Chapter 25: On Their Trail
"Such is the nature of evil…," Ada continued as Legolas held down the bound Orc. "Out there in the vast ignorance of the world it festers and spreads, a shadow that grows in the dark. A sleepless malice as black as the oncoming wall of night. So it ever was, and so will it always be. In time, all foul things come forth."
The Elven Prince pressed his dagger closer to the Orc's throat. "You were hunting a company of thirteen Dwarves. Why?"
Tauriel stood to the side, observing the interrogation with a scowl. The Orc seemed to speak at her when it finally responded. "Not thirteen, not any more. The young one, the black-haired archer, we stuck him with a Morgul shaft." Black-haired archer…. Kili, if his memory served correctly. Yes, Itarille had been particularly infatuated by that one. "The poison's in his blood. He'll be choking on it soon!"
"Answer the question, filth," Tauriel practically growled.
"[I do not answer to dogs, She-Elf]!"
In the blink of an eye, the Captain had her own dagger drawn. "I would not antagonize her," Legolas told the offending Orc. Of course, he was mostly covering up his shock at his friend's anger. Had Tauriel and Itarille grown so close in three weeks that the former felt the need to be furious on his sister's behalf?
"Do you like killing things, Orc?" she continued. "Do you like death? Then allow me to give it to you!" Tauriel rushed forward and-.
"(Enough)!" Ada ordered, halting her. "(Tauriel, leave. Go now)."
The Captain offered one last glare at the Orc (who returned it with a hiss) before sheathing her dagger and straitening. "I'll see to Celandine then." With the mention of that false name, one last spite against the Elvenking, she left, disappearing down the steps and into the halls below.
If Ada had been offended by those words, he did well in hiding it; he turned his attention back to the Orc, his fingers lingering on the hilt of his blade. "I do not care about one dead Dwarf, especially if it still leaves behind a dozen. Answer the question.…You have nothing to fear. Tell us what you know and I will set you free."
The Orc seemed to consider this for a moment, ceasing its struggles for a brief second. "You had orders to kill them; why?" Legolas asked. "What is Thorin Oakenshield to you?"
"The Dwarf runt will NEVER be king!" the Orc shouted, a bout of anger washing over it.
"King? There is no King Under the Mountain, nor will there ever be again. None would dare enter Erebor while that dragon still lives."
"You know nothing! Your world will burn!"
"What are you talking about? Speak!" The Elven Prince prayed that his father wouldn't notice his shaking hand.
"Our time has come again. My master serves the One." The Elvenking froze in his pacing. "Do you understand now? Death is upon you. The flames of war are upon you-!"
A flash of silver and the Orc's head became light in Legolas's hand; the rest of it fell to the ground, violently twitching. "Why did you do that?" he asked Ada as he dropped the head. "You promised to set him free."
"And I did." The Elvenking dug the heel of his boot into the spasming body. "I freed his head from his wretched shoulders."
"There was more the Orc could've told us!"
"There was nothing more it could tell me." With that, he turned down the stairs of the platform, sheathing his sword. But Legolas wasn't done.
"What did it mean by 'the flames of war'?"
"…It means they mean to unleash a weapon so great that it will destroy all before it." The Elven Prince suddenly understood what it meant; dragon fire. "I want the watch doubled at every border, every road, every river; nothing moves that I don't hear of! No one enters this kingdom, and no one leaves it."
Perhaps it was for the best that he was able to catch Itarille before she could leave. However, the knot in his stomach was persistent as he made his way to the gate. The look she had given him when he'd grabbed her wrist, halted her escape, was heartbreaking. It was as if all the attempts to become closer to her over the past month had all but fallen apart. It was just like…. No! He shook those memories away. This was not the time. Legolas straightened his back and took all the emotion from his face as he approached the gate. "(Close the gate)!" he ordered the guard standing there. "(Keep this gate closed by order of the King)!"
"(What about our scout)?"
He stiffened. "(…What about this scout)?"
"(We sent a party to take care of the straggling Orcs. One of them has yet to return)."
"(Which scout)?"
"(I-I'm not sure. It must have been a new recruit; I didn't recognize them)."
"(Describe them)."
"(W-Well, um, I suppose they were shorter than the rest. I can't tell you much else, My Lord. They kept their hood up and didn't speak a word to anyone)."
"Didn't speak… or couldn't?"
"Legolas!" Both Elves present turned sharply to see Tauriel bounding down the steps, a worried expression on her face. She came to a halt in front of them. "She's gone!"
Celandine had to wonder how Mr. Thorin could bear Orcrist's weight so well. The large blade hung heavily at her side, catching her off-balance multiple times as she followed the river. She decided that this wasn't the time for stupid questions like that; what mattered was finding her family. The problem was that she was nearing the mouth of the river and she still couldn't hear their voices, not even Papa's. The Elven girl was going awfully fast, perhaps she passed by them? No, with the time it took for her to sneak out of the Woodland Realm, they would've reached the end of the river. Maybe they'd traveled further inland or to the opposite bank; but then why couldn't she hear them?
