Chapter Two

Aragorn sized the man up. Even considering his himself was still sitting on the floor, the ranger knew the other man was taller than he was. He was large, though muscular, not heavy-set. A cloth cap covered his dirty, gray-streaked brown hair. A mouth full of yellowed teeth split his dark mustache from his scruffy beard.

“I been waitin’ a long time to set eyes on you again - Thorongil.” There was a definite tinge of hatred when he said the name.

The man stepped back, as Aragorn managed to get to his feet. His head swam from the blow it had taken, so he was forced to lean against a small table for support. Gradually, the room settled down, and Aragorn turned his full attention on the large man in front of him. It was then he saw the knife the man had drawn. “You know me?” the ranger asked.

“Oh yes. I know you. I was a soldier in the Gondorian army back when you was captain. My name is Chandur.”

Aragorn stared hard at the man, but could not place the name or the face. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

“Typical. Your kind never do remember the ones you send out to die in battle.”

Again anger flashed in the ranger’s eyes. “I led my men in battle.”

“Yeah, when you could be bothered.” Sarcasm dripped from the man’s mouth. He raised the knife a few inches higher, making sure the tip was pointed directly at Aragorn’s heart.

“Soldiers need leadership or there would be nothing but chaos. Why do you hate me so for doing my duty?”

“You sent my brother on a suicide mission. You knew there was no chance he’d return, yet you sent him anyway. He was killed!”

“I’m truly sorry for your loss,” the ranger said sincerely, “We fought desperate enemies in Gondor. Soldiers died. Unfortunately, it’s the nature of war and the price we must pay for freedom.”

“He didn’t have to go. He was only twenty years old! You knew he wouldn’t come back. You killed him as surely as if you’d run him through with your own sword.” This time, when Chandur raised the knife even higher, he lunged.

Aragorn, knowing that might happen, attempted to move out of the way. His head was clear, but his body was still sluggish from the effects of the blow from the belaying pin. He inwardly screamed at his body to move, but it seemed to respond in slow motion.

The knife headed for his heart was moving twice as fast as he was. The result was not going to be a good one, but he knew with certainty that there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening. Aragorn closed his eyes, waiting for the impact that would take his life.

Suddenly behind him, he heard a loud, splintering crash. Something flew by his right ear and flashed as it passed along the peripheral vision of his right eye.

It wasn’t until Chandur’s forward progress was arrested, and the man stood stock still that Aragorn saw the long white handle with a few inches of steel blade protruding from his chest. The look of surprise gave way, as Chandur’ss face was slowly twisted into one of shocked disbelief. It was horrible to watch.

As Chandur hit the floor, Aragorn hit the table, his body still moving in its attempt to escape the other man’s lunge.

For the second time in a matter of moments, Aragorn felt strong hands grab him. This time, however, he knew for certain that these hands did belong to Legolas.

“Estel, are you all right?” asked the worried elf. leaning down so he could look into the man’s eyes.

“I am now,” the ranger replied. He took a couple of steps backward so he could sit in the chair next to the table. His legs felt weak, and he was loath to risk falling, even though Legolas still had a strong hold on him.

Legolas turned his head to stare down at the dead man at their feet. “Who was he, and why was he trying to kill you?”

“I’ll explain when we report this to Captain Rummel.” Aragorn looked up at his friend, a silent plea not to have to explain everything twice.

Legolas nodded.

Just then the voices of several men were heard out in the hallway. Aragorn knew it was time to face the music. He just hoped the captain was a fair man who would listen to his story of attack, long-held revenge and the action taken to save his life, and not condemn him or Legolas out of hand. It could do either way. After all, Chandur was one of his crew.

When Aragorn nodded that he was ready, Legolas went to the door and motioned for one of the men they had heard and asked that the captain be sent for.

*~*~*~*

Half an hour later, Aragorn finished telling his story. He looked at the dead man and then at Captain Rummel. “He tried to kill me to avenge his brother, and Lasgalen stopped him,” the ranger summed up. “I hope you see that this tragic business started with him and not either of us.”

Captain Rummel’s expression was grim, though his words were not. “Fear not, Thorongil. This man has sailed with me for three years, and in all that time, I’ve never seen him laugh or even smile. He had no friends among the crew. It was plain to us all that he had a bitter heart. I find no fault with either of you.”

“What will you do now?” Aragorn asked.

“We’ll keep his body below until tomorrow when we reach the next port. The magistrate there can deal with the situation.

