Sloshing through putrid water, Robin wondered if it was too late to place the noose back around his neck.
The stench was almost unbearable and at one point, he swore he saw something in the water move. Aragorn claimed that the tunnel led all the way out of the city, so they'd come out near the mountains.
Then from there, it was straight to Rhûn. Well... straight-ish.
Robin wrinkled his nose and continued forcing his way through the thick goo. No amount of freedom could be worth this.
Legolas and Aria both had torches, which flickered off the damp walls. The only sound was their movements and the city life above. But even as he squinted, Robin couldn't see an opening ahead.
"Aye, Hope."
Aragorn paused. Then slowly, he turned. "What?"
Gazing pointedly in the direction they were heading, Robin arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure this leads out? And not... I dunno, into a never-ending pit of stink?"
The king's face tightened. He didn't even answer, turning instead back around and continuing forward.
Robin frowned.
The others followed the man, except for Elanor, who waited for Robin to catch up. Falling by his side, she gave him a sideways glance. "You know, you might have better luck getting answers if you changed tactics."
Robin snorted. "Change tactics?"
"You know, manners and stuff," Elanor raised a brow. "Didn't your parents ever teach you the wonders of please and thank you?"
Robin sombered a little at that, but quickly tried to cover it with a grin. "Sure, love, let's go with that."
Elanor fixed her gaze on the ground, mindlessly tucking a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. "So, Rhûn. What's it like?"
Robin shifted his bag on his shoulders, gazing at the Ranger. "What's with the sudden interest in me? Are you writing my life story?"
Elanor blinked, looking up. Then her gaze hardened a little and she scoffed. "Nevermind, Hood. You're impossible."
She started forward and Robin blinked. Then he cursed, "Rhûn isn't nice, if that's what you were hoping. We're walking to our deaths."
To his slight relief, Elanor paused, glancing over her shoulder. Picking up his pace a little, Robin shrugged. "Picture hot weather and barbarians that enjoy fighting to the death. Then add a little more hot weather."
She winced. "That bad?"
"Eh, a little worse." Robin didn't voice the fact that he really didn't want to go back. It had been a bad move going there in the first place. The only thing that had saved his skin was the fact that he had Andúril.
"Do you have any strategies for getting in?"
It was Legolas's voice.
Frowning, Robin looked up, glaring at the elf. "Do you always listen to conversations that aren't meant for your ears?"
Legolas blinked, then gazed around. "I didn't mean any offense."
"Of course you didn't," Robin scoffed. "Because you're the prime example of a perfect elf. With manners and all the ridiculous stuff."
"You dislike the elves," Legolas raised a brow. "Why?"
Wrinkling his nose, Robin simply shrugged. "I never said I disliked them. Just that you and..." He gazed around. "Wait. Why aren't the Noldor orcs wading through this stench too?" His hopes rose a little. "Did we leave them behind?"
Casting a glance over his shoulder, Aragorn didn't look impressed. "They are waiting for us beyond the tunnel, with horses."
Robin's heart sunk. Good Mordor.
He'd quite forgotten about them, to be honest.
"So tell me, Hope," Robin gazed at Aragorn's back. The king was dressed not in his robes or kingly wear, but tattered boots and dark clothes. He was dressed much like Elanor... in Ranger wear.
Dúnedain wear.
Aragorn didn't even look back to acknowledge Robin had spoken.
Robin continued anyway. "Why exactly does this sword mean so much to you? I happen to have gone through many weapons myself, and never shed a tear."
"It was my father's sword." It was a simple toned answer.
Scratching his nose, Robin narrowed his eyes. "Yes, and? You would risk your life for a sword?"
"You gave yourself up for a ring."
The statement made Robin's blood freeze. "What?"
The king glanced over his shoulder, grey eyes unreadable. Torchlight shone off his gruff face. "Is that not why you escaped when you had the chance? Everyone is bound by something."
A sword. A ring.
Robin bit his tongue, unable to formulate an answer. The silence that descended over the group was almost uneasy.
But finally, as they continued on, there was a reflection of light off the water up ahead. The city noises above were gone and the tunnel opened up.
Robin's boots were soaked through by the time he reached solid, dry land-- soaked with what, he didn't want to know. There was a crack in the trees around the sewer, then a chuckle, and two dark-haired elves stepped into the open.
