Chapter nine
Hours later, Halú, Dorán and Benár walked in silence towards the barracks and the meagre accommodations they had been provided with.
Their captain would be well and would soon be moaning to be freed from the constraints of the healing ward. Halú grinned cheekily as Legolas' previous antics came to the fore, remembering the more daring stunts he had pulled with the sole purpose of sleeping in a tree rather than a crisp, clean bed of starched linen.
"Soon we will be away from this place," said Dorán in a tone Benár could not quite place. It had been thankful, yet wistful, sad almost.
"Does that make you happy?" he asked his fellow Silvan.
"I do not know," said Dorán sincerely. "For the treatment we have been given, aye – I would be away at the snap of a finger. Yet there is much to learn here, many to learn from. If only they would climb down from wherever they think they are and treat us as equals. I for one, would be far more receptive."
"You wax wise, Dorán," said Benár with a smirk. "I agree though. They are haughty and prejudiced and it grates on my Silvan nerves I tell you," he said as he raked a hand through his hair, wincing as it snagged on a knot.
"We need a bath," said Halú, inspecting his own filthy hair.
Benár snorted, clearly wondering if they would be left to go about their business and use the Noldors' bathing facilities, and Halú was clearly following his line of thinking.
"If they do not, I will kick them in the…"
"Halú, you animal," drawled Benár as Dorán chuckled.
"Careful though, you might break your foot, these Noldo walk like they have…"
"Dorán!"
The three of them dissolved into laughter, clapping each other upon the shoulders. They had fought well, their captain would be well; everything else, was unimportant.
Moments later, they arrived at the barracks, finding it almost empty. The Silvans thought that perhaps the warriors had been given leave to spend the rest of the day with their families, something they found odd, but what had they not found odd about this place…
Entering their dormitory, Benár stopped dead in his tracks, Dorán and Halú narrowly avoiding walking into his solid back. There, upon their beds, were clean towels and a basket with soaps and glass bottles containing colourful liquids, a comb and even a sponge.
"Let the Balrog roar…" said Halú softly, his mouth hanging open at the gifts that had been laid out, for that was surely what they were.
"Perhaps it is a trap," began Dorán. "We take it and then they accuse us of theft…"
"I do not think so – yet we cannot rule out the possibility," said Halú sagely. "I say we take it and head for the baths. Judging from the silence around here, I do not think we will run into anyone.
And so they agreed, each of them excitedly hitching the baskets on their respective beds, their questing hands sorting through the items within. It was a luxury they were rarely afforded. In the Greenwood these creams and soaps were for lords, princes and kings, not for base warriors like themselves. Legolas, of course, would find a way to keep them in stock whenever he could, but it was never enough.
Steam hid whatever was inside the open-fronted cave where they knew the springs where. They approached slowly, as if they were tracking through the forest. Their feet light upon the loamy ground, their senses on full alert. It remained quiet, but there was definitely a presence inside the vapours, for they could hear breathing – they were not alone, and they clutched at their baskets tighter.
"Careful now," whispered Benár as his head slowly penetrated the wall of steam, followed by Halú and Dorán.
Their eyes bulged in surprise as their bodies followed their heads until they stood stupidly before almost the entirety of the Noldorin patrol they had ridden with.
The dark warriors stood expectantly, as their lieutenant stepped towards them with a faint smile upon his stern features.
"We wished to thank you for your service today. We were witness to the hostile treatment our lieutenant and captain subjected you to upon your arrival, and we are appalled that, at the time, we too, laughed along with the rest. Now, we wish to redeem ourselves for we were wrong."
The three Silvans gaped most inelegantly, until Benár collected himself, enough to speak.
"What – what happened to warrant this – change of opinion?"
Another warrior stepped forward then, speaking for the first time. "You ran into battle with us; your captain relinquished his command to our Lord Glorfindel and deported himself with the utmost merit. He saved our Evenstar, in spite of our disregard of him and his warriors."
"You have earned our respect, and you are most welcome amongst the Noldorin guard," said their leader, and the three Silvans smiled. However, Halú had not quite finished with the talk.
"Lieutenant…"
"Yes?"
"Your lieutenant Galanor - is an ass," he said flatly, daringly as his eyes narrowed. "And your Captain Elhilor is a shit-eating crawler." He had said it with confidence and surety, and of a sudden, the Noldorin patrol dissolved into chuckling and snorting.
The leader, however, stood completely still, his face stony as he watched the maniacal grins upon the three Silvans.
"You will take that back…," he began as he moved towards Halú menacingly, causing Benár and Dorán's hands to stray to their daggers, and Halú raised his chin defiantly.
"…but not today," he smirked finally, extending his forearm which Halú accepted with a resounding clap of his own hands, a somewhat relieved smile on his face, for he had thought the Noldo would swipe him.
