Disclaimer: the ONLY thing I own is Jacqueline, anything you don't
recognize from the books and a little of the plot but not all. Majority of
the plotline, most lines(which are usually adaptations from the original
book) and all LOTR characters belong to Tolkien. Some character lines are
switched(i.e. one thing Aragorn says in the books Legolas might say here) -
still belongs to Tolkien.
A/N: After three days of unpacking, laundry and LOADS of sleep, chapter 18 is finally here. I didn't realize how exhausted I had gotten from that week until I came home. Anyway here's the chapter in its entirety. Enjoy.
Chapter 18 - A Kindred Soul Returns
Jacqueline sat huddled in her cloak watching dawn coming upon them. Images of her father still lingered in her mind, and she closed her eyes against them. It was hard for her to understand how she could be the goodness that defies Mordor when such evilness coarsed through her blood. The others began to stir near her, and Jacqueline opened her eyes though not saying a word. They managed a small sort of breakfast without conversation until Boromir spoke.
"Jacqueline, about last night," he began, speaking the thoughts of the other three sitting nearby.
"Boromir, I know what it is you would ask," Jacqueline turned to him. "And in all honesty I cannot bring myself to speak of it."
"I think it might be for the best Jacqueline," Aragorn suggested gently, cleaning his knife. "It may bring some comfort to you in one way or another."
"Please Jacqueline," Gimli urged. "We wish to help."
She hesitated, and Legolas interlaced his slender fingers within her own in silent encouragement, giving her the final push to draw strength from their actions. "My.my episode last night...I.I had a terrible dream."
She stopped, the horrid images flooding back to her mind. Legolas gently squeezed her hand, Gimli nodded for her to continue, and Aragorn and Boromir barely held their eager persistence down.
"I saw...I saw some of what happened to my mother," she continued, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. "It was not the orc dens I saw."
"Where was it?" Aragorn pressed spontaneously. It went unnoticed.
"She was immediately taken near Mordor; the screams were proof enough. Locked her in Minas Morgul and." she bit her lower lip to stop the sobs. Over and over again the story rewound and started again, being nearly as agonizing as the torture administered to Celebrian. Again she closed her eyes against it, but after a few moments she was unable to stand it. Hastily she got up and left them in a sort of attempt to banish the anguish. They watched her go, and Boromir and Legolas nearly followed.
"No. Stay," Aragorn ordered. "Hide all evidence that we have been here. I will speak to her."
Reluctantly they listened, and began hiding their camp. Jacqueline had stopped at the eaves of Fangorn, leaning against a proud oak. She had covered her eyes with her forearm to prevent tears but to no avail, and the elbow that supported her grinded against the oak. Aragorn approached her with elven-like silence.
"Jacqueline, forgive me. I had not known that such anguish might lie in your dreams," he began, placing a hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head so that her mouth was covered, but did not face him.
"I just do not understand them. Why am I seeing the things I am seeing?" she asked, turning to face him.
He rubbed her shoulder gently, desperately trying to soothe her. "If I knew any comforting words that would help, I would say them Jacqueline. But unfortunately, I am no Gandalf."
She nodded, roughly wiping away her tears like a shameful child. "I know you would Estel, and for that I am grateful." She paused, and gazed into the thickets of Fangorn. "But I tell you now to not concern yourself with my troubles, for they seem to be mine for the dealing."
He shook his head in soft protest and went to speak, but she held up a hand to silence him. "Estel, your troubles and worries are already great without my own added. There are great expectations weighing on you, and great things lie in waiting. I know you and the rest of our Company have sworn to aid me, and I will allow it if and only if the journey allows it."
Aragorn nodded sadly in understanding, knowing that he would not be able to dispute her wishes. He turned back to the others, who had hid their camp well and were now searching about. He was about to go join them when something caught his eyes. He turned to Jacqueline.
"Go on Estel, reassemble the company," she answered, nodding in the direction he had last looked. "I will go on ahead into Fangorn."
"Bur you are half-elven, and have left not a footprint in all our travels. How must I find you?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"You will know the path Estel," she reassured, trying to smile through her sadness. "Trust yourself."
