Chapter Thirteen: Under His Protection
The elves rode out early before dawn as the stars still gleamed like tiny white nephredil in the night sky. The pair traveled side by side, but occasionally Legolas would permit his horse to fall back ever so slightly so that he might have the opportunity to look upon his companion unawares. During one of these times, Legolas hid a secret grin as he recalled what had happened earlier this morning when he had woken up next to Thaliniel, her head resting on his shoulder. Her hair had pressed silkily and fragrant against his cheek, and even though he knew he should have woken her at once, a small, selfish part of him stayed his hand from rousing her from where she rested, soft and warm with sleep, curled up next to his side.
Of course, he eventually did wake her, and as much as he delighted in the feel of her next to him, the sight of her scrambling up from the rug red-faced was equally pleasing. Fire circles, indeed! If an early morning snuggle had her face brighter than a beet, then she had no business seeking out fire circles.
"What are you smirking about then?" Thaliniel asked, finally noticing the smug grin on the prince's face. Even in the early darkness before dawn, she could spot those self-satisfied dimples from several feet away.
"I am thinking that once your father hears about you sleeping with the Prince of Mirkwood, he will have to cancel your engagement to Barathion," Legolas teased.
"Oh, but I was overcome by the prince's powerful way with…turkey legs," Thaliniel said and laughed. "I still cannot believe you ate that entire platter full of them."
"I seem to recall that you contributed greatly to their demise as well," Legolas insisted, "and I practically had to fight you for the last one."
Thaliniel narrowed her eyes at him. "And for the last time, I am not engaged to Barathion!" she reminded him. "He would have a fit if he knew I was out on the open road like this, having an adventure—with the prince, no less! His idea of peril is getting caught out in the open rain."
"Or very large owls," snickered the prince.
Neither Thaliniel nor Legolas had any notion, of course, that Barathion had actually heard of their little escapade, and from a source that neither expected.
Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, waited impatiently atop his charger while Beriadan, the Captain of the Royal Guard, had spoken with the overseer of Faendol. Part of Thranduil very much wanted to charge over there right now and take matters into his own hands, but he also knew the value in letting Beriadan handle the questioning. For some reason, people seemed to become intimidated in Thranduil's presence, probably because he was the king and undoubtedly because he had carefully cultivated a fierce reputation for himself. Oh, Thranduil knew he outright scared most folks and that usually came in quite handy, but right now all he felt was annoyance. He drummed his fingers on his leg and then looked sharply at his guard flanking his right side who had begun to whistle. The guard caught his eye and abruptly stopped mid-whistle.
Beriadan returned, eyes gleaming. "Your majesty, if you would walk with me toward the house, I have some very interesting information to share."
Thranduil nodded and dismounted, moving away from the rest of the guards so that he and Beriadan could speak privately. "Tell me, Captain, what you have learned."
"The master of this vineyard, Belchuil, left several days ago for a trading venture during the market days at Estodell. He has two young daughters, and his sister helps with the management of the household. Now, as far as I can understand, a messenger from the palace visited the vineyard arrived two days after Belchuil left."
Thranduil frowned. "A messenger? But the only one who might have visited would be Legolas—oh." Sudden understanding dawned on his face, and he glanced down toward the house where the overseer still waited on the front steps, watching their exchange curiously.
Beriadan leaned in. "The messenger told them that his name was Locien, your highness."
"His horse's name?" Thranduil almost rolled his eyes, but to do so would be most unkingly. His horse's name, indeed.
"However misguided, the prince's actions may have been, he does you credit, King Thranduil."
"Does he?" Thranduil questioned tiredly.
"The youngest daughter disappeared the day before yesterday, and Legolas not only aided in the search of the grounds, according to the overseer, but left with the older daughter in order to search for her." Beriadan informed him, gesturing toward the road leaving the estate.
Thranduil smiled grimly. "He always had a tender heart," he told the Captain. "He would venture into a hailstorm to save a kitten."
Beriadan cut his eyes to the king. "If I may be so bold, sire, he reminds me of you."
Thranduil straightened and laughed, a single note. "No, he has his mother's heart," the king disagreed.
As Thranduil and Beriadan discussed their next move, a young elf rode in from the front gate. He was slim and dressed simply, and his countenance instantly gave away his immediate alarm to see the gathering of guards all lined up.
"Oh, dear Valar!" he exclaimed, pressing a tidy handkerchief to his open mouth. "I feared as much, although some refused to see the inherent danger!"
