My stories sometimes track Tolkien's version of Middle-earth, sometimes Jackson's.

Thanks to the following reviewers of Episode 9 of "Elf Interludes": leralonde, Ne'ith5, Vanime18431, Foxgurl0000, and CAH. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you unless you have disabled the private messaging feature.

This chapter may incorporate incidents and/or quotations from the book and/or movie versions of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. The chapter may also draw upon posthumous publications edited by Christopher Tolkien, such as The Silmarillion.

The episode in which Saruman tries to drown Legolas is found in the story "The Grief of Gandalf the Grey."

Beta Reader: Dragonfly is the beta reader for Parallel Quest, but shorter pieces are posted without a reader. If you catch any errors, please let me know.

Vocabulary

Bagronk—Dung-pit (Black Speech)

Búbhosh—Pig-guts (Black Speech)

Glog—Filth (Black Speech)

ion-nín—my son (Sindarin)

Pushdug—Stinking (Black Speech)

Snaga—Slave (Black Speech)

Episode 10: The Arrogance of Power

"Legolas?"

"I am here, Estel."

Reassured, Aragorn closed his eyes and let his head fall back upon Legolas's rolled-up cloak, which had been pressed into service as a pillow. Legolas wished he could light a fire so that he could examine the young Man's wounded leg, but he feared bringing Orcs down upon them. With no moon and the stars obscured by clouds, not even Legolas could see clearly enough to do more than he had already done. He had carefully cleaned and bandaged the wound; now he could only hope that it was neither poisoned nor infected. One good sign: the leg was cool to the touch. Nor did Legolas smell the odor of putrefaction.

Suddenly Legolas tensed and reached for his knife. Someone or something was near.

"Fine way to greet a friend," came a familiar voice.

"Glorfindel," Legolas exhaled. "I had hoped you would come looking for us."

The balrog-slayer crouched beside Aragorn and touched the back of his hand to the young Man's forehead.

"No fever."

The balrog-slayer felt the side of Aragorn's throat, near where the neck meets the jaw.

"Steady pulse."

"You are as laconic as a Ranger," observed Legolas.

"I should be. I have spent enough time in their company," returned Glorfindel. He shook Aragorn's shoulder.

"What are you doing? He has only just now fallen soundly asleep."

"A company of Orcs is following your trail. I had to make shift to get ahead of them. Between the two of us, we must contrive to bring Estel to a place of safety."

In spite of his injury, Aragorn became alert almost at once, which bespoke his training at the hands both of Glorfindel and of Halbarad, the Dúnadan's kinsman.

"What is afoot?" whispered the young Man.

"Orcs are afoot," replied Glorfindel. "And now you will be. Up with you, Estel."

Without a word of complaint, Aragorn allowed Glorfindel and Legolas to help him to stand, although he could not suppress a wince as he tried to put a little weight on his injured leg.

"I wish we had our horses," Legolas said longingly.

"Men have a proverb," Glorfindel answered. "If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. But you know we could not have taken our horses into this dense forest."

"Glorfindel," Aragorn interrupted. "Even if you and Legolas support me as I walk, I shall not be able to move swiftly enough to outpace a band of Orcs following a blood trail. I cannot believe you plan that we should outrun them—outlimp them, I mean."

"Estel speaks the truth," Legolas agreed. "We cannot escape by speed; we must rely on cleverness."

"Yes, you and Estel are correct," conceded Glorfindel. "The best strategy would be to throw them off Estel's trail. Very well: I shall backtrack and show myself to them. Whilst they pursue me, you two shall make your way to the meadow where we left our horses—then you will have your wish, Legolas!"

Legolas did not altogether agree with this plan. "Glorfindel, you are stronger than I," he pointed out, "but I am swifter than you. Would it not be better if you helped Estel reach the horses whilst I led the Orcs astray?"