He nodded and walked off, calling the others to him. Jacqueline watched him go and sighed; though she had told him and the others much and shared what she had learned, there was one thing she kept to herself: - that eventually she would leave all of them and go to Mordor. Alone.
Boromir and Legolas walked about the area in hopes of finding some sign of the hobbits; Gimli was doing likewise some distance to their right. They moved slow so as to not miss any slight detail. For the most part no words were spoken, until Legolas felt the need to break the silence.
"Do you think we shall find any sign of the hobbits here?" he asked idly, his sharp eyes focused.
"If we do it will surely be a miracle," Boromir answered, assessing carefully. "I am sure Jacqueline has been right most of our journey, but I am still in need of a sign that our friends did not perish with the orcs."
"What makes you speak such words?" the Elf questioned.
Boromir stopped a moment, thinking he had found something, and Legolas paused as well. It turned out to be nothing, and Boromir stood up as they continued on.
"Her dreams," he answered. "I fear they may be giving her false assurances. Whatever her father is, he is surely evil and seems to be influencing her for the worst."
"I had not thought of that," Legolas admitted. "But I am sure even one such as her would know the difference. The Lord and Lady's wisdom seems to flow through her."
"That is true Legolas; her elvish heritage does flow strong," Boromir agreed. "And yet I still wonder."
Silence settled between them, and they began to run out of places to search. A question began preying on Boromir's mind, a question so persistent it burned both his mind and his heart with curious desperation. They as he might, he could not purge it from himself silently. Giving up the struggle he let the words slip from his lips.
"Legolas, why did you kiss Jacqueline three nights ago?"
The Elf looked at him in shock, and stopped dead in his tracks. Boromir's breath caught in his throat, taking Legolas' reaction as a sign that he was being threatened. It couldn't have been farther from that; Boromir was merely curious about Legolas' feelings toward Jacqueline, and if they were similar to his own.
Legolas sighed and looked away a moment, gathering his thoughts. At last he turned and faced the man.
"In truth Boromir, I know not why I did it. Only that I had to. She has sparked something in me, some strange feeling I have never felt before. I am not yet sure if I may call it love, but I know it is greater than friendship."
"How long have you felt this way?" Boromir enquired.
"Since we ventured forth from Rivendell," Legolas shrugged. He then raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Boromir looked down. "Because I feel much like you Legolas."
Legolas nodded thoughtfully; he had suspected as much. His feelings towards Jacqueline had become more evident these past few days, carefully showing on his noble face. But pride still flowed through the man, and he was always showing as little as possible. Legolas, on the other hand, was open; he let show what he was feeling regardless of what it was. The only pride he bore was the proud modesty of his abilities. He let out a soft chuckle.
"Legolas? What is so funny?" Boromir asked, looking at him in puzzlement.
"It is strange, is it not?" Legolas countered with a hint of a smile. "A half-elven woman with perhaps the strangest of tales, innocently ensnares a mortal Gondorian warrior and a Sindarin Elf prince. I doubt even she knows the answer to this tale."
"I think it is safe to say she favours you my friend," Boromir replied sadly. The Elf shook his head.
"She is just as confused as we are Boromir," he said assuringly. "But do not let this come between us, for if at the end of the story she finds happiness in you, then all the happier I shall be."
Boromir smiled, grateful that Legolas had not taken offense to the man's words. "As I shall too, should her happiness lie in you."
Aragorn called to all of them suddenly, astonishment and slight excitement laced in his tone. Immediately they ran to where he stood and saw cut ropes, a broken orc knife, a dying mallorn leaf covered in crumbs, many footprints mixed with hoofprints, and one puzzling mystery.
Jacqueline sprinted ahead, praying she was on the right path. Fangorn's ancient patterns were much harder than she had imagined, and the water she heard seemed to come from many directions. There was something in the air which took her breath like a humid day. It was like the very wood was angry and compassionate all at once, as if it knew exactly who she was. Her pace slowed to a standstill and she gazed upwards, questioning the forest silently. No answer was given. Her eyes fell to her surroundings again, and a lapping of water louder than the rest caught her ear. Glancing upwards once more before running to it, her cloak billowing out behind her as her sword bounced against her thigh, she came to two small prints on the bank. She sighed thankfully; she had reached the Entwash. She looked up again, smiling, then spoke to the ancient ears she knew were listening.
