CHAPTER 32 - The choices we make
The three travelers were silent as they traversed the winding path leading to the mainland. Kal sat behind Tadion and close to the dwarf, her searching eyes discerning nothing but gloom.
"Why did you choose to come?" she ventured to ask Tadion in the end, the silence altogether bearing too heavily on her shoulders.
For a while Kal heard nothing and was begun to think he would not speak at all.
"He is my brother, and my last surviving kin. Impregnable and reckless though he may be, and changed to the point of being unrecognizable. He is also the most infuriating person I know - aside from you of course," he added wryly. "But he is my brother. And I owe him my life."
Kal had never thought she would feel any amount of consideration for this elf. It was intriguing how quickly one's regard for someone could change.
"Will you take us to where last you saw of him?" she asked, emboldened by this different rapport.
"Precisely. There is where we may, carefully and silently," he said pointedly looking to Gimli, "begin our tracking. I keep to the trees," he then said. "I will be your cover."
And the three companions continued to share of their approach and tactical detail, as well as responsibilities. They were still unsure how to handle the situation of the wound since surely a limping elf was not easy to conceal, and much depended on his condition when they found him. If they found him.
They passed into the woods before daybreak and followed Tadion towards the place of his brother's stand.
As they reached the very spot revealed to them by the elf, her thoughts flew to Legolas in an attempt to renew the intricate pattern of thought which allowed her to feel his presence. It yielded no results, and so morosely her eyes flitted over the space and forest bed under the predawn light. She beheld the familiar, dark stain of spilled blood. Red as well as black adorned the trampled blades of yellowed green. No bodies. Kal heaved a deep sigh, frowning as she looked ahead.
"This way," Tadion whispered after kneeling to inspect signs of passing disturbance left on the land. They followed, Kal closely in her light step while Gimli the dwarf had stayed a ways distance behind, stopping at times to listen and crouch with his bulkier form amid the partial safety of thicket and undergrowth.
"Do you think they went far?" Kal ventured to ask, looking to the terse profile of yet another elf become unlikely collaborator. It bore ironic ties to an all too similar past.
"I do not know, I cannot reach him. I doubt he wishes to be found. Especially not now, and not by me," Tadion finished bitterly.
"I am relieved you did not grant his request," Kal decided to say and though loath to give him any due, gratitude did flare within her for his deed. Or lack thereof. "And grateful," Kal braved, feeling his eyes on her.
Tadion snorted at her words as they fell in step with one another, each careful of any sound or movement to herald approaching peril. "I also praise that particular inability. But first we must find him. And if we do, I suspect we may need to ensure he does not end us himself before aught else."
Kal flashed a swift, crooked smile revealing her fangs to the frowning gaze of Tadion. "Nienna's tears, I will never understand him," Tadion muttered to himself as he set his vision ahead and moved forward, darting into the closest tree.
There grew complete silence between them as they pursued each other, one above and one below, and despite encountering neither foes nor any presence for a while yet, they pressed on.
Where are you? she called to him, using the memory of his touch and the strong stir it caused to fuel her desperate reach. I should like to see you again. I should like you to live.
It came first as a whisper, growing into a shiver, become a great unseen pull which Kal recognized in tune with the weaving of her own life. The elf, the silver-gold beacon she sought was yet on the shores of this world. Kal sought upwards for Tadion. When their eyes locked he stared into hers strangely and looked away, his face contorting as if in grim proof of some hidden knowledge Kal did not perceive. She raised an arm either way, pointing westward. That was the way. It had to be.
The nethers were disarmingly strong in their grip. It was peculiar, how one could breathe without breathing, see without seeing and hurt both inside and out. Then there were whispers and harsh speech, light and dark communing to veil his fevered gaze in shadows.
He saw striking eyes which were his own, boring into him. Bright, demanding and no less proud. His brow was laden with his crown, his posture tall in towering determination. He said nothing, but silently looked to the other. On his arm was one slighter, watching him with boundless adoration. Her green stare showed courage and endurance, though Legolas felt none of it for his own.
"You are not of this world...," he blinked, or thought he did. "Apparition..." he finished weakly, feeling no less empty when the vision deformed and receded into shadows. Ones which grew, ebbed and flowed akin to a dark river drowning him, and then before him was one other. Her raven hair billowed down her shoulders, unbound, shielding her form. She was come from the riverbank, swaying and free in her nakedness as she approached him, and he felt the warmth of her hand on his face.