"Legolas!" Elladan grinned. "You look terrible!"
The elf rolled his eyes.
The twin's led two horses each, and there were five other horses tethered to the nearby trees. Robin was quietly delighted to see the same horse that he had ridden to Gondor was one of the nine, moving over to the mare and running his hand down its flank.
"Hood."
Robin turned toward the king, who had taken one of the horses that Elladan led forward. Arching a brow, he forced a mock smile. "Yes, your highlyness?"
"To Rhûn," Aragorn didn't look amused. "Of the trails, are there any quicker than traveling through the mainland?"
Robin smirked at that, swinging his bag over Gilroc. "Of course there is. Not one you would like though."
A clenching jaw was his sign to continue.
"Cutting past Mordor," Robin beamed, shrugging. "Or at least, what is left of it. The fastest way is to pass near the mountains, to avoid the Sea of Rhun and the river that feeds it. Unless you plan on swimming all the way to the Easterlings."
The man eyed him for a long moment, as if gauging if he was telling the truth. Then blinking, he swung atop his own horse. "You lead."
Robin blinked. "What?"
"Take the lead," Aragorn glanced over at him, grey eyes unreadable. "But remember, we won't give up your trail if you decided to take off. Andúril is your freedom."
A glower claimed Robin's face at that and he narrowed his eyes. "Fine." You twisted little son of a--
Thralor grunted loudly as he climbed across his horse, neither dwarf or beast looking happy. Sighing, Robin turned his horse north.
This was not going to end well.
"I could tell the tale about Beren and Lúthien," Aragorn finally gave into Elanor's insisting for a story, a grin cracking across his bearded face. "Or..."
"What about your battle with Sauron?"
The air went silent and Robin could feel every eye on his back before he even turned around, gazing at the king. "Or the Battle of the Pelennor. Heard that was a fun one."
"Fun?" Aragorn's voice had turned dangerously tense.
Clenching his jaw, Robin tried to keep his expression neutral, shrugging. "It was a victory, was it not? Though I don't imagine you cared very much, judging by the fact that the wounded were left to fend for themselves while the armies rode on."
Elanor's voice broke the air; "Robin..."
"No, Elanor," Aragorn cut her off. He was sitting so rigidly now, he looked on the verge of snapping. "Your every breath holds a quarrel with me, Wilin. Why?"
Scowling, Robin turned his back to the man, nudging Gilroc a little faster. But he barely got five feet before Aragorn sped his horse past, the man abruptly turning his steed and reining him right in front of Robin. Gilroc neighed and reared-- cursing, Robin barely managed to hold on.
"Companions that do not trust might as well be enemies," Aragorn growled, his grey eyes flashing.
"Then I guess it's a good thing we're still enemies," Robin snarled back, pulling Gilroc to a stop and shifting to keep his balance on her saddle. "I do so hate the paperwork of changing sides."
"You wish me dead." To Robin's surprise, Aragorn pushed himself down from his horse, drawing his sword and glaring up at Robin. "Why not finish the job?"
"I-- you--" Robin blinked. Then he scoffed, shaking his head dubiously. "I lay a finger on you, it'll either be an arrow in the chest or axe through the gut. I don't fancy either."
"No interferences," Aragorn arched a goading brow, smirking a little and tossing his sword from one hand to another. "Unless you really are nothing but a mouthful of insults."
Nothing. Rage turned Robin's vision red and he shoved himself off of Gilroc, swinging his bow from around his shoulders. But instead of loading it, he threw it sideways into the dirt, metal screeching as he drew his own sword. "Your death for my freedom?"
"You can try."
"Oh, I'll do more than try," Robin barely noticed the worried looks cast among the companions as the horses teetered away, sensing danger. Admist the rocks and sloped hills, he circled the king, anger pulsing through his veins.
Rocks crunched faintly at his back, followed by Legolas's uncertain voice; "Estel...?"
The king's eyes flicked to the elf. But before he could even answer, Robin took that moment to leap forward, swinging his sword with a yell.
Surprise flooded the man's eyes and he stumbled back.
Sparks rang as their sword clashed, Robin pressing forward with narrowed eyes. His every sense sang with the euphoria of battle, a feeling he had missed. Whether it was pickpocketing a sack of silver from a royal or going headfirst into a fight, he loved the feeling.