Now, the Royal Guard's primary task is to see to and ensure the safety of their king, and the single word 'danger' had every single one of them drawing their long swords or pulling their bowstrings to take aim at the new interloper.
The young elf screeched most unfittingly for an elf of his age and gender as he shrank away from their blades. "Please, I beg of you! Do not harm me! I am Barathion, son of Baros, from the next vineyard over." He cowered in his saddle until the guard members, in agreement that he posed no threat, withdrew their weapons.
"You do not have to explain yourselves," he said authoritatively. "I am sure I know why you are here. I fear I almost had a close encounter with one myself."
Thranduil exchanged an amused look with his captain and came forward. "Close encounter with what, may I ask?"
"Giant Owls," the young elf replied in all seriousness.
The king laughed out right, a seldom occurrence in the palace, but he simply could not contain himself. "Did you say..." he chuckled some more at the incredulous look on his stoic captain's face, "giant owls?"
"Yes. I heard first hand from one of the king's messengers of their dangerous presence in the forest. I greatly fear that their migration to the southern border will endanger our harvest. I am most glad that the king has had the foresight to send his guards to dispatch those foul beings from our trees."
"More like fowl beings…" Thranduil heard one of the guards behind him chuckle, and the king decided to lay the issue to rest before this young elf worked himself into a frenzy.
Thranduil lowered his hood and looked at Barathion directly. "I am King Thranduil, and although I appreciate your diligence and concern for my people's safety, I must assure you that there are no wild, giant owls in the woods, nor have there ever been."
Barathion sputtered for a second and then turned a brilliant shade of red before ducking his head before the king and bowing. "Your majesty, forgive me. I was…misinformed."
"If only there were such a creature as giant owls," Beriadan added, not unkindly. "They might eat some of the giant spiders."
"G-g-giant spiders?" stuttered Barathion.
"We are actually here on behalf of the king's son, Prince Legolas," Beriadan said, and looked for the king's silent approval before saying more. "The prince has lent his help to the young ladies of this vineyard. He offered his protection to Lady Thaliniel who needed assistance in finding her younger sister Naryfiel, who has disappeared."
Barathion's head snapped up, his mouth forming a small circle of open disbelief. "But Lady Thaliniel is my intended! She cannot go traipsing off with princes!"
King Thranduil raised a single eyebrow. He did not appreciate where this was heading. And was there no concern for the lost girl, only his potential mate?
Not entirely without common sense, Barathion sensed that displeasing his majesty would prove exceedingly bad—for him. "Well, nothing is official yet," the younger elf explained, "but she will be my betrothed, some day!"
"I assure you, Barathion, son of Baros, that your Thaliniel is in the best of hands with Prince Legolas," Beriadan said comfortingly as the king turned wordlessly and mounted his horse.
"The prince's hands—that's what worries me," Barathion muttered, darkly eyeing the king's guards as they left in a trail of dust down the eastern road.
Legolas and Thaliniel both felt rather relieved when the river road finally dipped and descended down to the actual river, a tributary from the Forest River. Although this tributary was an off-shoot from the main river, Legolas knew that it could still prove rather deep and treacherous if underestimated, and unfortunately, the landing and ferry were no where to be seen.
"Most likely washed out by the storm," Legolas observed and moved closer to the river's edge for a better look. The river had calmed considerably, but the current was still swift.
"Do you think you can cross here?" he asked Thaliniel.
"We can lead the horses across the deepest part," she suggested, "and if it gets too rough, I am a good swimmer, probably a better swimmer than his royal highness here."
Legolas scoffed, but was surprised to see Thaliniel cross her arms defiantly.
"What? I probably am," she said and added with a mischievous grin, "You don't think I used that tree by the window all those times to sneak out to go for midnight strolls, did you?"
Legolas eyed her suspiciously. "So you snuck out to go swimming?"
Thaliniel shrugged her shoulders as if to say 'and why not?' but she watched the prince carefully to gauge his reaction.
The prince eyed her with a certain mixture of disbelief and amusement. "And you went on these midnight swims alone?" He hoped.
"Sometimes," she said coyly, her cheeks heating up at the thought of a midnight swim with Legolas, "but I usually went with Barathion—when we were younger."
Legolas' eyebrows shot up. "Well, well!" he replied. "The more I hear of this Barathion, the more it seems as though you two are meant for each other."
Thaliniel repressed the urge to chuck something, anything, at his head. "You do know that being friends with a person of the opposite sex does not necessarily entail having romantic feelings for that person, right?"
