Chapter Text
Ghost tread carefully through the rocky hills, the edges of his hood pulled far over his head to conceal his face and offer what protection it could from the chill in the night air. The orc pack he was tracking had been blundering their way North for some time. This journey would be their last.
In Minas Tirith he’d the heard men talking of trouble, their worried voices spoke of wagons and peddlers going missing on the roads outside the walls. It hadn’t been hard to pick up the scent of orcs then. And after a hard ride on Nénar they were soon in his sights. Thirteen of them in total, they’d made their way across the Dead Marshes toward Emyn Muil with Ghost hidden from their sight. Once amongst the rocky hills, Ghost planned to pick them off. He’d given them plenty of space the day before, making sure the wind wouldn’t drift his scent towards them. Tucked amongst brush and rocky crests, he waited for the cover of darkness.
The pack had nearly made it to the Anduin before making their camp, Ghost could faintly hear the rush of the water. He turned his face to the sky, checking his direction. The moon was still at his back. Turning to Nénar, he gently stroked the gray horse.
“Stay here and wait for me, my friend.” Nénar gently nudged Ghost’s chest in understanding, her dark eyes watchful. They had traveled together for many years now; Ghost knew the mare understood him.
Ghost let the stars guide his path, the rocky ground dappled in their light. He neared the orc encampment silently. He had just a bit more to go, making sure he remained upwind of them, when he heard the clamoring of steel on steel begin. Perhaps they’ll kill each other for me. Ghost ruminated as he sped up his pace. It wasn’t unusual for orcs to fight amongst themselves, but soon enough, Ghost could hear a very non-orcish voice amongst the fray.
Glancing around a large boulder that sat at the edge of a clearing, Ghost had an unimpeded view of the fight. Six orcs lay slain already, arrows poking out of some while the others’ limbs lay detached in bloody pools. Three currently charged and swung at the man. Ghost watched, stunned, as the man wove his way through the orcs slaying two in quick succession. Before their bodies fell, the third had rushed the man and he barely missed his death. Ghost shook himself, the man was still outnumbered and the remaining five orcs didn’t know of Ghost’s arrival. He could help the bold human and be gone before either party was aware. Ghost quickly nocked and let fly his arrows, felling two orcs on the outer edge of the pack. Another orc fell by an arrow through its eye. In the same moment, the man was down and Ghost’s nose wasn’t just filled with the scent of orc decay and blood but of human blood.
Despite being thrown down hard by the larger orc, the man quickly stumbled up and parried a particularly bold swing before spinning and slashing a dagger through its neck. His sword dragged the ground and Ghost could see his chest heave. Ghost nocked another arrow, ending an orc that had lunged dangerously close to the man. All but one orc remained. The man and the last orc grappled one another, Ghost couldn’t get a clean shot from his angle, the two nearly chest to chest. At last they turned and Ghost launched the last arrow, it flew through the air straight for the orc’s neck. Ghost watched as the man pushed himself back, his own dagger thrust into the orc’s stomach, but not before the orc’s blade swung high and ripped across his chest. The man stumbled further back, gasping in pain and watching the orc fall. His hand clutched to his chest as red spread across his tunic. He must’ve noticed Ghost’s arrow for he looked around quickly but continued to stumble, the tip of his sword dragging the rocky earth. He hit his knees and fell.
For a moment Ghost stood contemplating what to do. The orcs were dead. What was a human to him? Men could be capricious. This one was likely no different than the others he’d encountered. With a sigh, he approached. If the man were indeed dead, he might have something useful on him, one last benefit to give others after killing the orcs.
Ghost knelt silently at the man’s side. He was on his stomach, his face turned away, but the man’s hair was…unusual. Shaved close to the sides, but longer on the top and at the back. It curled and looked silky despite the sweat and blood dampening it. He still breathed as well. His back rose gently, though shallowly. Carefully, Ghost turned the man over. His breath caught as he saw his face. The man was undeniably handsome. Freckles dusted the tops of his cheeks just underneath where his long, brown eyelashes brushed. Ghost looked down to the gash across his chest. It was deep and left untreated would kill him sooner rather than later. He also had a shallow stab wound on his thigh. The man groaned and his eyelids fluttered.
“Shhh, you’ll be alright.” Ghost didn’t know what in the stars prompted him to say that to the very much dying man. But something in his chest gave him pause when he looked at the man.
Ghost didn’t interact with men. Ghost didn’t even often interact with his own kind, the elves. Nor dwarves or any other people. He had his reasons not to. But this man, Ghost thought of the way he had killed the orcs, graceful and deadly. He turned, looking over his shoulder and whistled. Nénar would come quickly. Glancing back when the man groaned again, he caught a glimpse of silver at his neck. Ghost nudged his tunic aside to find a chain of fine silver. He gently pulled the necklace out to find a small pendant hung along it. A white gem shone like starlight at the center, surrounded by floral etchings. It was far too fine a piece for just any regular human. Ghost contemplated the man once more. With his handsome features and skill, perhaps he was a ranger, one of the Dúnedain, though they were few and far between these days.
Ghost looked up as Nénar approached. The horse quickly trotted up to him, ignoring the bodies of the orcs. She snuffled around the fallen man’s hair and nudged his face curiously.
“What do you think, hmm?” Ghost questioned. Nénar seemed to consider the man before turning to her side and waiting. Ghost nodded and sighed. “Could leave him…” He glanced up. Nénar snorted and swished her tail impatiently. Ghost shook his head. Of course she’d disagree.
“Alright then.” Resigned, Ghost lifted the man as gently as he could before getting them both on Nénar.
“As quick as you can, my friend.” He gently held her reins, “Price’ll be able to help him more than I.” With a gentle lurch she took off.
—
Nénar was swift, but the man’s wounds were deep and Lorien was far. Ghost kept him held close to his chest throughout their journey and tried to lessen the jostle from their pace. Despite this, the man groaned and mumbled on occasion. Once even gaining enough lucidity to fight back despite Ghost’s reassurances before falling unconscious once again.
They were close to the boarders of Lorien when Ghost felt the man’s pulse finally begin to stutter out.
“Not now, human,” he growled, gritting his teeth. A few hours more and they’d be with elves who could help. Stars help him. How, over the hours they’d ridden had Ghost become so enamored with the man, he didn’t know, but it seemed he couldn’t give up on the stranger yet.
Ghost watched the man’s fair face, pale in the moonlight. With a heavy sigh he bowed his head and murmured words he hadn’t spoken aloud in an age. He begged the stars it would be enough.