"As for you two, you can depart at your original destination. I’m satisfied with the truth of what you’ve told me.”

Just before Legolas turned away, the captain reached down and pulled the long knife out of Chandur’s chest. He wiped it on the dead man’s shirt and then looked closely at the blade.

Legolas and Aragorn exchanged glances behind his back. If he recognized the knife as being elven, they might have some more explaining to do. And Legolas would surely have to reveal himself.

“Beautiful knife,” the captain said admiringly. “I’ve never seen it’s like before.”

Aragorn quickly covered. “It was handed down through my family. I gave it to Lasgalen as a gift.”

“A mighty lucky gift, if you ask me,” was the captain’s only remark, as he handed the knife to Legolas. He didn’t ask why the ‘man’ still had his hood up, when they were below deck and out of the sun. It would have been one of those nosey questions he never asked, but inwardly, he would love to know the answer. He had a feeling there was more to this person than sensitive skin.

Once the two friends had returned to their cabin, a relieved Aragorn sat down on his bed while Legolas stood near the door, listening to make sure no one was in the hall before pushing his hood back.

The elf looked at the ranger. “We are fortunate, mellon nin, that the captain believed us. We could just as easily be in chains right now.”

Aragorn let out a long, slow breath. “How well I know it,” he replied.

“I am glad that you are safe but sorry that man brought back unpleasant memories for you.”

“There were good times in Gondor in those days, as well as bad ones. Chandur’s brother was part of the latter. I still don’t remember either of them, but there were so many young men that came and went and met their death during those years. So many.”

A distant look had entered Aragorn’s eyes, and Legolas kept his silence. He would leave it up to his friend to decide when to move on.

A few moments later, Aragorn shook himself free of the memories of another time and place. It was time to concentrate on the future.

*~*~*~*

The spot where the passengers wanted to be let off the ship was merely a small strip of beach to the east of where the mountains sat beside the sea, poking their stony fingers into the surf that continually rolled against them.

The ship anchored as close in as the depth of the water would allow, and a small boat was lowered to ferry Legolas and Aragorn to shore.

The two friends jumped from the little boat and landed calf deep in the gently breaking waves. By the time they had stepped onto the sand, the row boat was headed back to the ship.

Aragorn gave a final wave to those on the Sea Spirit, like particularly the captain, who he knew were watching their departure and probably wondering why these two mysterious passenger would leave a ship to land on a small deserted beach. They couldn’t know that there was a path leading back into the hills this side of the mountains that led to a ranger outpost, whose very existence was a secret to all but a few.

Legolas and Aragorn turned away from the sea to continue their journey on foot. It was then that the gulls appeared.

At the very first note of the graceful seabirds’ haunting cries, Legolas’s head had shot up, and his keen elven eyes followed the path the feathered creatures flew above him. There were six of them, and each one seemed to be calling to the elf.

The elegant gray and white birds wheeled in circles above the sand. They rose, soared and dived, all the while their cries filled the air.

The rest of the world melted away, as the seagulls’ song flowed through Legolas’s heart and soul, sundering both from all that he had known and loved his entire life. In a matter of seconds, the wood-elf, whose face reflected awe and wonder, was lost to the forests of Arda and clamed by the sea.

Aragorn, standing a few feet away, could no more understand the sea longing on an emotional level than he could commune with a tree, but he knew what it meant. He knew his beloved friend would either give in to this new desire and sail West or, if he chose to stay, suffer here in Middle-earth because of it. Aragorn couldn’t decide which would hurt worse.
In utter misery, the man closed his eyes, sank to his knees and wept.

The gulls flew in ever widening circles, all the while moving down the beach until they began swooping and soaring in tight circles once again. Without even being aware of it, Legolas had followed them.

The archer stopped and watched, as totally mesmerized by the seagulls as he had been the instant he had first heard their calls.

“Beautiful, are they not?”

The voice was unfamiliar, yet the strength of it easily penetrated Legolas’s total absorption in the feathered creatures he was watching so intently.

The wood-elf looked toward the sound of the voice. Standing in front of the nearby rocks, was a man in a white robe, pointed hat and long, white beard. At first, Legolas thought it might be Mithrandir. But he quickly realized it was not the wizard.

“Who are you?” The elf was usually not so forward in asking the identity of others, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

“I am often called by many names, but to you I am the King of the Sea.”

Legolas stared before finally finding his voice. “Ulmo? You are Ulmo?”

Ulmo dipped his head in acknowledgment.

