Chapter 6
Aragorn looked at over the fields before Lórien and shook his head tiredly at the piles of dead, elves and Orcs all over. Then, stepping back into the tent, he sat down once again at the chair that he had occupied for the entirety of the morning.
They had won the battle, but just barely, and the forces of Dol Guldur were just driven back. However, the man was sure that once they had reinforcements, they would again attack, while the elves were weak, in a day or two. Turning to the cot, he looked at the still figure of his friend. Taking the prince's wrist, he felt his pulse, and was content when he found that it had finally become steady.
Legolas had been in throes between the living and the dead for the past day and night, but the magical healers of Lórien and the hand of Galadriel herself, had brought him back from the very hands of death. Now, with bandages covering his entire torso, he lay in a cot in unconsciousness, his eyes eerily closed.
Aragorn sighed, and brushed a hand over the elf's feverish brow. The Lady of the Light had said that it was just the fires of his own body burning away the evil that had come with the blade of the Orc, and that the fever would break within two days. The man did not doubt the lady, whose extraordinary healing powers surpassed even that of Lord Elrond.
"How is he?" the voice of Haldir came from the opening of the tent. The man nearly jumped a mile, for he had not heard the elf enter. He had been living amongst elves nearly all his life, and still, he could not get over their uncanny way of sneaking up on him.
"Recovering," the man said, going over to the counter to get a wet towel as an excuse for his sudden jumping motion. "His pulse is steady and he will possibly wake within the hour. Give my thanks to the Lady of the Woods."
Haldir smiled, a knowing look in his eyes and bowed, leaving the room. Aragorn laid the towel over his friend's forehead and breathed out a sigh of relief. It seemed that voicing his thoughts had calmed him, and now, he actually believed that his friend would survive this ordeal. Now explaining to Thranduil's quick temper may be the only problem…
* * * *
"Laine," Ranien shook the girl's shoulder gently. "Laine, awake!" Though he longed to spend the day with her, even if she was sleeping, he could hear the birds that were brave enough to come this part of the forest singing tentatively in the canopies, and he knew that morning had come.
The girl turned, her hair dragging along his lap, and faced his knees, obviously reluctant to return from her dreams, which undoubtedly, were much more pleasant than the current circumstances. On her side, he could see her womanly curves. Ranien bent over her, then quickly looked away. He was afraid that if kept staring at her beautiful, lithe, agile form, he would do something very bad indeed.
"Awake!" he said to the weapons next to him, and shook the girl's shoulder again.
The girl gave a groan, but her eyelids fluttered open. She rolled back onto her back and stared, very startled, up at Ranien's face. "Where am I?" were the first words out of her mouth, and the elf sighed with relief to hear that her voice was back to its normal, effervescent lilt. Then, she closed her eyes again, and furrowed her brows. "Oh, that's right, Mirkwood forest. For a second I thought I was back in Rivendell again, before the entire War of the Ring…"
Ranien gave her an incredulous look, but his heart gave a huge sigh of relief. "Sorry to disappoint you," he said with the same tone and helped her to sit up.
She stood shakily and looked around wildly, but other than that, she seemed to have recovered her strength. She then stared down at the blood-soaked cloth on her arm, and raised an eyebrow. The elf thought she muttered something about being "worse than she thought," but next he looked, she was looking back at him.
"Oh," Laine said with sarcasm, removing his cloak that was still wrapped around her body. "So you are talking to me again, I see." But the joy that she felt could not be suppressed, as she did not have willpower of the elves and a large grin broke the storm that had gathered across her face. She could smell Ranien's woody scent upon the cloak and her smile grew wider until she looked quite giddy.
"Yes, I am talking to you again," Ranien tried to sound indifferent, but failing. "But that is because I see that it will be the death of both of us if I do not."
"Don't give yourself so much credit, Master Elf," she snorted, threw the cloak back at him, and walked over and picked up her sword bandolier. "Having a bigger head does not make you any more handsome." In truth, she was so glad that the elf was talking to her again, that she did not care why. She was also very reluctant to relinquish the cloak. She began to fasten the bandolier over her chest again, as Ranien got up from his sitting position and began to pull on his quiver.
"If you have already forgotten," he raised an eyebrow, "it was I that brought us this far." He picked up his bow and slung it over his shoulder
Laine gave him a serious smile. "I know," she said quietly. "And I thank you." Ranien held her eyes for a moment, and could not help but grin back when she was so happy.
Thranduil made his army start an hour earlier that morning, before the sun rose. The elves seemed to understand the urgency in their liege's voice, and did not complain or lag, but were marching southwestward at the first call of the horn. The messenger was under the care of the healers and would live, but the king ordered for him to follow later, for he would only hinder their march.
The king pressed even the infantry to run instead of march, which would have been very dangerous if he had been he had been leading an army of men. The path bent to Thranduil's mighty will, and it led them on the shortest way southwest to the Gladden Fields. His son's army had been on horseback, and undoubtedly, were three days' march ahead of them if they did not quicken their pace.
They would not rest that night.
The girl and the elf continued on their travels at a jog that both felt comfortable with. The girl was sure that she could have gone faster if her arm had not been going numb. The cut had torn through muscle and nerve, and though she was sure it would be fine in a few weeks, she had neither the time nor the medicine to heal it now. If they met anything dangerous, she would have to use her other hand.
Ranien was intent upon catching up the king, who was almost a day ahead of them. "He must have learned of the attack upon our section," he told the girl the theories he had come to, "and he knows that Dol Guldur is more powerful than he expected and will hurry to aid Lórien. He may have doubled his pace."