Legolas' elegant reply was a single snort. He dismounted from his horse at the edge of the river bank and then moved to help Thaliniel from her horse, which she did easily with little assistance from him.
"Very well then," Legolas agreed reluctantly. "You go out first, and I'll follow. Be careful." He watched her enter the water with ease, expertly cutting across the current with her horse until he was distracted by the unmistakable sound of an arrow being fitted to a bow.
He hesitated and then slowly turned around to find himself outnumbered by four swarthy men, two of whom he recognized from the bar.
"Elves like you don't just show up at The Lusty Lion unless they're up to something," said the one holding the bow, who was presumably their leader.
"You tell 'em, Birlaf," jeered one of the men.
Only a few yards away, Birlaf trained his arrow directly at the prince. "Whatever your plans are, we wants a share of it."
Legolas cut his eyes toward Thaliniel, now nearing the deepest part of the river. A tiny shiver of fear stirred in his heart as he watched her fight the current. This confrontation had the potential to end very poorly. Legolas spoke quickly, desperately trying to school his expression and tone to be very appeasing, "We would gladly share any fortune with you, except I fear you have been sadly misinformed to our purpose. We have neither spoils nor treasure to offer. "
A second man harrumphed loudly. "What about her? She's spoils enough, I'd reckon."
The elf's face darkened at the spoken threat. "She is under my protection," he warned them.
"She'll be needing much more than just your protection, elf," the same man shot back and pointed to the opposite side of the river. Two more men had appeared on the other side. Thaliniel was trapped.
Legolas let out a disappointed sigh, one that the men heard and mistakenly took for resignation. "Hand over your weapons then, elf."
The prince let his eyes trace Thaliniel's movements in the water one last time and then met the gaze of the men's leader. "I do not believe I shall," Legolas disagreed, now carefully assessing the weapons they each carried.
"Let's kill him and be done with it," one of the bandits growled, and their leader Birlaf seemed to agree. He pulled tight the bowstring and let his arrow fly, directly at the elf's heart. He was a dead man.
At such close range, such a shot should be deadly, but not when considering elven speed and strength, both of which none of these men had ever born witness to before this day. This would be a tale they would grudgingly retell at The Lusty Lion for many years.
The prince dodged the arrow, fluidly arching to the side, and at the last second as the arrow sailed past, he reached out and plucked it from the air.
The other men stared at him, dumb-founded. Did that just really happen? Birlaf, however, only growled and threw down his bow.
"Surrender?" the elf asked as he snapped the arrow in two and tossed it to the side. "Not today." Then he drew his knives, and the real fight began.
Meanwhile Thaliniel had difficulties of her own. One of the bandits had entered the river and headed straight for her. She lightly patted the rump of her horse, telling him to continue across the river. She might not be able to beat this man in a fight, but she was certain she could outswim him. Thaliniel quickly glanced at Legolas to see him fighting off four men; his long knives were a blur of shining white. She hoped he knew what he was doing.
"Come on, she-elf," the man hollered at her. "There's no where you can go."
She took an enormous breath and dove under the water.
Birlaf was a mountain of a man, so much so that Legolas wondered for a moment if he might just be part troll, and his dark eyes burned with pure rage as he drew a heavy sword and spat toward his defiant enemy. The man charged toward Legolas, sword held high, and the prince knew that this man had spilled his fair share of blood. He lashed across the elf's abdomen, from which Legolas deftly stepped out of the way before turning and countering Birlaf's blade as it plunged toward him. Birlaf's style was all ferocity and primal instinct. The man fought like an orc, and as much as Legolas did not want to kill him, he needed to end this fight quickly.
"Stop dancing around, elf, and fight!" the man growled, his mouth contorted into an ugly sneer. "Or are you afraid that I'm going to mess up that pretty face of yours?"
Behind him in the river, Legolas could hear the water thrashing and the men shouting at Thaliniel. Legolas spun away from the latest swoop of Birlaf's sword, and this time he took the offensive and carved his blades in a deadly feint toward the man's chest, and just as the elf knew he would, Birlaf turned away to protect his chest and side, and when he did, for the briefest of seconds, his back was exposed. A split second opening was all the prince needed.
In a brilliant stream of crimson, Legolas sliced across the back of Birlaf's neck where the smallest sliver of skin showed above his leather gherkin. The man toppled over heavily, face first into the dust of the river path, and the other men, cowed by Legolas' defeat of their brawny leader, backed away. None wanted to engage him now, despite the advantage of their numbers.