"You should have let me come," dark red lips spoke, and though he longed to see, to believe it was real, the elf cursed whatever sickened part of his mind was conjuring these delusions.
"No," he told the shadow either way, "I should have been less of a craven. I should have... been honest with myself." And under the burden of his regret he would have reached for her then, but for the impending certainty that this was nothing save a temporary ailment, born of guilt and need.
As sounds around him became louder and more grating, the feel in his nerves and his sense also gradually returned with enhanced swiftness. Her image disappeared, and as his eyes cleared the nethers took form again, this time taking the shape of a grinning, grey head.
The elf swiftly surmised he was hanging upside down once he felt the trying pressure in his temples, his ears. And indeed as he regained gradual awareness of his limbs, along with the searing pain in his leg Legolas felt a thick rope fastened tightly around his ankles. His hands were similarly bound together at his back.
As soon as he could see clearly a wave of sharp pain erupted from his left side, causing his immensely skewed vision to turn formless again.
"He awakens, the tree tosser," said the beast who had struck him, looking to another witnessing the display. That one was human by all accounts, dressed in brown and black leathers, with a heavy whip coiled at his hip, and a black eye patch strung over the left side of his face.
"Beautiful specimen," the human drawled in Westron, long fingers taking the dazed elf by the nape as he hung helplessly in his bonds.
Legolas shuddered at the foreign and detestable touch, drawing away with a snarl in as much as his position allowed.
"We might sell'em to ya, usually we're to send such findings straight to the Tower but yer lucky your business flourishes," the Uruk spit at the man's feet, who served no reaction save for a raised eyebrow and a disgusted crinkle.
But he kept his manner cold and steadied. "I should think the numbers I provided will aid you and your regimen in finding some manner of... entertainment," the man spoke, appraising the silken hair of the murderous elf between his fingers. "And for me it is a great bartering boon. My clients always appreciate such exotic freshness," he grinned in a way which made Legolas burn to cut him in half.
The elf struggled anew, hating himself for not dying and maddened at Tadion for not having done his duty. But then again, did he ever think his end would be much different to this? Legolas could not recall a time he thought otherwise. A time when a mother's green stare warmed two siblings enjoying each other's company in mischief. Days aforetime, when his bond brother was yet the hopeful light of his people. Were they ever strong together.
Legolas shook his head though that led to another bout of nausea, and again he felt the same array of sensations as before his fall. My neck... they afflicted me with some manner of poison. He recalled its numbing effects, the way they brought a sluggishness of movement he did not foresee.
"That sleeper rubbish ya stung him with sure softened him proper. Ya should've heard the nonsense he was mumblin' earlier," the Uruk was saying. "Aye, we sell' em to ya," the beast repeated, eyeing Legolas with a hungry snarl. "But first we see if he tells us of his goals, and whether anyone comes lookin' for him." The Uruk turned his milky gaze towards the black-haired slave trader. "Weed out the rats, y'see."
"I do see," said the caped man with the whip, his gaze boring into the hateful one of Legolas. "I am patient, as you well know Gorgath."
"We'll try not to ruffle him too much for ya. But I promise nothin'," Gorgath growled.
The two plotters then disappeared from his sight, and Legolas discerned it must have been early dawn going by the shade of lighting through the trees.
His mind and body were mostly his own again, but still felt rather dulled and weary. The pain in his leg wound pulsed with constant agony, flaring with the addition of the heavy bonds around his ankles and the weight pulling him downward.
The pressure in his head became unbearable, and the elf found he only stirred again when a rough fall, his own, caused his eyes to fly open and the stinging pain to remind him mercilessly of his injury. His unceremonious fall was met with gurgles of growls and curses, and his eyes refocused on the frightened rictus of a lifeless face.
The woman, the one he and Tadion had wished to spare from the pack, now lay spread across from him; her throat slit so deep from ear to ear she was nearly beheaded.
"Not fast enough," an Uruk whispered ominously somewhere to his left.
Legolas gritted his teeth when he felt a heavy hand in his hair, pulling him roughly upward and forcing him into a seated position.
They questioned and beat him, but he told them nothing, his thought ever turned to those times witnessed during the throes of his delirium. They threatened him with death, and when that did nothing they threatened him with slavery.
"Aye, plenty of those higher placed bastards be lookin' to sink their teeth into some unspoiled elf flesh," they were saying. "Spill yer guts and we might end you before that happens."