"Come, and bathe with your Noldorin brothers then, and tell us how your captain fares…"
In no time, they had stripped and sunk into the warm, therapeutic waters, reverently opening their bottles and wrapped soaps while the Noldo explained to them the ingredients and properties of each gift, to the awe-struck, almost child-like curiosity of the Silvans.
….
Dusk was noisy down at the barracks, and Glorfindel shook his head in false rebuke at his warriors. He had walked into the mess room only to find the off-duty warriors in their cups, with three chestnut haired Silvans in their midst. They laughed and slapped their knees and taught each other bawdy songs, and the whole scene had sent Glorfindel's eyebrows skywards.
He knew what had caused it, and a wave of pride washed over him, for although Galanor and Elhilor were still paying the price for their deeds, these base warriors had shown far more wisdom than they ever would. They had seen through the crust of cultural difference, had gleaned the nature of these, born warriors of the woods, and had accepted them with open arms. It was a promising start to what Thranduil had proposed in his letter to Elrond, one Glorfindel now wondered if it could actually yield its fruits, a thought so distant from his first reaction that it seemed months had passed since they had first read it, and not a simple day.
Passing through Elrond's open door, he sat at the table the lord shared with Erestor.
"How is Taú?" asked Glorfindel, accepting Erestor's offer of wine.
"Screaming for freedom, torturing the healers I wager," drawled Erestor smugly.
Glorfindel's questioning eyes turned to Elrond, who in turn stared at Erestor pensively.
"You are wrong, Erestor, and not for the first time since Thranduil's folk came to us," he said quietly, and Erestor's hand froze half-way towards his mouth, his goblet quite still as his own eyes met his lords'.
"So wise, and yet so unwilling to look," said Elrond with a benevolent smile.
Erestor let out a long breath, completing the interrupted action of sipping his wine.
"Perhaps you are right," he yielded. "Perhaps age turns me overly skeptical," he admitted, and Elrond nodded.
"In fact, this Taú is one of the most obedient patients I have ever treated. He knows what to expect, anticipates what he will be given and what will be asked of him. The implications are, of course, unfortunate. He has seen much hardship from what I can see – his body is testimony to that," he trailed off.
"Thranduil's realm now lies further North than it once did. I wonder if they are being pushed further back, or is it that they are venturing South?" asked Glorfindel, his military mind sorting through the possibilities.
"This meeting that Thranduil proposes, has become a priority for Imladris," said Elrond pensively. "Erestor, we will reply to the king today, and then wait for Taú to recover, before sending them on their way. The coming month will be – interesting. Erestor, you are my chief ambassador, it falls to you to reestablish ties with the wood. Are you up to it?"
Erestor drank once more from his goblet, his jeweled hand caressing the fine carvings around the lip.
"It seems I am in need of enlightenment, my Lord," he began carefully, before smiling widely. "Aye, I am ready for a little adventure, I think, of the intellectual sort, mind," he added, his eyes glinting with excitement for the first time in many years.
Glorfindel, however, moved his eyes back to Elrond, who stared back at him from over the rim of his goblet.
Elrond swallowed noisily, seeming to enjoy for just a little longer, the unspoken plea in his general's eyes.
…..
Haldir sauntered into the healing ward, nodding severely at the healers he passed. They gave him the creeps and for all his bravery, he simply could not look them straight in the eye.
Before long, he found the one he sought, half lying half sitting up in a bed of creamy sheets, with countless pillows stuffed behind him.
He did not look well, but his eyes were alert as a healer finished bandaging his head and then left quietly with a nod at Haldir.
"Haldir!" greeted Taú, and then winced at the pain his voice had caused.
"Taú! 'Tis good to see you – how long has it been, my friend?"
"A century, perhaps – too long."
"Indeed, my archers miss the games you played – you must return, and soonest!"
"If my father allows it. Security has been – challenged of late – we are hard-pressed, indeed I was surprised to be sent on this mission. It must be of some import yet you know he would not tell me until my return. I am blind to his motives," he concluded quietly, "as usual," he added sourly.
"He has his reasons. He is hard on you, this we all know, but there is no prouder father; this too, we know. It ruins his cool façade," snorted the Marchwarden, watching as Legolas, too, smiled knowingly.
"Thank you for not blowing my cover, Haldir. You have cat-like reflexes, my friend."
"Always," he replied in mock conceit. "When will you be returning?" he asked as he placed one foot on the edge of his chair.
"I do not know. I must ask Lord Elrond if he wishes to send a reply; I depend on his decision."
"Well, our mission is complete. We should return within the next two days. It would make sense to travel together until our paths diverge."
"Yes," smiled Legolas. "That would be good – we have much catching up to do!"
Haldir's smile was wide and genuine. He was a severe type of elf – serious and often dour – but when in the presence of Legolas and his warriors, it all fell away and he felt young once more…