"I know completely who I am, but do not be angry with me because I wish no evil upon this wood. Please, I must find my friends, and though my roots lie in Arda, I am still a stranger to it. I must get to Treebeard's Hall; please show me Wellinghall."
As if the wood perceived, and indeed it did, a path opened up to Jacqueline. She knew the way now.
"Diola lleThank you." She replied gratefully, and sped off on her way. The trees rustled contently after her in response.
Four of the Five Hunters stood about, puzzled. The answer to their riddle came in incomplete guesses and provided nothing but barely touchable peace of mind. By the end they had concluded that the hobbits were carried to where the hunters now stood and their feet were bound. The hoofprints and large footprints showed that an orc had carried then, and had been slain by one of the Rohirrim. The mallorn leaf was provided by the hobbits who, hidden by their elven-cloaks, were able to sit and eat the waybread; certainly exhaustion had come upon them. Aragorn's greatest fear lay in the fact that there was no proof of two hobbits even though Jacqueline had said they were both out there. He feared just as she did that her presence may change what she knew.
"Then how did either of the hobbits get a hand free?" Gimli asked.
"I do not know Gimli, nor do I know why they had been carried off. Clearly not to escape; my guess is treachery," Aragorn answered. "For it is now that I am beginning to understand why the foul creatures merely left us behind after grabbing Merry and Pippin. They were ordered to take hobbits alive, which is why us and our camp were not sought. It is likely that a bold orc made the attempt to carry the prisoners to Isengard. That is my story, though others may be forged. Of course, it may not seem much to you without Jacqueline."
"Where has she gone?" the Dwarf asked.
"I let her go ahead into Fangorn alone," the Ranger answered.
"You did what?!" both Legolas and Boromir exclaimed simultaneously. Aragorn nodded, sad but factual.
"But what if she were to become lost, Aragorn?" Legolas asked quietly and calmly. "You have heard her say before she knows not her way around Middle Earth."
"And Fangorn is too vast to search," Boromir agreed. "It is impossible to go searching for both her and our hobbit friends."
"We will just have to trust her," Aragorn replied, turning and heading into the wood.
Jacqueline kept on moving, trusting whatever was guiding her. Perhaps it was the trees she had placed all trust in, or perhaps fate. Or maybe even herself, which seemed most likely. It had just recently occurred to her that she may be doubting herself, that she may be capable of more than she was admitting. Was it possible that Fangorn knew of her doubts, and helped her to see herself for what she really was? Well, she believed it; after all Fangorn was mysterious and not known well, so who knows what it was capable of?
Along the way she came across signs of the hobbits and what she believed to be Treebeard. It made her sigh in relief; nothing had changed so far. When she had put much distance behind her(and some subtle clues should Aragorn's trust slip) she came to Wellinghall, Treebeard's home. The steep stone ledge loomed in front of her, the stairs leading upwards to softer air. Sighing heavily, she cautiously climed the stairs while feeling as though she were being watched or followed. It seemed as though for a time the stairs stretched right on to heaven, butr soon she found its end. The world extended out all around her; she could see the Anduin flowing wild and free in the distance, the Emyn Muil go far and wide, Meduseld a speck on the horizon.
The breeze played with her dark elven-dressed hair as she stood there, wondering what to do next. The rest of her company was probably only halfway to where she stood at best, so going on ahead would be unwise. What to do, what to do.
"Estelwen? Are you up there Estelwen?" a voice called out. It sounded gentle and impatient in the same instant; only one voice ever sounded like that. Jacqueline spun around and gazed down the stairs behind her, where a figure in grey dirty robes stood at its base.
"Ah, there you are," the figure replied, climbing upwards. "I was not sure if you would have gone ahead or stayed out of love for him."
Her brow creased. "How do you know that? I do not even know who he is."
He chuckled as he climbed, leaning on his staff. "You are blind to your own heart, child. It is quite obvious who it is that you love if one looks in the right way. Why can you of all people not see it?"
"I suppose my mind has been concerned with.other things," she answered hesitantly. He paused, and she could see him nod with her elven eyesight.
"Hmm, so he has begun to test you eh? Well, he is moving much quicker than I had thought. This may be harder to unravel now, but we will worry about that in good time. Right now we have other things to discuss."