Disgusted, Legolas still held firm, refusing to speak nor heed them, no matter their strikes. It was a painful reminder of the first time he had fallen to their hands. Where a young creature unwittingly aided his escape.
Kal... he wondered where she was, hoped she would remain hidden and under the safety of the isle. Now, when nothing else mattered either way, he could admit it. He could consider the truth that while he did wish for her to discover more of herself, his main intent had been for her to find a livable life there, community; and to see another way of existence. He had wanted her to stay. He had selfishly wished to know she was close and safe. And he had selfishly withheld that knowledge from her, against his own words.
His heart thundered wildly and the elf awoke with a start from his pain induced stupor. His brow was bloodied, his cheek gashed from their torment earlier that day. He was strung upside down again. It was late afternoon when Legolas searched the surrounding trees, thinking he had sensed a presence. He sighed and attributed it all to the conjuring of his wearied mind.
Time passed and as night fell over the world the elf struggled again, his eyes on the sentries set on guard. They were large, bulkier specimens of Uruk-hai than he had previously encountered. Then a surge of light filled him to the brim. The elf had little time to acknowledge whose it was before one of the guards crashed to the ground, an arrow embedded into its skull. Then a shadow swiftly pounced on the other with the flash of a blade, and the second guard was felled.
Amber eyes bore into his. "Legolas, can you hear me?"
He blinked. This could not be. "You are... not here..."
Kal worriedly looked him over, hand reaching around his neck. "Oh believe me, elf, I am here well enough," she whispered swiftly. "We have little to no time, quickly."
And with that he felt a tug at the end of the rope, and himself falling roughly to the ground. He barely bit back a whimper of pain at the throbbing mess which was his leg. He rose unsteadily on his arms.
"Can you... can you walk at all?" she was asking, just as he reached for a fistful of her tunic.
"What are you doing here? Are you insane?" but anger was hard to come by.
"Please, elf, you may scowl and admonish me after. Swiftly now," Kal said, her nerves on edge as they all felt the nearness of other foes. She saw him come to his knees, gritting his teeth with the effort.
Before him another dropped from the treetops then, and with increased misery and ire Legolas stared into the eyes of his brother. The same green stare from so long ago.
"Have you lost your wits?" he hissed at them both. "This is more perilous than you think," he rasped. "Slavers... you must head back, now," Legolas insisted as he tried to rise, on arm propped against the tree he had been hanging from.
"Nobody is heading anywhere without you," Kal whispered willfully. "Not again," and her gaze bore meaningfully into his, staying his remark.
Tadion rushed to his aid but his brother impatiently pulled away, managing to rise with the support of the tree trunk and resting his weight on one leg.
Both Kal and Tadion hurried and held him on each side, and they advanced unseen into the trees. Their progress was slow though the wounded elf harnessed all the strength he had left to advance. If they had been foolish enough to come, Legolas thought he might as well do his utmost, since they all shared in the same peril now. But his fury, disappointment and helplessness meshed together, and were mostly directed at himself.
They ceased when they reached Gimli. "I could not have left them to fend on their own," the dwarf offered in understanding, sensing what plagued the other.
Legolas merely nodded as Tadion steadily helped him down. Gimli then produced two flat wooden splints and a piece of cloth from a satchel. Kal knelt and proceeded to wrap over his wound with the cloth while Tadion and the dwarf stood watch.
"Hurry, orcling," Tadion murmured. "I sense an approach."
Her hands were shaking, having never done such a thing before. She took the splints and looked at him. It lasted only for a flicker of space and time, but what Kal saw in those eyes made her swallow the thickness clutching at her throat and her heart to still. Worry, care, regret and discontent... need, wrath, worry.
"Reckless," was all Legolas said to her.
"Maybe so." She broke their gaze and looked back to her hands, wrapping the stilts in place with a deftness she never suspected of herself. "But I made a choice."
"Why."
"You know why," Kal hissed without thought as she worked. "There," she said when done, unable to meet his stare again.
Tadion rushed to aid them and soon they were on their way again, each supporting the fair-haired elf on either side.
Their sparse group made little progress before both able elves stilled in dread.
"Look what we have 'ere," the approaching Uruk grinned. "A rescue party! How utterly quaint and no less daft," they brandished their scimitars.