"Wonderful!" Laine grumbled. Elves need no sleep and little sustenance and could march for days without rest if need pressed them. It was practically impossible to catch an elvish army that was aware of its pursuer. The two had no supplies and her stomach was rumbling with hunger, as she had not eaten anything since last night, and she was far from an elf. However, neither of the travelers trusted the sinister-looking red berries that dotted the bushes next to the path. "I'm guessing that we can't rest at all tonight."
"If you feel you need it, just say so," Ranien told her. Laine stuck her tongue out at his back, rubbed her numb arm and jogged on, her sword bouncing on her back. He knew that she was too proud to complain and would die of exhaustion before she opened her mouth, and she knew he knew.
They ran in silence for a while, until Laine could not take the silence anymore. The birds had stopped twittering, and though she never thought this would happen, she missed the surprises of the huge black spiders dropping down haphazardly. Even the wind ceased to blow through the leaves, and an oppressive sense of darkness sat heavy on her shoulders. She was desperate to start a conversation… any type of conversation.
"The other day you asked me who I was interested in," she tried the first topic that came to her mind, caught up with Ranien, and then immediately wished she had not opened her mouth. The night before must have knocked all sense from her head, for she had forgotten that it was a sensitive spot with her friend. She changed right then, "So… er… what about you?"
The expression on Ranien's face told her she could not have hit a more sensitive spot. Before she could apologize and run herself into a tree for her stupidity, the elf said snappishly, "Someone who happens to love the prince of Mirkwood." Laine's mouth dropped and she almost tripped over own feet. Her face grew hot, then cold, and she almost stopped on the spot.
The elf sensed her surprise and took her arm, waiting for an answer. He braced himself, building a quick fortress around his heart, hoping it would not shatter. Laine's face became a quick collection of expressions that showed the emotions racing through her mind, and it was almost comical to watch her twist her face in a rapid succession. "You like…" she asked incredulously, "…Melian?" She looked as if she was about to burst out laughing and sorry for him at the same time. "Sorry. I cannot help you there, Rae."
It was Ranien's turn to stare in surprise. "What? Melian? No!"
"Then another elf-maid in Mirkwood is secretly in love with Legolas? He is a popular fellow, isn't he?"
"Wait, you mean Melian is still in love with the prince?"
Laine stopped and swallowed, realizing her mistake. She had never said she was not to tell Ranien; she had just sworn never to tell what the servant girl had done to Legolas or Thranduil. Rae's inquiring eyes told her that he was truly interested, and she had kept this information silent for so long, she was sure she would burst if she did not say something sooner or later. If anyone, she would tell Ranien.
Ranien seemed to feel the same way, and the girl grimaced as her hand spasmed, wanting blood. "Uh… Ranien? Could you let go of my hand?"
"What? Oh, sorry." The elf realized that he had been gripping the girl's hand so hard, his knuckles were white.
* * * *
The grueling speed of the army did not bother Melian for her heart was not in her legs as she hurried one of the packhorses along. Legolas was first on her mind and the wild beating of her heart was not attributed to her running pace. He could be anywhere on the Gladden Fields, for the messenger had not opened his mouth after losing consciousness, and no one knew exactly what had happened to the king's son. Her instincts told her the worst, but she could not believe that, for she would surely die if she gave it any credit.
And there was Laine…
Melian could not bear to think of the good-natured girl to be dead. It seemed so unlikely because she had been so bright, so full of life, that she could not possibly be lying somewhere in Mirkwood, eyes glazed and staring, immobile and impervious to stimulus.
The servant girl shuddered at the thought and ducked a large spider web with the clumsiness of a human.
* * * *
"You mean she did all of that so the prince would hate her?" Ranien asked with disbelief. The two were jogging again, and Laine had panted Melian's story to the elf as they ran. She envied his ability to keep his stamina, and he talked as if they were sipping tea over a garden of roses, sitting at a table with lacey white tablecloth.
Patches of sunlight streamed through the forest's eaves, and they jogged southwest, the direction that the path led them. No creature dared venture this far south, and all was silent about them. Exotic flowers hung in full bloom, though it was late in spring, as they had never been pollinated, and a heavy perfume of a sickeningly sweet smell hung in the air. With this heavy scent and an empty belly, Laine grew dizzier than ever.
"She was not exactly successful, was she?" the elf seemed to have forgotten all of his past woes and was intent upon this news. He still cared for the prince, who had been like his brother when they were elflings, and the past few days of watching him drink himself away was heart wrenching. He could not blame him if the girl loved him for who he was. "So what are you doing in the middle of all of this?"
The girl wiped a bead of sweat out of her eyes and wished, not for the last time, she had something to tie her hair back. "Me?" she seemed taken aback at Ranien's accusation. "I am only the middleman! I amtrying to get of my friends back together so that they will both stop moping and complaining to me! I am trying to stop Legolas from killing himself, which does not seem possible at the moment." She was panting, and her arm was starting to burn again; she preferred it numb. She gave the elf a dirty look and pressed on, cross that he had asked such a question.
Ranien backed off, and tried to keep his voice casual as he asked, "And you and Legolas are just friends?"
Laine, who was very tired, with her nerves hanging by a thread, interpreted this incorrectly and argued hotly, "No, we are not! He's my best friend, and I do not plan on having my best friend kill himself!"
The elf let out a sigh inaudible to the human, but he felt his heart unclench and fly free. He wanted to tell her right then, and would have if she had not suddenly tripped over a ring of used firewood.