The companions pressed through the wood led by Aragorn. Intuition drove him, and he obediently followed; he had to get them caught up to Jacqueline quickly. Along their way they came across signs of the hobbits and used it as their guiding line to answers and hopefully their friend. Urgency was great, and for Legolas and Boromir the speed was not great enough to match the urgency. Again Boromir was at a disadvantage; Legolas never knew exhaustion and could keep up the chase when Boromir could not. It was pure adrenelin and determination fueling him now and his limits were greatly being tested. Just when he felt he could go no further Aragorn halted them silently.
They had come to a great staircase, perhaps nearly as old as time itself, and a grey-robed figure was climbing them. The staff the person carried moved fluidly like it was part of the being. At the top of the stairs stood Jacqueline.
She looked slightly alarmed, and took no notice of her companions who stood below. The figure just kept climbing towards her, speaking to her about matters that they did not understand. It was not until the sound of Boromir's sword becoming unsheathed did the figure stop and turned around.
"Ah! Well met friends," the figure, who was clearly male, replied. "Shall I come down, or wait for you to come up?"
He didn't wait for an answer and proceeded downwards. Jacqueline, who had finally spotted the others, came down swiftly and soundlessly after him. The figure had to keep his eyes at his feet as he descended so as not to trip on his own robes, and so he did not see the others draw forth their weapons. Jacqueline did see however, and began running down.
"It is Saruman I am sure of it," Gimli murmured, loosening his axe from his belt. "Let us strike now while we can!"
Aragorn was hesitant, unwilling to strike should it turn out that the man was no danger. Legolas had an arrow drawn and notched to his bow, but would not raise it unless Aragorn was sure the figure meant harm. The man came down closer and closer to them, moving quickly despite his robes and evident old age. When he had gotten to tenn steps from the ground he paused, then jumped towards the left onto a nearby rock. The companions at the bottom followed with freed weapons as Jacqueline stopped five steps from where the old man had jumped, and the man threw off his rags. A bright light emitting from him filled the clearing, and for a moment they were blinded. The light soon faded, the man now being revealed. White were his robes, his hair and beard white and soft like new fallen snow. None could say anything except for Legolas, whose voice only spoke one word.
"Mithrandir!"
A/N: After three days of unpacking, laundry and LOADS of sleep, chapter 18 is finally here. I didn't realize how exhausted I had gotten from that week until I came home. Anyway here's the chapter in its entirety. Enjoy.
Chapter 18 - A Kindred Soul Returns
Jacqueline sat huddled in her cloak watching dawn coming upon them. Images of her father still lingered in her mind, and she closed her eyes against them. It was hard for her to understand how she could be the goodness that defies Mordor when such evilness coarsed through her blood. The others began to stir near her, and Jacqueline opened her eyes though not saying a word. They managed a small sort of breakfast without conversation until Boromir spoke.
"Jacqueline, about last night," he began, speaking the thoughts of the other three sitting nearby.
"Boromir, I know what it is you would ask," Jacqueline turned to him. "And in all honesty I cannot bring myself to speak of it."
"I think it might be for the best Jacqueline," Aragorn suggested gently, cleaning his knife. "It may bring some comfort to you in one way or another."
"Please Jacqueline," Gimli urged. "We wish to help."
She hesitated, and Legolas interlaced his slender fingers within her own in silent encouragement, giving her the final push to draw strength from their actions. "My.my episode last night...I.I had a terrible dream."
She stopped, the horrid images flooding back to her mind. Legolas gently squeezed her hand, Gimli nodded for her to continue, and Aragorn and Boromir barely held their eager persistence down.
"I saw...I saw some of what happened to my mother," she continued, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. "It was not the orc dens I saw."
"Where was it?" Aragorn pressed spontaneously. It went unnoticed.
"She was immediately taken near Mordor; the screams were proof enough. Locked her in Minas Morgul and." she bit her lower lip to stop the sobs. Over and over again the story rewound and started again, being nearly as agonizing as the torture administered to Celebrian. Again she closed her eyes against it, but after a few moments she was unable to stand it. Hastily she got up and left them in a sort of attempt to banish the anguish. They watched her go, and Boromir and Legolas nearly followed.
