PART I
A RUSTLE
PROLOGUE
A rustle, a stir, an awakening; the sound of distant voices in the background of singing birds and the leaves in the wind; the bright sun casting down its kisses of sunlight from above, only slightly leaking down through the treetops; the loveliest way to begin a morning. Except…
…Voices? A young girl, sleeping by the remains of her firewood and stones after a flame was doused the evening before, stirred at these smallest of sentient sounds and armed herself with a sword laid down by her short, mid-sized frame, made by the most expert of Elvish swordsmiths. Slowly, her feet making no noise on the verdant surface beneath her, she peeked through some forestry, her right hand on the handle of the sword and beheld—hunters. Her muscles relaxed as she breathed relief. Thank goodness they weren't trolls or goblins or some such—a girl of her size is helpless against such creatures.
Who were these people, anyway? Hmm… why can't she place them? One was an Elvish male, and the other was man. They were both armed with bow and arrow and dagger and sword, the former two for game hunting, the latter two in case they were attacked. She shrunk into a bush and watched them as they took careful, firm steps past her.
"Game seems scarce today," said the man.
"Indeed. I cannot tell what the trouble might be," replied the Elf.
"It seems most of the animals are absent. I can only see insects and the occasional bird flying by. What make you of it, Legolas?" Ah, there was a name for her to place them. But was this really—Legolas, son of Thranduil? That must mean…
Legolas stopped walking and looked down, about his feet, and then looked up, toward a place in the leaves and branches where the light shone through. "There is something frightening them off. A troll or two, perhaps?"
"There are caves nearby; perhaps they've come from there."
"It is possible. Perhaps, then, we should head back, to avoid putting my king's life needlessly in danger," Legolas suggested, turning to his friend and looking him in the eye with pleading.
"My king"? Then, the young girl had guessed correctly—Legolas' companion is indeed King Aragorn, son of Arathorn. She carefully slithered out from the bush she took refuge in, making an extra effort not to make any clamor as she continued. But, why wouldn't she want to make any noise? Two iconic heroes of Middle-Earth are within her reach—members of the Fellowship of the Ring, friends to King Elrond, Lady Galadriel, Gandalf the White (formerly the Grey), Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee, conquerors of Saruman's Orc and Uruk-Hai armies, of the One Ring, and of Lord Sauron himself—and she chooses not to make contact with them? Quite strange, don't you, the reader, agree? I certainly do, and I'm the one writing this story. The reason will be revealed as the tale unfolds before you, of course, so be patient, and read on.
King Aragorn bowed his head and laughed, lifting his gaze and eyeing his Elven friend with mischief. "What's a little danger, Legolas?" His hand mechanically drifted to his sword, and the grip he held on his bow tightened.
"It could very well be the difference between life and death, my king," retorted Legolas stubbornly. It would prove he would not easily be persuaded against his firmly established opinion. The two friends engaged in a staring competition, Legolas much more than determined to win. Under the gaze of King Aragorn, however, he would falter in his attempt. Aragorn smiled when Legolas blinked and turned his eyes from his own. "Perhaps a bit of… adventure, is in order?" The King clapped the ranger's shoulder, letting out another laugh, and walking past him in the direction of a dangling vine. "King Aragorn?" Legolas questioned.
"I want to get a better look around," replied the man as he shimmied up the vine. It led about 30 feet up, which was a considerable height above ground, but it was nowhere near the total height of the three he was endeavoring to scale. Legolas quickly and closely followed behind him, but disregarding the vine, and instead using his skills in agility and light-footedness to leap from branch to branch in swoops in the same manner as an acrobat.
Meanwhile, the young girl whom we met earlier was gathering her things from the patch of greenery she claimed as a campsite and was about to move on. I need to get home. Omar… what has happened to him? How could I just leave him like that? She shouldered a backpack and soldiered forward. I'm almost there… I can get help there. But will they even help me? What will Erumeldir say of me? And Neal… and my family. What will they say?
