Chapter Two
The day passed without any sight of the Goblins. The tracks still suggested that the creatures were making for Dimrill Dale. Then, the ground had become hard, and the prints had disappeared, and Legolas had had to rely on smaller, less obvious signs to track his quarry, like an upturned pebble or a broken plant leaf.
He was at present camped beside a small clump of trees (he had checked it thoroughly first, to make sure that there were no Goblins camped in it). Now, Legolas sat by the campfire, listening to the chirping of the crickets and watching a pheasant roast on a spit over the flames.
CRACK! What was that? In one movement, Legolas rose and picked up his two White Knives from where they lay beside him. The noise had come from the trees. Slowly, stealthily, the Elf went to investigate. As he entered the small forest, his keen senses picked up the sound of breathing. Close. Two sets. One was definitely a beast. A beast and its rider. It could be only one thing – the beast: a Warg, and the rider: its master. Legolas couldn't see them, though he could see perfectly well in the dark – they were concealed behind a bushy thicket. The Elf made an estimate of where exactly his enemy was and flung his knives with lightning speed. There were two thumps, a high pitched neigh and a string of furious curses.
What in Middle Earth? Legolas cautiously went around the thicket. The Elf gasped and then began to laugh. Aragorn, pinned to a tree by his cloak, was trying to calm his terrified stallion, Roheryn, given to him by the Lady Arwen. Luckily Legolas had missed the Ranger's horse.
Catching sight of the Elf, Aragorn looked first surprised, and then angry, as he freed himself and handed back the two long White Knives.
"I do believe these are yours. Legolas! What were you playing at?" he demanded.
"I thought you were a Warg – Rider," Legolas muttered, and dug in the leaf-litter with his boot. Suddenly his story sounded very silly.
"Warg – Rider!" Aragorn snorted, "You nearly killed both Roheryn and myself! What do you have to say to that?" He poked the Elf in the chest.
"Sorry," Legolas muttered. The Ranger had good cause to be angry with him. "But what are you doing creeping about in the dark? You snapped a twig. You're not usually that clumsy. I could only hear you – you were behind that thicket and, as I happen to be tracking a party of Moria Goblins, I just assumed you were a Warg – Rider. I'm so glad I was wrong…" Legolas gave Aragorn a lopsided grin.
"Humph!"
"Well, it's really good to see you!" Legolas decided to change the subject.
"And you, my friend!" The two embraced; Aragorn seemed to have forgiven the Elf. "I saw your campfire," the Ranger explained, answering Legolas's previous question, "and decided to investigate. You've made a nice hole in my cloak," he added, sticking his fingers through it.
"Never mind the hole, Aragorn!" Legolas laughed, "There could have been far worse consequences! A hole can be fixed."
"I suppose you're right."
"Why not have something to eat? Legolas asked, "I happen to have a pheasant roasting on the fire at this very moment, and if I don't get back soon, I fear it will be burned."
"Yes please," said Aragorn hungrily, and the three of them, the Ranger leading Roheryn, walked out of the tiny wood and to the campfire.
Aragorn untacked and picketed Roheryn beside Nimros. The white Elf – horse had been tied with a simple halter and line made from hithlain rope. He raised his head briefly and whickered a greeting before going back to his grazing. Roheryn answered him and then lowered his head to eat. Legolas and Aragorn sat down beside the fire, the Ranger with his pack and bedroll. Aragorn opened his pack and removed a small leather pouch containing a needle and a spool of thread. He began to mend the hole in his cloak. Legolas shook his head and smiled to himself, although no doubt he would have been quick to do the same thing should the torn cloak had been his.
"Pheasant's done." Legolas took it off the fire and they ate.
"So tell me," Aragorn said between bites, "why are you after these Goblins?"
Legolas related the tale. When the Elf was finished telling it, Aragorn grunted.
"Well, you can't do it alone. It was rather foolish to set off by yourself, but it's too late now. I, at least, am with you every step of the way. Anyway," he added "hunting the creatures makes for good sport."
"Aye! Thank you Aragorn. Your company – and help, of course – is gladly accepted. We continue the mission at dawn. I only hope we're not too late." His face was grim in the flickering light of the fire, which crackled and snapped and sent orange sparks shooting up into the air.
Aragorn picked up his pack and bedroll and rose. He put them down a good distance from the fire and unrolled the bedroll to reveal a blanket stored within. The Ranger soon bade the Elf goodnight. Legolas returned the courtesy. Aragorn went to bed, leaving his friend sitting alone by the fire, staring into the starry night, his arms around his legs, chin resting on his bent knees.
TBC.