"No. Stay," Aragorn ordered. "Hide all evidence that we have been here. I will speak to her."
Reluctantly they listened, and began hiding their camp. Jacqueline had stopped at the eaves of Fangorn, leaning against a proud oak. She had covered her eyes with her forearm to prevent tears but to no avail, and the elbow that supported her grinded against the oak. Aragorn approached her with elven-like silence.
"Jacqueline, forgive me. I had not known that such anguish might lie in your dreams," he began, placing a hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head so that her mouth was covered, but did not face him.
"I just do not understand them. Why am I seeing the things I am seeing?" she asked, turning to face him.
He rubbed her shoulder gently, desperately trying to soothe her. "If I knew any comforting words that would help, I would say them Jacqueline. But unfortunately, I am no Gandalf."
She nodded, roughly wiping away her tears like a shameful child. "I know you would Estel, and for that I am grateful." She paused, and gazed into the thickets of Fangorn. "But I tell you now to not concern yourself with my troubles, for they seem to be mine for the dealing."
He shook his head in soft protest and went to speak, but she held up a hand to silence him. "Estel, your troubles and worries are already great without my own added. There are great expectations weighing on you, and great things lie in waiting. I know you and the rest of our Company have sworn to aid me, and I will allow it if and only if the journey allows it."
Aragorn nodded sadly in understanding, knowing that he would not be able to dispute her wishes. He turned back to the others, who had hid their camp well and were now searching about. He was about to go join them when something caught his eyes. He turned to Jacqueline.
"Go on Estel, reassemble the company," she answered, nodding in the direction he had last looked. "I will go on ahead into Fangorn."
"Bur you are half-elven, and have left not a footprint in all our travels. How must I find you?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"You will know the path Estel," she reassured, trying to smile through her sadness. "Trust yourself."
He nodded and walked off, calling the others to him. Jacqueline watched him go and sighed; though she had told him and the others much and shared what she had learned, there was one thing she kept to herself: - that eventually she would leave all of them and go to Mordor. Alone.
Boromir and Legolas walked about the area in hopes of finding some sign of the hobbits; Gimli was doing likewise some distance to their right. They moved slow so as to not miss any slight detail. For the most part no words were spoken, until Legolas felt the need to break the silence.
"Do you think we shall find any sign of the hobbits here?" he asked idly, his sharp eyes focused.
"If we do it will surely be a miracle," Boromir answered, assessing carefully. "I am sure Jacqueline has been right most of our journey, but I am still in need of a sign that our friends did not perish with the orcs."
"What makes you speak such words?" the Elf questioned.
Boromir stopped a moment, thinking he had found something, and Legolas paused as well. It turned out to be nothing, and Boromir stood up as they continued on.
"Her dreams," he answered. "I fear they may be giving her false assurances. Whatever her father is, he is surely evil and seems to be influencing her for the worst."
"I had not thought of that," Legolas admitted. "But I am sure even one such as her would know the difference. The Lord and Lady's wisdom seems to flow through her."
"That is true Legolas; her elvish heritage does flow strong," Boromir agreed. "And yet I still wonder."
Silence settled between them, and they began to run out of places to search. A question began preying on Boromir's mind, a question so persistent it burned both his mind and his heart with curious desperation. They as he might, he could not purge it from himself silently. Giving up the struggle he let the words slip from his lips.
"Legolas, why did you kiss Jacqueline three nights ago?"
The Elf looked at him in shock, and stopped dead in his tracks. Boromir's breath caught in his throat, taking Legolas' reaction as a sign that he was being threatened. It couldn't have been farther from that; Boromir was merely curious about Legolas' feelings toward Jacqueline, and if they were similar to his own.
Legolas sighed and looked away a moment, gathering his thoughts. At last he turned and faced the man.
"In truth Boromir, I know not why I did it. Only that I had to. She has sparked something in me, some strange feeling I have never felt before. I am not yet sure if I may call it love, but I know it is greater than friendship."
"How long have you felt this way?" Boromir enquired.
"Since we ventured forth from Rivendell," Legolas shrugged. He then raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Boromir looked down. "Because I feel much like you Legolas."