Legolas did not doubt this being’s identity. The elf immediately went down on one knee and bowed his head. His right hand was closed and resting against his left shoulder. The pose was an offer of respect. He looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Rise, my child.”

“Have you come to take me to Valinor?” The very thought that one of the most powerful Lords of the Valar would come to this deserted place to do that for a simple elven prince made him blush with embarrassment, as soon as the words left his mouth. How could he have said such a thing? “Forgive me,” he whispered to the ethereal being before him.

Ulmo smiled. “I have come to give you a gift, but that is not it.” The Vala’s eyes were amused but gentle, as he looked at the young immortal.

“A gift?” Legolas repeated, forgetting all about the seagulls and concentrating on the fact that he was standing on an isolated beach talking to the Lord of Waters himself.

He must have fallen asleep and was having a most unusual dream. However, it was a dream he was willing to let play out, because he wanted to know what the gift was, even if it wasn’t real.

“You risked awakening the sea longing in you to come on this journey, because you believed that there was something bad you could prevent from happening. Am I right?”

“Yes.” ‘Of course, you are,’ Legolas almost added.

“And if you had not been on that ship, your friend would have been killed.”

Legolas nodded, a flicker of sadness crossing his face at the prospect of losing Estel, because he would not have been there to prevent it. He was glad his stubbornness had outlasted the ranger’s.

“There are events that will come to pass in Middle-earth that cannot be spoken of now. However, I can tell you that you will have a hand to play in their outcome. Your friend’s time in Arda is far from over, and you will play a part in his accomplishments, as well. The events that will take place, his life and yours are all intertwined and are necessary for the survival of Middle-earth as it should be for all free peoples.”

Legolas listened intently to Ulmo, as he spoke. The elf couldn’t really comprehend all that he was hearing, but what he did comprehend was that he himself must remain here to play some part in important events yet to come. “Then I am to fight the sea longing and remain here in Middle-earth.”

“You must remain, yes, but you do not have to fight the call of the sea.” ‘Someday, young prince,’ he thought, ‘but not yet.’

“I do not understand,” Legolas declared. “ It has been awakened in me, and I know that it cannot be changed.”

Ulmo smiled indulgently. “Ah, but you forget that I am the King of the Sea. I can change anything to do with water.” He let Legolas think about that for a moment before he resumed. “That is the gift I give to you.”

So many thoughts were crashing into each other in the elf’s mind, that he couldn’t sort them out. He just continued to stare at the Vala, who continued to smile back at him.

Ulmo reached out and placed his hand on the side of Legolas’s face. A warm, powerful feeling of peace, such as Legolas had never known before, overtook the young elf, and he could not avoid giving in to it. He lay down on the sand.

The Vala closed Legolas's eyes before taking an object out of an inner pocket in his robe and placing it in the elf's hand, closing his long, slender fingers over it. “Sleep now, my child. You will remember nothing of this when you awaken, but you will be free.” Then Ulmo turned and walked into the sea.

*~*~*~*

Aragorn had wept all the tears he had for Legolas and for himself. He raised his head, not having any idea how long he had been on his knees. He stood up slowly, wiped his face and looked around, fully expecting to see Legolas still standing and staring at the seagulls. There was no sign of the elf.

The man turned in a complete circle but saw no one else on the beach. “Legolas! Legolas!”

“I am here,” came a voice down the beach.

When Aragorn looked again, he saw Legolas walking toward him and waving. Where had that elf materialized from?

When Legolas reached him, Aragorn said, “Where did you go off to and why?”

“I went...” Legolas paused when he suddenly realized he had no idea how to answer. “I must have gone to get this.” He opened his hand and held it out for Aragorn to see. Lying in the elf's palm was a beautiful beige seashell with a dark brown lacey pattern covering its smooth, shiny surface.

“You went off to find a seashell?” The man sounded dubious.

“What were you doing?” Legolas asked, as he slipped the shell into a pocket of his tunic.

“I...” the man realized that he had no idea what he had been doing. He looked around and shook his head. “Is this place enchanted?”

“I do not know,” the elf replied.

“Well, we can’t stay here on this beach. We need to get started if we intend on reaching the ranger outpost before nightfall.”

As they moved inland to find the path that would take them to their destination, Aragorn was still shaking his head. "This was not exactly the uneventful journey I was hoping for."

"Since when have any of our journeys together been uneventful?" Legolas wanted to know.

"Well, there was that one time..."

The End