Remember How I Love You (Sequel to 'Through Fire and Water')

A Little Rain Never Did Anyone Any Harm, But A Lot...

Aragorn's P.O.V.

The weather is still a little uncertain but we set off anyway. After all, a little rain never hurt anyone. However we have only been travelling for a few hours and the gentle patter of rain seems to be growing gradually harder until eventually it's pounding down onto us, our woollen cloaks no longer providing any protection. Not far off in the distance, the great dark mass of Mirkwood stretches out and I half notice the sludgy sound of our horses' hooves getting slightly faster as every one of our group wills himself to be under the relative shelter of the trees a little sooner.

It doesn't take long before the treeline is temptingly close and all of our self-restraint goes out the window. We've been getting gradually faster but now, with shelter almost in our grasp, we dig our heels into our horses' flanks and pelt the last short way.

Under the trees I tell myself that we'll be sheltered and make faster progress, trying to comfort the constant nagging in the back of my mind that we're not going fast enough. In reality, however, I can't quite feel comforted. The rain certainly seems less here, however as the men gather into a line and I bark at them to 'stay on the road! The forest may not be sick any longer but that doesn't mean it's safe. If we lose anyone, we will likely never find them again', I notice with alarming clarity the way the trees violently sway above us.

The daylight from beyond the trees is quickly swallowed up and we're left in the eerie half-light that all dense forests have. As has always been the way in Mirkwood, time slips by in uncertain amounts and it's hard to tell if our horses have walked ten steps or a thousand. The only thing I am certain of is that since we arrived here the storm has grown worse, much worse. Even the shelter of the thick canopy isn't enough to hold the storm back now as the wind buffets holes in it, letting the rain pour though in patches.

It can't be far off midday when I notice one of the men slowly sidling up to bring his horse beside mine. He spends a very long moment silent, fidgeting and repeatedly opening his mouth before closing it again. I leave him to this for a short while before I can't bear to see him do so any longer. "What is it?" I ask and he jumps, the alarmed look in his eyes reminding me of a cornered wild animal. He continues to gape like a fish for a moment before my raised eyebrows and questioning stare seem to jolt him out of his trance.

"I have been speaking with some of the others" he stutters out, before apparently getting stuck again.

"Good for you. It's nice to socialise" I reply. He looks terrified at my response, apparently believing me incapable of sarcasm and taking me seriously. "Relax, you look like a cornered rabbit" I say. He does not relax at all. "What were you and the others talking about?"

"We... Well... We..."

I raise my eyebrows at him again and he spurs into action.

"It has been suggested that this storm is making continuing on our current path less than safe, what with everyone being wet and tired and the ground being less than stable" he finally blurts out.

"So to summarise, everyone is wet, tired, cold and hungry and the rain is making the floor too muddy to sensibly continue and you lost whatever bet or game was played to decide who had to tell me"

"Yes"

I look back at our small group, all of who are huddled in their cloaks, and then I look forwards down our road, or at least as much of the road I can see as the rain makes seeing very far difficult. Mirkwood is dangerous even at the best of times, let alone in the middle of a storm.

"We are aware of your reluctance to stop, my Lord, but it is our duty to protect you and continuing in such uncertain conditions would mean forsaking that duty" the man says quietly. I stare ahead. Inside myself I can feel a battle being fought, the sentimental side of me pitted against the natural leader part of myself. It's a battle I have known on several occasions, and it seems as though there is something in my blood which means there will only ever be one victor, and it's not the sentimental part.