Celandine broke through the ferns, stepping out into a rocky shore…and there was the river's mouth. And no Company in sight. Without skipping a beat, she inspected the shore; there were no persons (or barrels) nearby, but there were signs that Papa and the Dwarves had been there. Several footprints were embedded halfway in a muddy park of the bank, scraps of clothing lay drying on the stones, and a fresh splatter of blood baked in the sun (stinking something awful). While kneeling down next to the bloodstains, the Elven girl suddenly thought of Kili; one of the Orcs had shot him at the river gate, hitting him just above the knee. It must've been his blood. That's when she noticed something near the bloodstains, black and glittering in the sun. She picked it up and let out a silent gasp.
Kili's runestone.
If he left it behind, he must've been in worse shape than she feared.
If this confirmed anything, it was that the Company had been here, but where had they gone next. Celandine stood, pocketing the runestone, and looked around. She then noticed the crude dock only a few yards away. How she'd not seen the structure before was a mystery to her, but it got her thinking about what one of the Elves (she believed his name was Galion) had said:
"We send the empty barrels down the river, where a bargeman then takes them to the village of Men to be refilled."
The Dwarves and Papa must've bartered this bargeman for passage to the village. Now that she was actually looking, the Elven girl could see the settlement itself, resting upon the water on the other side of the lake. The Company would likely be staying there at least until Durin's Day, gathering supplies and seeking treatment for Kili. It was quite a distance to the settlement (judging from sight alone), but if she hurried around the lake, she may be able to reach the Company on the morning of Durin's day.
Footsteps. A single, familiar tread, at that. Too light to be anything other than a Hobbit or an Elf and since the only Hobbit in the region would've called out to her, it had to be the latter. And the Elf could only be one of two that she knew would come searching for her by themselves. Sure enough, when she turned around, one hand resting on Orcrist's hilt, her so-called brother was not two yards away, bow drawn.
"I could've been an Orc, you know," Legolas stated, stepping towards her.
His tread was too light for an Orc, she wanted to say. Besides, if he'd been an Orc, she'd most likely be dead by now. Instead, she kept quiet, watching him, waiting for him to make the first move. And make it he did. The Elven Prince let loose the arrow, which Celandine was easily able to dodge. This most likely was a faint, as the second she dodged, a hand went for her wrist; before Legolas had a firm grip on it, Celandine wrenched it free, taking his own wrist and dragging him forward and past her. From there she was able to swing around and take a pair of daggers sheathed behind his head. By the time he turned himself back around, she had both daggers at his throat and a smug look on her face. That look dropped when her brother gave her his own smirk and glanced downward.
He somehow managed to take Orcrist from her and now held the tip of the blade against her chest.
"I don't know what skills you've developed over the course of a few months, but I have been training for more than two thousands years in bow and blade. There are a dozen different ways this battle can go, and I will beat you every single time." There was a pause before Legolas dropped his smirk and backed away. "But I do not wish to fight you. May we call a truce?" He spun the blade and offered her the hilt. The Elven girl was weary, but knew that, in the end, he was right; she hadn't a chance at beating him. So, begrudgingly, she gave him back the daggers and received the sword in turn. The second Orcrist was back in its sheath, Celandine reached into a pouch in her belt and pulled out her journal.
I'm not going back.
"And I'm not leaving you out here to hunt Dwarves all by yourself."
Then it seems we're at an impasse.
"Itarille…come back with me. Father will forgive you, protect you-."
I do not need Thranduil's protection or his forgiveness. What I need is to find my family.
"He IS your family. I'M YOUR FAMILY!"
Then start acting like it!
Legolas seemed to freeze when reading the last sentence, but Celandine didn't stop for him.
My father and I signed a contract with Thorin Oakenshield and his Company. We made a promise to aid them, and I'll be damned if I don't at least try to see it through! I WILL reunite with them and we WILL take back that mountain, and if I cannot get rid of you, you may as well come with me. And only when I've fulfilled my part of the contract, and ONLY THEN, will we continue this "family matter". Am I understood?
The Elven Prince turned away from her, shouting angrily in his native tongue. It took him a moment to regain his composure, but he still had a hint of a glare when he faced her again. "…You won't just give this up, will you?" The only answer he got was a squint. "You know what? Fine, FINE! You win! We'll find your precious Dwarves and continue this conversation later." Celandine gave him a small smile and his own face lightened a bit. "Do you even know where you're going?"
The Elven girl pointed to the settlement across the lake. "Esgaroth? That's at least a two day journey on foot, longer with the Orcs likely still prowling the shore and we don't have a boat. If your Company needs to arrive at the Mountain by Durin's Day, then they'll be long gone by the time we reach the town."