Then Legolas heard Thaliniel scream, followed by a horrid gurgle.
The two men on the opposite side of the river had converged on Thaliniel. Originally, she had done quite well diving under the water and evading their advances, but now between the two of them and the steady pressing current of the river, they had closed in on her, and a short man with thick, dark hair cuffed her upper arm and began to drag her toward the far bank. Even though she was much taller than he, this particular bandit was much stouter, and despite all her thrashing and splashing, Thaliniel gained little ground. She desperately wanted to cry for Legolas' help, but could see that he was preoccupied fighting a battle of his own.
The shorter man grew tired of Thaliniel's resistance; she had fought him every step. He twisted her arm into a painful triangle. "'Ere now," he crooned. "If ye likes the water so much, then why how 'bout a drink, lovey?" Then he thrust her head beneath the surface of the river and held it there. He would show her who was boss.
Still Thaliniel struggled against his tight hold, but to no avail. Most elves could hold their breath under water for a fairly long time, and she was no exception, but even her endurance began to wane under the man's fierce grasp. His grip was too tight, and agony fired down her arm as if her bones might snap. Just as black dots began to swim before her eyes, her attacker pulled her back up. She gasped and then screamed as loudly as she could before he dunked her head back under the waves once more.
Legolas let the other bandits go the minute he heard Thaliniel scream. Without any thought to them or what they might do, the elf turned and dove into the river. In the two seconds before he hit the water, his worst fears had been confirmed. Two other men had captured Thaliniel and seemed to be taking great delight in drowning her.
The river ran deep and murky enough that Legolas swam unseen to within an arm's reach of the men torturing his friend. He reached out with both hands and jerked hard on the nearest leg, effectively yanking the man beneath the surface with a surprised yelp.
"Cotts!" the other man shouted, releasing Thaliniel from under the water. His companion had just disappeared! Then the river bloomed red, a sickening swirl in the eddying currents, and Cotts' body resurfaced further downstream, face down, unmoving. "Cotts!" the bandit screamed again, backing away toward the riverbank, his face drawn white with disbelief and panic.
"You did this," the man cried out to Thaliniel. "You called some river gods to devour us!" He had almost backed up all the way to the river's edge when Legolas rose from the water behind him and seized him from behind, wrapping one strong forearm around the man's neck in a vice-like headlock.
Legolas dragged him from the water and flung him onto the shore, dripping and fearful. The moment the man tried to rise, the prince shoved him back down into the hard-packed clay, this time kneeling beside him, grabbing a fistful of his collar, forcing him to look into his eyes.
This was no man—surely nothing mortal could be this deadly, this intense. The elf's eyes were liquid blue flames, and Legolas' captive shuddered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold morning air.
"You would attack a woman?" the elf hissed, and without waiting for an answer, he struck the man across the jaw, so hard that the man's head whipped to the side.
"You tried to drown her?" And again, Legolas punched his prisoner, barely registering the faint splatter of blood as his fist broke his nose.
"Never again!" he roared, and his fist flew up ready to strike once more but stilled against a gentle touch to his elbow.
"Legolas."
The prince turned and beheld Thaliniel, dripping wet and meek behind him. Then he turned back to his prisoner, this shivering coward of a man, and he pulled out one of his long white knives with relish and watched his eyes go wide.
"Please—please, no!" the man begged against this formidable creature.
The prince drove the handle of the knife home—and knocked the villain unconscious across the back of his head.
In the next second, he was at Thaliniel's side, and without any thought to propriety, had pulled her into his arms. "By the Valar," he murmured into the tangle of her wet hair, his hands unconsciously running up and down her back, her sides, as if to verify that she was there before him, real and solid, while he collected himself. His breathing slowed and eventually he pulled away enough to look down into her brown eyes. He smiled a little with just the barest hint of those dimples.
"You know, you really might need to look into finding a better protector on this journey, Thaliniel. So far under my care, you have already had to fend off orcs, been in a bar fight, and now almost drowned by bandits."
She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him back toward her, and despite the recent circumstances, smiled into his soaked tunic. "I rather like the one I have right now, thank you very much," she insisted, and in that moment, the two elves were simply content to hold each other in the warmth of the early morning sun.
Thank you for reading! I hope you had as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it! ;)
There's no telling what will happen next! More near death? More romance? More Thranduil? And where exactly are those Rivendell elves with Narylfiel?!
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