Glorfindel hesitated. It went against his instincts to allow the younger Elf to put himself in peril. Yet he could not deny that Legolas's plan was the better one. He nodded.

"Very well, Legolas. You lead the Orcs astray whilst I assist Estel."

The matter settled, Legolas picked up a bloody cloth that he had used to clean Aragorn's wound and tied it around his wrist. Glorfindel nodded approvingly. The Orcs would surely be thrown off Aragorn's trail if they both spotted the alternative 'prey' and smelled its blood. The balrog-slayer put a steadying arm around Aragorn's waist, and the young Man draped his arm across the Elf's shoulder. "Stay well, Legolas," Aragorn called softly as he and Glorfindel disappeared into the forest. With one last glance over his shoulder, Legolas began to run toward the oncoming Orcs.

The young Elf did not have to run far. Very soon Legolas heard the Orcs crashing through the forest, and Legolas shuddered at the thought of what might have happened had they overtaken Estel and him. The Elf could have climbed a tree and so escaped, but that would not have been possible for Estel, weakened as he was by the injury to his leg.

But Aragorn was not with him now, so Legolas swung into a tree, careful to choose one whose limbs were near enough to another tree so that he might escape when the Orcs swarmed about its base. Then he drew an arrow, nocked it, and waited until the last Orc in the column was passing beneath the tree. Firing straight down, he pierced the top of the Orc's skull. The creature fell forward without uttering a sound, but his body smashed into the back of the Orc in front of him. His erstwhile comrade spun about, snarling, scimitar in hand, but then stopped, puzzled.

"Búbhosh," he bellowed, "Glog has got an arrow in the top of his head."

The column broke, and the Orcs clustered around Glob, elbowing one another to get a better view. Chief among the rout was Búbhosh. Apparently he had not risen to that height on account of cleverness.

"Somebody hereabouts musta shot straight up," he said sagely. "Arrow went straight up it, it did, and came straight down, and there's an end of Glog."

"If it went straight up and came straight down," said one of his subalterns, apparently a little cleverer than his chief, "then he what shot it oughter be standing right here—and I don't see 'im."

"You questioning me, Bagronk?" snarled Búbhosh.

"No, nope, not no way, no how," protested Bagronk, backing up hastily and putting another Orc between himself and his master.

While this exchange had been taking place, another Orc had been sniffing the air. Búbhosh suddenly noticed. "What are you about, Pushdug?" he demanded.

Pushdug licked his lips. "Blood," he gloated. "I smell blood."

Búbhosh swiveled his head from side to side. "Where?" he demanded eagerly.

Pushdug looked up—and was rewarded with an arrow through the eye. Legolas got off one more shot before he lightly ran along a branch and leaped from his tree to the adjacent one. Bagronk seemed the cleverest of the lot, so Legolas aimed at him, shooting him through the throat as he had gaped up at the Elf's hiding place.

"Climb that tree," ordered Búbhosh, pointing, of course, at the wrong tree. The Orcs milled around the base of the tree, no one willing to commence the climb. Búbhosh menaced one with his scimitar. "You, Snaga, up that tree, or I'll shove this blade up your—"

Snaga began climbing before Búbhosh had an opportunity to complete the threat, let alone act upon it.

Legolas allowed Snaga to scramble halfway up the tree before he felled him with an arrow through the side of the head. The Orc plummeted like a boulder onto the goblins clustered beneath him, and several of his fellows were knocked halfway into next week, as Men are wont to say. The others began to argue as to the direction of the shot. "The arrow's sticking out of the right side of his head. Shot came from the right," said one.

"Your right or his right?" asked another.

"My right."

"Then it was his left. Arrow came from the left."

"No, our right."

"His left."

"Right."

"Left."

"Shaddup!" snarled Búbosh. "Lean 'im up against the tree. No, with his face to the tree! Right. The arrow came from his left."

"The arrow came from the right but then the left?"

"No, the arrow came from the left."

"But you said 'right', then 'left'.