Kal looked to Tadion, who nodded. She removed herself from Legolas and unsheathed her sword. She lunged at them as they grinned, avoiding their swipes with the fast footed grace of elves but swinging her sword with the brunt force of orc kind.
"Stand still!" one snarled even as Kal tilted above his head, arms resting on his shoulders.
She landed behind him and swung. The Uruk fell with a curse become wordless groan. Kal whirled to witness how Gimli had made a good deed of the other Uruk, the wide metal blade still sheathed deeply into the side of its neck.
"Finally, some merriment," the dwarf grumbled before retrieving his weapon and they set off again.
They were closer to the edge, but yet far away from the path to the shore, and their progress was indeed slowed by the injured state of Legolas though he pushed forward as far as his limits allowed. They came to an area where trees were sparser.
An arrow struck to her left. Kal turned her head, only to see three Uruk approach. One of them was bearing a bow, aiming anew.
"Get down!" she cried, pulling at Legolas who sharply fell after her, and they all leaned to the ground as they sought for shelter.
"I say Tadion moves with you, Legolas, while Gimli and I face them," Kal looked to Tadion-
Her breath caught.
His bloodied hand was over his side, where a widening red pattern surrounded a protruding black arrow shaft.
"Tadion!" Legolas rose frantically.
"No," Tadion shook his head, "I am good to move, come, rise," he urged his brother, and both elves tried advancing with the cover of Kal and Gimli, who faced the approaching Uruk-hai.
"More goods to trade," one of them growled in the black speech, causing Kal to grind her teeth. They have come this far. They were so close. She focused her entire strength and agility into her sword, the weapon once wielded by noble hands. The blade of a strong and fearless man of Gondor. Freedom.
They proved a good fighting pair, the dwarf and the half-orc. They made swift work of their enemies albeit with some added risk which earned Kal a deep gash in her arm, but they were soon following after the brothers.
Kal took her place to the right side of Legolas, bringing his arm around her neck to aid his advance.
Descending to the shore proved more difficult but there was thankfully no more intrusion from the Uruk and none seemed to be on their trail. Either they had dispersed or there had been fewer of them since the previous night. But Kal was not about to question this gift, and soon they were heading towards the carefully hidden moored boat.
It was then that Tadion fell on his arms and knees, causing Legolas to crash to the ground along with him. Kal darted to aid the speared elf while Gimli aided his brother to rise.
"Come now, we have a little ways yet," Kal said to a slow and weakening Tadion, urging him into the boat. His side was blackened with blood and the elf slumped inside unable to rise or speak, his eyes bleary and unfocused as he lay on his other side, the arrow shaft yet lodged into the wound.
Legolas crawled into the boat with considerable difficulty, aided by Kal and Gimli. The dwarf threw Kal a heavy look before he took the oars and the craft began swaying on water.
Legolas looked his brother over with increasing dismay, his hands trembling as they brushed wet strands of hair from his dampening features.
Kal saw how Tadion tried to speak but nothing came of it. His brother leaned in close, whispering words foreign to her ears.
"Legolas..." she tried, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder, unsure of what to say at all. It was promptly and sharply shirked away.
"You should have left me to them," he spoke dismissively though his voice came thick, his forehead resting against the still arm of his brother. "You should not have come."
A/N:
Thank you for all your thoughts as always and welcome to new readers. I love praise as much as the next person, and welcome constructive comments, too. I also have the habit of replying to each in turn, where possible.
How's everyone holding out? Feel free to let me know, if you wish. On my end, we're doing all we can to stay home and respect the sanitary conditions imposed to help prevention. Fan fiction, its writings and authors, its readers - you - are invaluable in terms of avenues to unwind. It's also what sparked a (not very groundbreaking) idea. Thinking to share with each new update one Tolkien fan fiction I had read and enjoyed. This is just a way to find some more possible sources of ... distraction? entertainment?... during this time. You may enjoy what I suggest, or you may not. Some of them you may have read already (and if so, I'd love to hear your thoughts!). Without further ado, here is the first one:
Down Like Rain by Anais Lacquestar
Source: Silmarillion
It follows the encounter between Lúthien Tinuviel and Melkor Morgoth during the quest of the Silmaril. As a result Melkor fell into a deep sleep, allowing Beren to remove a Silmaril from the crown of the fallen Vala. I cried real tears with this fic and have read it a few times since. It could very well be a "classic" around here.
Take care,
R