Aragorn shoved back with surprising strength, his eyes seeming to be reflecting the same look. The voices in Robin's head screamed for blood, every reasoning for his hatred of the man rising to the surface.
He would kill him.
"Aragorn, this is madness!"
Blocking out the voices of the others, Robin suddenly yanked away from the king's blade, rolling under his swipe. The air whistled above his head and Aragorn spun on his heel, driving his blade down hard.
The sword tip sunk into the dirt inches from Robin's face.
"I guess it's true what they say," Robin rolled and sprang back to his feet, smirking despite everything as he retreated a few steps back. "They do get slower with old age."
"Older," Aragorn leaped forward and Robin ducked under his slice, kicking and barely missing the man's feet. "But not slower." He sliced sideways again.
Robin didn't yank away quick enough this time, and a sharp stinging ripped through his arm as the king's blade caught his upper bicep. Looking down, he watched as blood stained his tunic sleeve, then looked back up, glaring at the man.
Aragorn smirked.
Letting loose a shout, Robin left forward-- feigning sideways and then whirling around on his heel, pulling a hidden knife from his sleeve. As Aragorn started to defend his left side, Robin spun to his right, driving the thin blade down with all of his strength.
It sunk into flesh almost silently.
Then Aragorn's shout of pain broke the air.
Robin was so engulfed in his flash of momentary victory, he didn't see the kick coming until it met his chest, sending him flying back. He hit the ground hard-- and a sudden pain exploded through his head, followed by a warm wetness. Reaching up, he realized he had hit the sharp end of a rock, fingers feeling over a wide gash.
Bloody hell...
He barely attempted to stand when another pain exploded through his chest and he shouted out, curling into a ball as Aragorn landed another kick. Then suddenly, he was being held against the ground, a blade thrust up against his neck.
Stars danced before his eyes. Opening and closing his mouth, Robin tasted the metallic tang of blood.
There was a dark malice in Aragorn's eyes, Robin's knife still in his arm. He pressed the sword harder and Robin's breath hitched, a sudden pang of fear chilling his blood.
"Estel! Enough!"
The world was moving slow, but Robin faintly noticed hands pulling the king off him; Elladan and Elrohir pulling Aragorn back. Then there were hands under his armpits, pulling him none too gently to his feet.
"Mordor," Robin cursed as the world spun, trying to pull loose but only succeeding in stumbling back to the ground. "Get off of me!"
"Fools!" Green fire was alit in Elanor's eyes. "You're both fools!"
"I prefer the term 'mildly unhinged when coming across ignoramus orcholes'," Robin grumbled, clutching a useless hand to the gash on his head. Blood still dripped down his arm.
Aragorn had pulled free, taking a deep breath and pacing back and forth. Then he stopped in front of Robin, reaching up and wiping a thin line of blood from his nose. "I--"
"Don't wanna hear it." The world spun in and out and Robin resisted the urge to throw up, dropping his gaze instead to the dirt.
Legolas moved beside the king. "We need to get both your wounds treated. Estel..." He blinked, then shook his head. "You are both fools."
Robin didn't even look up to see the man's response, resting his forehead on his arm. He already knew he was losing too much blood, colors starting to turn fuzzy and his body starting to feel like it was splitting in half.
But he barely was able to blink as Elanor kneeled by his side, when Aria tensed, standing beside Elladan and Elrohir. The breeze caught her dark hair, and she threw a glance over her shoulder. "Something is wrong."
Elladan blinked. "Wrong? I don't sense anythin--"
In the distance, a sharp bark broke the air, followed by a series of blood-curdling howls. The world fading in and out, Robin blinked a few times, a remark on his tongue but not able to come out.
Faintly, he heard another howl. Then Elanor's voice saying his name as the other's drew their weapons.
But the world turned black and suddenly, he heard nothing.
*wrings hands nervously*
Heyyyyy, everyone! So I've been writing over this chapter for almost a week now, and figured it was finally edited enough and everything for release. So... how are you all?
I guess it was a matter of time before Robin pushed the wrong buttons and someone finally took a swipe at him... sadly, Aragorn was this unhappy camper. What do you guys think, will they ever get along?
Discussion starter: Oh, how I adore fight scenes. Especially this one, just cause it was extra entertaining to write. Thoughts? And now they're in more danger... poor folks just can't catch a break.