Legolas nodded thoughtfully; he had suspected as much. His feelings towards Jacqueline had become more evident these past few days, carefully showing on his noble face. But pride still flowed through the man, and he was always showing as little as possible. Legolas, on the other hand, was open; he let show what he was feeling regardless of what it was. The only pride he bore was the proud modesty of his abilities. He let out a soft chuckle.
"Legolas? What is so funny?" Boromir asked, looking at him in puzzlement.
"It is strange, is it not?" Legolas countered with a hint of a smile. "A half-elven woman with perhaps the strangest of tales, innocently ensnares a mortal Gondorian warrior and a Sindarin Elf prince. I doubt even she knows the answer to this tale."
"I think it is safe to say she favours you my friend," Boromir replied sadly. The Elf shook his head.
"She is just as confused as we are Boromir," he said assuringly. "But do not let this come between us, for if at the end of the story she finds happiness in you, then all the happier I shall be."
Boromir smiled, grateful that Legolas had not taken offense to the man's words. "As I shall too, should her happiness lie in you."
Aragorn called to all of them suddenly, astonishment and slight excitement laced in his tone. Immediately they ran to where he stood and saw cut ropes, a broken orc knife, a dying mallorn leaf covered in crumbs, many footprints mixed with hoofprints, and one puzzling mystery.
Jacqueline sprinted ahead, praying she was on the right path. Fangorn's ancient patterns were much harder than she had imagined, and the water she heard seemed to come from many directions. There was something in the air which took her breath like a humid day. It was like the very wood was angry and compassionate all at once, as if it knew exactly who she was. Her pace slowed to a standstill and she gazed upwards, questioning the forest silently. No answer was given. Her eyes fell to her surroundings again, and a lapping of water louder than the rest caught her ear. Glancing upwards once more before running to it, her cloak billowing out behind her as her sword bounced against her thigh, she came to two small prints on the bank. She sighed thankfully; she had reached the Entwash. She looked up again, smiling, then spoke to the ancient ears she knew were listening.
"I know completely who I am, but do not be angry with me because I wish no evil upon this wood. Please, I must find my friends, and though my roots lie in Arda, I am still a stranger to it. I must get to Treebeard's Hall; please show me Wellinghall."
As if the wood perceived, and indeed it did, a path opened up to Jacqueline. She knew the way now.
"Diola lleThank you." She replied gratefully, and sped off on her way. The trees rustled contently after her in response.
Four of the Five Hunters stood about, puzzled. The answer to their riddle came in incomplete guesses and provided nothing but barely touchable peace of mind. By the end they had concluded that the hobbits were carried to where the hunters now stood and their feet were bound. The hoofprints and large footprints showed that an orc had carried then, and had been slain by one of the Rohirrim. The mallorn leaf was provided by the hobbits who, hidden by their elven-cloaks, were able to sit and eat the waybread; certainly exhaustion had come upon them. Aragorn's greatest fear lay in the fact that there was no proof of two hobbits even though Jacqueline had said they were both out there. He feared just as she did that her presence may change what she knew.
"Then how did either of the hobbits get a hand free?" Gimli asked.
"I do not know Gimli, nor do I know why they had been carried off. Clearly not to escape; my guess is treachery," Aragorn answered. "For it is now that I am beginning to understand why the foul creatures merely left us behind after grabbing Merry and Pippin. They were ordered to take hobbits alive, which is why us and our camp were not sought. It is likely that a bold orc made the attempt to carry the prisoners to Isengard. That is my story, though others may be forged. Of course, it may not seem much to you without Jacqueline."
"Where has she gone?" the Dwarf asked.
"I let her go ahead into Fangorn alone," the Ranger answered.
"You did what?!" both Legolas and Boromir exclaimed simultaneously. Aragorn nodded, sad but factual.
"But what if she were to become lost, Aragorn?" Legolas asked quietly and calmly. "You have heard her say before she knows not her way around Middle Earth."
"And Fangorn is too vast to search," Boromir agreed. "It is impossible to go searching for both her and our hobbit friends."
"We will just have to trust her," Aragorn replied, turning and heading into the wood.