At the top of the tree, Aragorn and Legolas looked out upon the landscape—they could see for miles and miles in every direction. Neither of them dared to look down. Mostly they beheld treetops and small birds, and a flock of eagles zoomed above head, strongly beating their wings as they flew. To the west, they beheld a small group of peaks; they marked where the caves were. "There," said Aragorn, pointing. "That's where the trolls would have come from."
"I am beginning to doubt whether it is really trolls we are dealing with."
"What makes you say that?"
"It's simply an instinct; not any more reliable than a stab in the dark, but it nags at me."
"As they all do. I trust you, Legolas. There is no game to be found presently, so we should go home now. We can find out if there are any trolls around another time. And if your instinct is correct—well, we just have more cause to do so." Legolas soundly agreed, but thought to himself, We didn't have to climb the tree to make that decision. Sometimes the king's wishes confused the old Elf.
And so they began to scale back down the tree. Legolas' agility helped him little in the descent; gravity was a sneaky demon sometimes, and slower, more precise footing was needed so as not to fall into its grasp. As Legolas clasped a branch with his left hand, placing his weight on that side of his body, and reaching down for an aerial root, he noticed something moving steadily up an inclined path half a dozen kilometers or so to the southwest. He lowered his head, craned his neck and squinted at the small figure moving about the forest. As Aragorn lowered himself beside the Elf, Legolas nudged him and directed his sight toward what he had watching. The man looked at Legolas questioningly.
"What is a little girl doing in the woods all alone?" Aragorn voiced the question that materialized in both companions' minds. With haste, they continued their decline down the tree. There was a good chance the girl was lost. Perhaps, she is searching for a companion of hers? thought Legolas in his mind. To him, the girl hardly seemed lost, as she forged through the awaiting terrain that lied ahead.
"Should we go to her?" asked Legolas as Aragorn touched down. The Elf leaped from a branch and landed beside his king. They exchanged glances.
"Well, we couldn't let her go and keep a clear conscience, could we?" Aragorn put two fingers between his lips and whistled, summoning a bodyguard on horseback, armed with sword and switchblade. He nodded to the King, and dismounted his steed, allowing for Aragorn to take his place instead. He smiled at Legolas, who jumped into a nearby tree, and they both started a course to the young maiden.
As thoughts continued to reel through our little travelers' head, she stopped midstep as her ears pricked at the sound of horse hooves crunching leaves beneath their tread. Not hesitating, she ducked in a space between a tree and a bush, out of sight, hoping whoever it was that was approaching would fly by swiftly so she could get on with her journey.
"Where did the girl go?" asked Legolas, nimbly falling from the leaves and landing on the ground, bouncing up from a squat.
"You're asking the wrong man," said Aragorn, looking around. Legolas noticed a movement in the bush and immediately he knew where she was. He slowly stepped toward the leafy plant, and then he caught her gaze as she peeked through the gaps in the bush. He smiled knowingly at her.
"No need to be afraid," said the Elven being, extending a hand of assistance to her. "You are not in any danger. Come; come, now." He gently beckoned her out from her place of hiding, making motions with his hand that signified he wished her to come closer. All the while they retained eye contact, and she slowly emerged from her retreat. Aragorn smiled at this feat.
"Greetings," said the King, raising his hand and bowing his head in her direction.
"Good afternoon, King Aragorn, son of Arathorn," she replied, bowing from the waist at him.
He smiled. "You know of me?"
"Who doesn't, your highness? After all you've done for Middle-Earth. And, this is Legolas, son of Thranduil, Prince of the Wooden Realm and member of the Fellowship of the Ring." She sounded as if she were some history book or encyclopedia. Legolas and Aragorn exchanged glances again.
"Then, who might you be, young lady?" asked the King.
"Natalai, daughter of Quade Gunther of Minas Tirith," said she.