"I meant you was leaning 'im up right. The arrow came from the left."

While this discussion was taking place, Legolas quietly slipped back into the original tree, where he crouched silently until the Orcs had moved off to the left and their heavy footfalls could no longer be heard. Then he descended to the ground. Before he could take a step, however, he sensed a presence. Swiftly he nocked an arrow and drew his bowstring taut.

"Will you always greet me in this fashion?" came a dry voice.

"Glorfindel!" Legolas cried, lowering his bow at once. "Is Estel safe?"

"He is horsed and cantering toward Rivendell as we speak." Glorfindel glanced about. "Four arrows, four Orcs," he said approvingly. "And the others?"

"They are left," grinned Legolas.

"Yes, I know they are left. Shall we take them on, or shall we return to Rivendell and send a patrol after them?"

"A score remain," Legolas said. "We could pick them off, but I deem it would be safer—and therefore wiser—to send a larger force against them than we two."

Glorfindel nodded approvingly. "You have learned from your first encounter from the Orcs—for am I correct in surmising that you and Estel did try to take them on?"

Legolas nodded, shamefaced. He did not mention that it had been Aragorn's idea, for that would sound as if he were trying to lay blame. After all, even though it had been the young Man's idea, he, the Elf, was centuries old, with the wisdom attendant upon age, and should have steadfastly gainsaid the notion.

Glorfindel clapped him on the shoulder. "All's well that ends well," he said consolingly. "Now retrieve your arrows and let us be off."

In the end Legolas could recover only two of his arrows, for the ones in Glog and Snaga's heads could not have been drawn without hacking at the skulls, and Elves do not mutilate the corpses of even their worst enemies.

After Legolas retrieved the two missiles, he and Glorfindel threaded their way through the forest as quickly as they could, making for the meadow where their horses awaited them. Aragorn was an excellent horseman, and he was in the open, where Orcs could not take him unawares; still, Glorfindel and Legolas were anxious to regain his company. Once they arrived at the meadow and were mounted, they urged their steeds into a gallop, and soon they saw Aragorn in the distance. The human reined in his horse and allowed them to catch up, and the trio proceeded at a gentle pace for several hours. As they rode, they discussed the Orcs that Legolas and Aragorn had stumbled upon.

"They were larger than the Orcs that lurk in the crevasses of the Misty Mountains," Legolas observed. "Yet they were clad like those creatures, and spoke with their accents."

"Do you suppose," Aragorn asked, "that they could have arisen from an admixture of two breeds?

"Or perhaps," Glorfindel said thoughtfully, "they represent a mingling of two races—Trolls and Goblins, or Goblins and Men. Such unions are known to have taken place from time to time."

"But never has an entire company of such been encountered," Legolas pointed out. "The sporadic matings of the past cannot account for such an occurrence."

"You think they have been bred purposefully?" Aragorn said.

"Aye, I do."

"No doubt Sauron is behind this new devilry," said Glorfindel.

"The Dark Lord has but newly reestablished himself in Barad-dûr," observed Legolas, "and we have seen no sign that he is yet able to project his power beyond the borders of that land. We must look for an explanation nearer to hand."

Glorfindel frowned. "I know what you are going to say: that Saruman has contrived to manufacture these creatures. Why, Legolas, do you persist in blaming Saruman for all the evils in this land?"

"I have cause to know his wickedness. Or have you forgotten that he tried to drown me?"

"You have no proof of that, Legolas, and there is that which speaks against your belief in his culpability. Consider! Saruman did not push you into the Isen. A rock shifted beneath your feet, and you toppled in."

"Glorfindel, he led me to a place where he knew the footing was treacherous."

"Ion-nín, I share your dislike for Saruman, but I must point out to you that you have often enough led yourself into places where the footing was treacherous. I do not believe you evil on that account—merely heedless."