So in order to take back Erebor, they'd need to leave her behind?…So be it then. Esgaroth was at least a place to recuperate before rejoining the others. With a destination set, Celandine strode off, searching for a way to cross the river.
It had long been dark when the Elves finally stopped for the night. Legolas insisted they not make a fire, as the Orcs may spot them off-guard. This left Celandine freezing in the late autumn gale, huddled in a tight ball against a tall pine. It was the cold air that made her long for her blue shawl, along with her other belongings, but those were gone; the only thing she'd managed to smuggle out of the Woodland Realm that wasn't a weapon was her journal and pencil.
Of course, this also meant that she was left starving. The loud growl of her stomach reminded her of the fact she hadn't brought any food with her.
"Here." The Elven girl uncurled slightly when she heard Legolas's voice. The first thing she saw was a…green square? She reached out for the offered object and found it was wrapped in a large leaf. Inside was a square of flattened bread (which looked more like a cracker than actual bread). Celandine broke off a corner and took a bite; the bread tasted rather salty, but still fairly good considering she never liked salty foods. She went to take another bite but was surprised to find that she felt instantly full. She looked over at her companion, greatly confused. He gave her a smile in turn as he tore off a corner of his own bread. "It's lembas, Elven way bread. One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grow man."
She nodded her understanding, wrapping up the rest of her meal and making a mental note to save some of the lembas for Papa (to test the bread out on a Hobbit's legendary appetite). An awkward silence soon followed after that, which was understandable; earlier that day they were at each other's throats and even before things had been tense between the supposed siblings. What does one even say to a brother you never knew you had until a month ago?
"You know," Legolas broke the silence. "I'm a bit curious as to why a Dwarf raised and Elf."
The statement was confusing to say the least.
What do you mean?
"Dwarves aren't exactly privy to be in the presence of Elves, let alone feel obligated to adopt them."
The Elven girl realized what Legolas's confusion was about.
Papa isn't a Dwarf. I only met Thorin and his Company a few months ago. No, my father us a Hobbit.
"A…Hobbit?"
Yep! Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.
"…What is a 'Hobbit'?"
Oh. OH.
Celandine had grown up around Hobbits her entire life, and she'd just assumed that everyone knew what they were. Then again, being a prince that rarely left the borders of Mirkwood, it wasn't too surprising that he didn't know of them (he even misspoke the word, pronouncing the first syllable like one would say 'hobo'). It took a while to find a way to describe them accurately, but she eventually handed her journal to the Elven Prince, her response taking up a whole page.
Appearance wise, Hobbits have the stature of Dwarves, a few of the fair features of Elves, and large, hairy feet all of their own. Their faces, as a rule, are good natured rather than beautiful; broad, bright-eyed, and pink-cheeked. They've dwelt in the four farthings of the Shire for many hundreds of years, quite content to ignore and be ignored by the world of the Big Folk. It isn't quite a surprise that you haven't heard of them, as they aren't renowned as warriors like Dwarves or Men, nor counted among the wise like the Elves. The one thing that would make them truly famous is their appetites; Hobbits have what one would call bottomless pits rather than stomachs, the people able to down rather large quantities in up to seven meals a day. They also find comfort in the brewing and drinking of ales, the smoking of pipe weed, the fashion of brightly colored clothes, small gossip, good tilling earth, and things that grow. However, a Hobbit's true love is for peace and quiet. Things were made to endure in the Shire; change comes slowly there, if it comes at all. Its denizens don't concern themselves with the past and seldom think twice about the future, instead preferring to to live for the present, which, all things considered, isn't entirely a bad thing.
She waited anxiously for him to finish reading, nervous to see how he would react. But then the strangest thing happened; he smiled. Not a smug smirk or a forced look of happiness, but a genuine smile. "They sound like a lovely people to grow up with." He handed the journal back to Celandine, who was trying to figure out whether the tears welling in his eyes were real or not. "Plentiful food, cheery people, peace and quiet…. Perhaps the Shire was better for you than Valinor could've ever been."
Legolas's reaction and the mere mention of Valinor were enough to spark her curiosity. Or, more specifically, a question that had plagued her and Papa for nearly sixteen years now. The Elven girl tapped her companion's shoulder and asked her question.
How did I come to be in the Shire?
There was a pain in his eyes that he barely kept hidden. A silent moment later, he looked away. "A story for another time. Get some sleep." With that, he stood, grabbing his bow as he took the first watch. Celandine, realizing that that was all she'd get out of Legolas for now, curled in on herself again and prepared for a cold night. As she was laying her head down, the Elven girl caught a glimpse of the Lonely Mountain, still a fair distance away but towering over everything, and smiled. Almost there, she thought to herself as she drifted to sleep.
I may be the only one, but lembas bread has always reminded me of a saltine, based on their shape and how filling they both are.
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