Jacqueline kept on moving, trusting whatever was guiding her. Perhaps it was the trees she had placed all trust in, or perhaps fate. Or maybe even herself, which seemed most likely. It had just recently occurred to her that she may be doubting herself, that she may be capable of more than she was admitting. Was it possible that Fangorn knew of her doubts, and helped her to see herself for what she really was? Well, she believed it; after all Fangorn was mysterious and not known well, so who knows what it was capable of?
Along the way she came across signs of the hobbits and what she believed to be Treebeard. It made her sigh in relief; nothing had changed so far. When she had put much distance behind her(and some subtle clues should Aragorn's trust slip) she came to Wellinghall, Treebeard's home. The steep stone ledge loomed in front of her, the stairs leading upwards to softer air. Sighing heavily, she cautiously climed the stairs while feeling as though she were being watched or followed. It seemed as though for a time the stairs stretched right on to heaven, butr soon she found its end. The world extended out all around her; she could see the Anduin flowing wild and free in the distance, the Emyn Muil go far and wide, Meduseld a speck on the horizon.
The breeze played with her dark elven-dressed hair as she stood there, wondering what to do next. The rest of her company was probably only halfway to where she stood at best, so going on ahead would be unwise. What to do, what to do.
"Estelwen? Are you up there Estelwen?" a voice called out. It sounded gentle and impatient in the same instant; only one voice ever sounded like that. Jacqueline spun around and gazed down the stairs behind her, where a figure in grey dirty robes stood at its base.
"Ah, there you are," the figure replied, climbing upwards. "I was not sure if you would have gone ahead or stayed out of love for him."
Her brow creased. "How do you know that? I do not even know who he is."
He chuckled as he climbed, leaning on his staff. "You are blind to your own heart, child. It is quite obvious who it is that you love if one looks in the right way. Why can you of all people not see it?"
"I suppose my mind has been concerned with.other things," she answered hesitantly. He paused, and she could see him nod with her elven eyesight.
"Hmm, so he has begun to test you eh? Well, he is moving much quicker than I had thought. This may be harder to unravel now, but we will worry about that in good time. Right now we have other things to discuss."
The companions pressed through the wood led by Aragorn. Intuition drove him, and he obediently followed; he had to get them caught up to Jacqueline quickly. Along their way they came across signs of the hobbits and used it as their guiding line to answers and hopefully their friend. Urgency was great, and for Legolas and Boromir the speed was not great enough to match the urgency. Again Boromir was at a disadvantage; Legolas never knew exhaustion and could keep up the chase when Boromir could not. It was pure adrenelin and determination fueling him now and his limits were greatly being tested. Just when he felt he could go no further Aragorn halted them silently.
They had come to a great staircase, perhaps nearly as old as time itself, and a grey-robed figure was climbing them. The staff the person carried moved fluidly like it was part of the being. At the top of the stairs stood Jacqueline.
She looked slightly alarmed, and took no notice of her companions who stood below. The figure just kept climbing towards her, speaking to her about matters that they did not understand. It was not until the sound of Boromir's sword becoming unsheathed did the figure stop and turned around.
"Ah! Well met friends," the figure, who was clearly male, replied. "Shall I come down, or wait for you to come up?"
He didn't wait for an answer and proceeded downwards. Jacqueline, who had finally spotted the others, came down swiftly and soundlessly after him. The figure had to keep his eyes at his feet as he descended so as not to trip on his own robes, and so he did not see the others draw forth their weapons. Jacqueline did see however, and began running down.
"It is Saruman I am sure of it," Gimli murmured, loosening his axe from his belt. "Let us strike now while we can!"
Aragorn was hesitant, unwilling to strike should it turn out that the man was no danger. Legolas had an arrow drawn and notched to his bow, but would not raise it unless Aragorn was sure the figure meant harm. The man came down closer and closer to them, moving quickly despite his robes and evident old age. When he had gotten to tenn steps from the ground he paused, then jumped towards the left onto a nearby rock. The companions at the bottom followed with freed weapons as Jacqueline stopped five steps from where the old man had jumped, and the man threw off his rags. A bright light emitting from him filled the clearing, and for a moment they were blinded. The light soon faded, the man now being revealed. White were his robes, his hair and beard white and soft like new fallen snow. None could say anything except for Legolas, whose voice only spoke one word.
"Mithrandir!"