"Was Saruman heedless, then?" Aragorn broke in. "He is an Istar. I would have thought him proof against heedlessness."

Glorfindel sighed. "The Maiar are lesser Ainur. We all know Mithrandir can be snappish and irascible; why cannot Saruman have his flaws?"

"Irascibility is not on the same order as heedlessness," Legolas argued, "for heedlessness bespeaks a lack of judgment, and judgment is a quality that by his very nature an Istar must possess. Saruman will be considered in his actions because he cannot be but otherwise. Therefore it cannot have heedlessness that led Saruman to place me in danger."

"If Saruman is considered in his actions," returned Glorfindel, "that is as much to say that he is wise—and in his wisdom why would he perform such an evil act as to attempt the life of an elfling who had done him no harm?"

"He may have held it wisdom to have done so," replied Legolas. "I had thwarted him on several occasions. Moreover, one may be considered in one's actions and yet at root be motivated by an evil will—one that desires to dominate everything around it, even something as insignificant as a foundling Elf."

"Glorfindel," Aragorn interjected, "you must admit that a Maia is susceptible of corruption. You yourself once fought such a corrupted being, a Balrog, an Ainu who became servant to Morgoth."

Glorfindel shuddered slightly. "One of the Valaraukar," he said softly. "True, they were once numbered amongst the Ainur but are now creatures of Morgoth. But Estel," he said more loudly, "you can hardly compare Saruman to a Balrog!"

"I can," Legolas interjected. "He is as powerful and deadly as any Valarauko."

"As is Mithrandir," Glorfindel pointed out. "Or do you not believe that Mithrandir is the match for a Balrog?"

Legolas did not answer at first. Was it possible, he wondered, that Mithrandir should ever be bested by one of the Valarauko, who like the wizard was a Maia? He pushed the thought aside. "I am sure that Mithrandir would be the equal of any Balrog," he said firmly.

"Then we are agreed that both Mithrandir and Saruman are as powerful and deadly as any Valarauko. You do not hold that fact against Mithrandir; that being so, you should not hold the selfsame fact against Saruman."

While Legolas and Glorfindel were engaged in this debate, miles away, in Orthanc, Saruman glowered at a band of Orcs that had recently returned from patrol. "Where is Búbhosh?" he demanded of the cowering Orcs. His only answer was groveling, the Orcs throwing themselves at his feet and gibbering.

"Two score and ten I sent out against one Elf; a score return," Saruman raged. "How could you have failed, the odds being so heavily weighted in your favor?"

"The force was twice as strong as we expected. There was two of 'em," whined one of the Orcs.

"Two? Two Elves?"

"No, a human was in it."

"A human! Paugh!" Saruman waved his hand dismissively. "Humans are weak."

"This one warn't," the Orc replied.

Saruman glared furiously at the goblin, who groveled lower than before, if that were possible.

"Out of my sight," the wizard snarled. "You and your fellows are not worthy to be numbered amongst the Uruk-hai. To the pits with you!"

The Orcs shuffled off to toil in the mines that Saruman had begun to secretly construct beneath the tree-dotted surface of Isengard. As for the Istar, angrily he began to turn the pages of a manuscript filled with spells, each heavily annotated with diagrams and marginalia. "I have yet to breed the fighters that I need if I am to destroy Sauron and take my place as the rightful ruler of Middle-earth," he muttered to himself. "But I shall not be thwarted. These first creatures are only essays in the craft of creation, and I shall persevere until I have an army at my command that shall be greater by far than any that Sauron may assemble upon the Dagorlad before the Gates of Mordor."

Saruman's glance strayed to a plinth upon which lay some object covered by a cloth. "If only I knew what He knows," he whispered. He crossed to the plinth. Hesitating a little, at last he laid hold of an end of the cloth and drew it aside, revealing a glossy globe, a dark crystal the size of a Halfling's skull.

And far away, a lidless eye ringed with flame turned its restless gaze toward Isengard.