WIDS Chapter 21 Arrivals

Legolas and Tinuon were a shadow and a shade as they flowed through the forest. Moving from branch to limb through the upper canopy of the forest, they had been making their way to the first sentry flet on the circuit.

Every now and again, Legolas would pause and lay his hand on the silver bark of a branch, in much the same way as one might lay a hand on a friend's arm in comfort. Tinuon noticed, but didn't say anything. Instead, he took in the concentration in Legolas' face, the darkening of his expression for a few moments after.

It had been a disturbing journey. Although they were high up enough in the canopy for green light to filter down, the shadows were thick and clung, and they were making their way almost directly through the wake of the spiders' exodus. Branches were snapped and bowed, leaves were shredded and flattened, and strands of glue-silk was dangling, here and there, from the trees, or stuck against the trunks and the branches between which they had to pass.

Most alarming was the silence. Usually the forest was alive with sound; birdsong and animal calls and the small, rustling sounds of the unseen creatures that power the engine of organic renewal. But the only bird calls heard were those he and Tinuon used to keep in touch when out of sight, or on approaching a sentry flet.

They had already visited two, and had reports from the alarmed, albeit largely uninjured sentries.

'A great wave of the creatures, rushing down upon us,' the sentries in the first flet in line had said. 'We saw there were too many, and that they were holding to the canopy, so we descended to await their passage. I hope this was well done of us?'

Tinuon had clapped the archer on the shoulder. 'Mellon-nin, they rushed over us, also, and we were hard-pressed. What would it have availed, for you to get killed and so be unable to report to us?'

They had rested an hour and then moved on to the next outpost, arriving late in the afternoon to find three worried sentries, one of whom nursed a broken arm. The tale there was similar; suddenly overwhelmed by the mass migration of the spiders, the sentries had only had time to take cover.

'We're concerned about Golvon and the rest. The trees in that direction are much distressed.'

It was already late and the forest was sinking onto gloom. Tinuon set his pack down and leaned against it with a sigh.

'It'll be full dark anyway by the time we get there; and we will get there, but I must just rest first…'

'We took on the same march of spiders that passed over you here,' Legolas said, feeling a little explanation needed for the sentries were eyeing Tinuon with less respect than was appropriate. 'It was a hard battle, for some of us. And we have walked six hours to get here. But if one of you will lead the way, and my captain permits, I will go.'

'We'll both go,' Tinuon said. 'After we've eaten, we'll both go, Legolas, and one of our friends here with us. Pephennas, you'll do! And we'll see who is freshest when we get there!'

Almost midnight and they were finally within hail of the flet. Tinuon's first owl call went unanswered, and their alarm was growing, when a second call did receive a faint response.

They hastened across to the tree supporting the flet . Tinuon led the way.

'Legolas, hurry!'

Legolas arrived on the flet already unfolding the caul. He tried not to gasp in shock as he saw Tinuon raising the head of an elf. He looked unconscious and in the darkness his skin was far too white. The others on the flet looked in little better condition, and he hastened to help Tinuon.

'Caul won't help here; he's had a sting. All we can do is keep him warm and make sure he drinks plenty; it'll wear off.

'Govon! What happened?' Pephennas asked, kneeling at the side of one of the elves who had been trying to sit up and greet them.

'Queen's guard…' Govon managed. 'No halting them; just stung us…' He reached out a hand. 'Pass the word round…'

Tinuon left Legolas with the unconscious elf and came over.

'Word's been passed, Govon,' he said. 'Everyone's fine. Drink something and then get some rest. We'll stay here with you.' He glanced around the flet. 'Well, some of us will. Pephennas, you head back to your post. I'll send a message with you and one of the others can take word back to Bregon that these three need an escort back to the palace.' He nodded to Legolas. 'We'll be here for the night. The hunting poison wears off quite quickly, but these spiders were moving and protecting their queens. They use something more powerful for that. It takes a while to recover from. Get yourself comfortable.'

First light, Tinuon was up and leaning over the edge of the flet. 'I need to go on. There's another four outposts north of us and they could be in a worse state. I can't leave these three alone and unable to defend themselves, but…'

'It's fine, Captain,' Legolas said. 'I'll stay until someone comes.'

'Assuming Pephennas passes on the word, you should have company by mid-afternoon. You've supplies for five days in the store under the flet and Govon should be able to tell you where the water supplies are if you run out.'

Elrond scanned the lengthy formal missive in front of him. Elegantly scripted, with all appropriate flourishes and curlicues, it was a nightmare of a document and would probably give those reading it headaches for at least a week. Not that he wished such a fate on Arveldir, the advisor to the King of the Woodland Realm, who in all dealings with Elrond and his own advisor had seemed a fair and conscientious person, but he wouldn't have minded in the slightest if the king himself had a groan and a grimace at the letter.

Arwen's obvious delight in being sought by Iauron of Mirkwood had swayed him. He was certain the prince would be a very poor son-in-law, that King Thranduil would hate it, and even doubted the wisdom of encouraging such a farce himself. But if Arwen really wanted this hopelessly unsuitable suitor, well, Elrond had better look as if he was supporting her so that, when Iauron let her down, as he undoubtedly would, she would be able to turn to her father for comfort, rather than blaming him.

And so he had asked Erestor to draft out the formal document suggesting a meeting of the key persons involved to discuss the matter. The difficulty, however, was that he had no wish to travel through Mirkwood and he was fairly certain Thranduil would not appreciate hiking through the crisp air of the mountain passes. Instead, he was suggesting a compromise; that they hold the meeting part way between their two realms, on the broad flood plains either side of Anduin the Great.

The slight matter of the confusion of identities was not covered in the document; instead, Elrond had written a short, but pithy letter expressing his regret that Gaelbainil was not interested in Iauron, as she was enamoured of Belegornor, but his daughter Arwen might be persuaded to meet with the prince as it appeared they had already met. Tempted though he had been to lay the sarcasm on with a trowel, he knew it would be wasted on the king, and while the advisor would understand the meaning, it was not, after all, Arveldir's fault.

Well, the formal document looked fine. He signed with a flourish and was about to seal the letter, also, prior to seeking his lunch when there was a gentle tap at the door.

Elrond could not abide gentle tapping. You either knocked or you didn't. A gentle tap suggested timidity, lack of confidence, and Elrond wanted all his household to be confident around him.

'Yes, come in!' he called out. 'What is it?'

A woman dressed in the pale green robes of his healer's rooms came in. She had an anxious expression, no doubt made worse by his abruptness. He settled his temper, inclined his head, and tried to smile.

'Healer Feril, can I help you with something? I will be visiting the healing house later today.'

'Your pardon, Lord Elrond. It was thought that this matter should not wait.'

He raised an eyebrow in what he hoped was a friendly, enquiring way and Feril passed him a carefully folded, rather small piece of parchment. His eyebrow arced still higher.

'Since it is addressed to me, I have read it, and in it, my friend Nestoril begs me to place the matter before you as one of some urgency, my lord.'

'This came by hawk? And from Mirkwood?'

Feril nodded. 'A peregrine falcon. It arrived not twenty minutes since and our falconer says the bird needs to be rested before it can return, but that he has a falcon that knows the way and could be sent within the hour, if required.'

Elrond unfolded the parchment with swift fingers and scanned it, his face becoming more serious as he read the message. King Thranduil's second son! How was it he could go years without contact from the Woodland Realm and then two messages arrive within days of each other?

'Have you any experience of this… condition, Feril?'

'No, Lord Elrond, I never have. Other than hearing about the prince's mother, that is.'

'Nor I. We were not consulted at the time. So I shall need to go to my books and see what might be discovered. Most gifts of foresight are not accompanied with such negative symptoms.'

'May I help, my lord?'

'If you wish and your duties permit, yes, I am sure you would be a help to me. Shall we head to the library?'

He came out from his desk and held the door for her, asking the attendant outside to bring lunch for two to the library.

It was going to be a long afternoon.