gloom left way to a little light. Frances nearly wept. For sure, if she'd been touching the ground, she would have sunk to her knees in silent prayer.
Light !
Elrohir settled the young woman on her feet with a worried look, and awaited for her nod to push forward. Then, they were out in the open. The company lost no time, jumping atop their horses and hurtling down the dull valley. Now, Frances held onto Elrohir like her life depended on it. Legolas could feel Gimli's dread as well. He, similarly to the twins, did not fear the dead. But the second born were terrified of them. Legolas turned slightly, sending Gimli a reassuring smile before staring uphill.
"The Dead are following," he said. "I see shapes of Men and of horses, and pale banners like shreds of cloud, and spears. The Dead are following."
"Yes. The Dead ride behind. They have been summoned," answered Elladan.
And his voice was nearly cheerful. It was good news indeed. Aragorn had managed to muster the great force than only the heir of Isildur could summon. With this army, they might very well turn the tide of the war.
Gimli snorted behind him, irony laced in his voice.
"How very thoughtful of them."
Frances turned around, sending him a quizzical look. The dread that she felt, having the dead following them, was definitely uncomfortable. She hated having a threat on her back; better to face it head on. She blessed the proximity of Elrohir who gave her a measure of serenity. But it was the light of Legolas upon which her attention was fixed. And if he saw it, the elf didn't comment, for he passed her horse with only a nod, leaving them with Elladan. Still, Frances focused on his brightness; it kept the fear at bay.
For a long time they rode, and bells were ringing in their wake, people fleeing before them in the valley. The great host of ghosts followed, awaiting for the king to acknowledge them. Dusk came and went, and still they rode on. Frances was exhausted, leaning against Elrohir and catching a few instants of sleep here and there. At last, she was awakened by a great horn blowing from Aragorn's lips. They had stopped! A curious echo answered while she tried to make sense of what was happening. The company had not dismounted, save their leader who stood at the feet of a huge rounded stone buried at the top of a hill. The hill of Erech, where Aragorn had summoned the dead.
"Oathbreakers, why have ye come?" he cried.
His voice held such authority that the land itself seemed to be bowing. But then, a gust of icy wind blew over the company, and a cavernous sound answered from afar.
"To fulfil our oath, and have peace."
Cold sweat ran between Frances's shoulder blades, and her hold tightened of the elf beside her. How lucky she was to be in such company on an hour so dark! Bless his protectiveness! On the ground, Aragorn laid out terms for an agreement, speaking to the emptiness as if a king of old faced him until he bade Halbarad to unfurl the banner that Arwen had woven. As the cloth sailed in the wind, Aragorn's strong voice covered the grassy hills.
"I am Elessar. Isildur's heir of Gondor."
Frances' chest swelled with pride. To see him proclaim his heirloom so grandly was a surprise, and it brought her great joy. A stony silence greeted his words, and of the dead they heard no more.
"Come my friends," said Aragorn. "Let us rest while we can. We have many leagues to cover until Pelargir."
The grey company dismounted, all of them weary of the dead now surrounding them. There was little talk among the Dunedain; they were far too used to each other and made a camp without a word exchanged. Frances' bedroll was laid down between the twins and Aragorn's. They were so exhausted than no fire was made, no roast nor any repast of any kind stewed on the ambers. Some nibbled on dried fruit and meat. But Frances, for her part, was ready to pass out. So she used her last moments of consciousness to lay a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. In the dark, she could hardly make out his grey eyes. Still, she smiled and sat beside him.
"You have made it Aragorn, and no other than you could have done it. I am proud to be by your side, heir of Gondor."
The ranger passed one arm around her shoulders and tilted her close to him. For a short while, both relished in the warmth of the other, exhaling slowly as tension left their bodies.
"And I, by yours. Thank you for believing in me. Now get some sleep if you can."
"I will snuggle close to Elladan. He doesn't snore and will keep me warm."
'And safe', though Aragorn, but he refrained from saying so. Despite the oath the Dead had sworn to him, their presence was, at the very least, unsettling.
What if they decided to fall under the rule of Sauron once more? In that case, not one of this company would survive their betrayal. And his friend, Legolas, would die before knowing the blessings of love. For he had seen, despite the weight of his worries and the toll of leading the grey company, that the elf had withdrawn from Frances. And he understood. Still, he felt the young lady's pain. And much more so, Legolas' solitude.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein