The Trees Remember
Chapter Twenty-Five
"Post-Traumatic"
"Wake-up."
Elrohir retreated from the hand that shook him, burying himself deeper into his sleeping bag. The idea of a double folded blanket suddenly seemed ingenious to him. The intruder into his dreams persisted, shaking him roughly.
"Wake up, Elrohir."
The Elf flipped over, growling and swatting at the bothersome hand.
"You are worse than my mother, Elaneth!"
The elleth smiled sweetly, moving away from the angry Elf. She motioned to the small fire. A cooking spit crossed over the small fire pit and two dead quail lay a few feet away.
"You woke me to pluck feathers?" he asked dryly.
Elaneth nodded.
"Why?"
"I don't like doing it."
Elrohir blanched at the statement. "Unbelievable! You can put an arrow straight through these birds, but you can't pull out the feathers? Typical elleth." He muttered the last sentence while climbing to his feet.
Elaneth straightened. "What did you say?"
The Elf shook his head. "Nothing. Why don't you wake Elladan? He wakes much better than I do."
The younger twin grinned sadistically as Elaneth knelt next to his brother. To his dismay, Elladan bade her good morning and rose quickly.
"Traitor," he murmured.
"You shouldn't argue so loudly. I would have remained asleep. Then you could have had your revenge on Elaneth."
Elladan crouched next to Haldir and inspected his wounds. By the time Elaneth roused Legolas and Sárëawë, Elladan had finished his check up.
"Well?"
The Elf shook his head. "It is healing, but much slower than usual. I do not think we can move today. As much as I wish to leave this place, traveling by car will jostle him too much."
"We have a lot to do today anyhow," Elaneth said. "First, we need to move the car off the road, if it's still there. I would be surprised if another traveler has not already found it. We should also bury the bodies."
After a quick breakfast of quail and dried fruit, the Elves began their duties for the day. It was assumed that Elaneth would remain with Haldir, so the three ellyn and Maia accepted the tasks of burying the dead soldiers and hiding the car. Their first priority was to move the car off the road. Elaneth insisted this was more important than the dead soldiers, as the vehicle was registered in her name. If a warrant for her arrest was issued, their quest was all but hopeless. The Nazi propaganda office would have a field day displaying her photograph in every newspaper, magazine, and transportation office in Occupied Territory.
Sárëawë agreed with her. He wanted to move the car the previous day, but the sons of Elrond had needed him to help with Haldir's surgery. He dangled the keys in the air, smiling impishly at the Elves.
"I don't know how to drive," he laughed. "Don't tell Elaneth."
The Elves climbed into the car, laughing nervously. They hoped the Maia was joking, but when he shifted into reverse instead of first gear, they became very concerned. Luckily, the car was much more comfortable with only four occupants and it was easier to grip the handles.
"We'll hide it across the bridge. That way we'll have an easier time of leaving."
The car lunged forward and died in the middle of the road, but Sárëawë wasn't fazed. He started the car again, this time successfully putting it into first gear. He fiddled with the gearshift, but couldn't find second gear. So they glided across the bridge at a ridiculously low speed. He found that controlling the car was quite a task. At every bump it veered sharply to the right and it took a large portion of his strength to maneuver back onto the road.
With much to do, Sárëawë drove off the bridge into Germany. He scarcely believed the deceased guards were still unnoticed. He counted eight hours since the whole event occurred. It was not a terribly long time span. As far as he knew, the military still functioned in twelve-hour shifts, but a traveler crossing the Swiss-German border had probably reported the lack of guards already.
Like the other side of the lake, foothills lined a good portion of the horizon. Sárëawë eased the car off the road and into the hills. After quite a few jolts and dents in the bumper, the vehicle was safely hidden.
"We have quite a walk back," Legolas said, looking across the lake.
With Elven-sight, he saw the other river bank perfectly. Elaneth was there and she waved to them. She was filling up their water bottles and disposing of the quail bones. They stood on opposite shores, gesturing wildly to each other for a moment. The Elves were asking her if it was safe to walk across the bridge or if they should find another way to cross. Elaneth shook her head, laughing at their humorous pantomimes.
Then the elleth narrowed her eyes, peering into the distance. To her eyes, small specks roved wildly over the flat land on the opposite side of the lake. The Elves and Maia, noticing her concentration, turned to see what drew her attention. A low rumble, undetectable to human ears, echoed through the air. Elaneth sucked in her breath. A convoy of German S.S. trucks were driving towards the border.
"Do not come back!" she called.
Her voice cut through the stillness around the lake. Sárëawë shook his head impatiently, moving towards the car. There was a chance that they could cut off the line of trucks.
"We will not abandon you and Haldir," he answered.
"It is no use, Sárëawë! They are too many and well armed. What we cannot achieve in numbers, I can in stealth. All of Hitler's army could not detect two wood-elves. Take the car and go to Konstanz. It is but three miles from here. Wait for us there. We will come as soon as Haldir can walk."
The ellyn debated amongst themselves. They reluctantly agreed to follow her orders, but only because Sárëawë saw wisdom in the advice. When they looked up again, Elaneth was gone. A blur of gray high in the hills was the only indication of her presence.
When they returned to the car, Sárëawë did not toy with the Elves again. This time he fired up the engine and pulled onto the main road, quickly pushing the car all the way up to third gear. Before they crossed paths with the convoy, he turned sharply onto a side road.
Elaneth scrambled up the last incline of the hill. She ducked inside the cave mouth and quickly placed bushes in front of the entrance, doing her best to ensure that the greenery was arranged in a natural pattern. She unscrewed the cap of the water battle and doused the fire. A cloud of smoke rose from the ashes, leaving a distinctly sulfurous smell in the air. She cursed in frustration at the slowly flowing water. When the smoke finally cleared, she tossed the empty bottle aside and moved for her weapons.
She prayed to Ilúvatar that she would not have to use them. If she counted correctly, the convoy consisted of six armored trucks. That meant between thirty-six and forty-eight German soldiers were coming to scour the foothills. A shudder passed up her spine. That many soldiers sent after six archers could mean only one thing: Alatar had correctly guessed that Elves were the culprits.
The brakes shrieked and gravel groaned under the oversized tires of the trucks. The S.S. soldiers issued from the back of the vehicles with offensive precision, machine guns at the ready. The officer shouted orders to his men in a booming voice that echoed through the hills. He did not care for stealth. He had fifty men searching for six archers.
The elleth knelt at the cave entrance, her sword unsheathed. She heard every movement of the Germans, but she could see nothing. That worried her, but she dared not leave the cave.
Within seconds, the S.S. men were swarming over the foothills, searching for any sign of the assassins. Their heavy boots marked their paths clearly and Elaneth stayed alert to the position of every man. One third of the soldiers remained on the road, probably collecting the corpses of the Swiss and German soldiers and loading them into a truck. A few others were sent to guard the border stations on both sides of the lake. One truck drove away, heading for Bern to inform the Swiss government of the attack on their men. Elaneth counted a total of thirty-three men searching the hills.
The pattern of search they used was the classic model. They spilt up, each man taking a section of the hills. It was a perfect way for the S.S. to operate … if they were searching for other men. Elaneth thanked Ilúvatar for this blessing. Hiding from one or two men was an easy task. As the men neared the cave, the air grew thick with tension. Footsteps filtered through the rocks. The soldiers walked on top of the cave, unaware that their prey was only feet below them.
Elaneth glanced over her shoulder at Haldir. She hoped the Elf did not wake until the search was over. His waking was usually accompanied by groans. Though men's ears were not as sensitive as Elven hearing, these S.S. men were the best trained soldiers in the world. Any sound would betray their position to at least one, if not more, of the men.
To the elleth's surprise, Haldir was alert. His eyes were clouded with pain, and his skin still had a sickly pallor, but he made no sound. Elaneth marveled at his ability to mask his pain and appear in complete control. Upon second thought, she chided herself for second guessing his abilities. He was a seasoned march warden of Lothlórien, not a youngling warrior experiencing his first wound. No doubt, the danger in the air had brought him to consciousness.
When Elaneth turned around, she nearly gasped and scurried backwards. At the last second, she steeled her nerves and froze her movements. Standing in front of the cave mouth was a German soldier. His black boots pointed towards the entrance and his feet were firmly planted on the dusty ground.
Sárëawë glanced in the rearview mirror. A cloud of dust marked the passage of the little cream-colored car. His intention was to drive in a wide square, staying clear of the German border. In an hour they could return to the cave to collect Haldir and Elaneth. He wasn't sure the march warden should be moved so soon, but there was little choice.
The engine of the Cabriolet hummed rhythmically and the scenery flew past in a blur of green and blue. The little French car was well built and made just for the purpose of driving fast. For the first time, the Maia was glad for Elaneth's decision to buy the sporty car.
"Sárëawë!" Elladan yelled, over the rushing wind. "Behind us!"
Sárëawë glanced into the rearview mirror again, and Legolas turned around. The sons of Elrond sat twisted around, pointing at the trail of dust. Two headlights were cutting through the murky brown cloud. The lights sat up high and approached them at an alarming pace. The Maia cursed loudly.
"Buckle your seatbelts!"
The Elves complied and strapped themselves into the car. Just as the last belt snapped into place, the German truck roared out of the dust cloud and slammed into the back of the Cabriolet. The Maia pressed the accelerator to the floor and pushed the car into fourth gear.
"Hold on!"
He swung the car to the left, skidding onto a narrow road that was probably only meant for hikers and bicyclists. The back of the car swung around, whipping the twin Elves back and forth. Sárëawë shifted the car expertly from fourth gear to third and back again. The Elves began to wonder how often the Maia had been chased by military vehicles because he seemed rather adept at outmaneuvering the truck. Sárëawë was expertly utilizing the car's best quality: its size. It could accelerate faster, turn quicker, and stop faster than the German truck.
The truck caught up again, this time bumping the car from the side. Two wheels skidded off the road, momentarily slowing the car, but the Maia did not let up on the accelerator. The truck backed off, falling a good distance behind.
"What are they doing?" Legolas asked skeptically.
"Put up the top!" the Maia yelled.
The sons of Elrond complied quickly, heaving the white soft top from its place behind them. Legolas snapped the latches as soon as the canvas was within reach. The sudden absence of wind left a ringing in the Elves' ears, but the rush of the air was quickly replaced with the ping of bullets ricocheting off the sides of the car.
The Elves ducked low in their seats, and Sárëawë lowered his head as far as he could. Random bullets ripped through the convertible canvas from odd angles. A lucky bullet crashed through the windshield of the car, spraying Sárëawë and Legolas with broken glass. The Maia struggled to control the car, but the high speed of the vehicle was its curse.
The little Cabriolet plunged off the road and down the steep bank of the country road. The descent was slowed as the right side of the car smashed into a sturdy oak tree. The grill and a front wheel flew off the car, smashing the passenger side window and tearing the white canvas top, but the car continued to careen down the hill. The front of the car hit a dip in the hill, flipping the car forward and onto its side.
Finally, the car slid to a halt in the middle of a cow pasture. All around the car, dairy cows chewed on the grass, unaware of the wrecked car. One small calf mooed at the vehicle, but quickly ran away. After that, utter silence filled the valley for thirty seconds.
Then the little cream-colored Cabriolet exploded into a fireball of gasoline.