XIX- Wonderings
Riding towards the tower of smoke, Mirren felt sick. Legolas' presence anchored her but as Arod galloped towards what remained of the Uruks, the stench of the burning corpses grew and despite his tight and comforting hold, she had to lower her gaze and hold her breath lightly.
"By the valar!" she breathed as Arod slowed. At the boarder of Fangorn, the heads of several Uruks were mounted on pikes, surrounding the bonfire of the dead.
Could Merry and Pippin really have met their fates here? Seeing the carnage of the skirmish... it wasn't hard to believe. They were halflings, who knew nothing of war… and this had been a massacre. Mirren forced herself not to lose hope and shook her head.
With care Mirren stopped Arod a few paces back from the crest of the hill and Legolas dismounted, holding his arms out for her to take as she slid of the horse, despite knowing she could easily do it herself.
"Are you alright?" He asked with a small quirk of his eyebrow, betraying his worry.
Looking up, she found she had forgotten the natural height difference between them. He was suddenly tall, his eyes were… magnificent and he was standing right there. So close she could hardly breathe without grazing him.
"Hm?" She asked, forgetting his question. She was flustered and tried not to show it despite thinking only of the fact that he was a man and she was a woman. Legolas smiled, albeit a small one at the sense of her overthinking. But she could feel everything, the warmth of his breath as it tickled the tops of her ears; the warmth of his palm through her riding gear as his hand remained lightly balanced on her waist; the warmth of his whole body as he stared down at her.
His head tilted slightly and for a moment her breath hitched in her throat as she thought she saw his head bend a little, as if…as if he was about to kiss her-
-The sound of Gimli falling of Hausfel snapped them out of their moment of peace. Legolas busied himself with the packs they'd strapped to Arod's side and Mirren turned away, forgetting where she was.
What was that?
Regaining a slither of her composure, slowly she made her way towards the others, sliding an unsteady hand over Hausfel's snout as she slipped past him to observe the charred bodies.
Seeing the fire once more she was bought back to the reason they were here, so far from their original path. Mirren refused the believe the Hobbit's had been killed. Surely it was not possible. It could not end like this. They had to live.
"It's one of their wee belts." Gimli said. His words thick with emotion as he began to pick over the ashy remains with the point of his axe.
The woodland Prince came to stand next to Mirren and she clenched her fists, "I refuse to believe it… Aragorn…This was not their fate."
Doubting her words, Aragorn screamed, kicking a stray orc-helm towards the forest with frustration and wayward anger before falling to his knees in despair.
Fresh tears in her eyes, she turned into Legolas, resting her weary head on his chest.
"May they find peace in death." He whispered but Mirren found her throat too choked up to speak. The ellon wrapped both arms around her and hung his head lowly.
"We failed them." Gimli continued, defeated.
"A Hobbit lay here." Aragorn began, tracing his hands over a light patch of grass. "And here." His words were quiet, but they seemed to ring through the air around her.
"Aragorn… Please-" Mirren pleaded softly, she did not want to hear how her friends had died.
"Their hands were bound," The ranger continued, something about his tone and the way he leant closer to the ground, made Mirren look up in hope as he shuffled across it. "Their bonds were cut!" The evidence of the served rope was clear enough.
Mirren wiped the tears from her eyes and let Legolas grab her hand, pulling her along-side him as he followed their friend. Surely these facts meant that there was a chance of their escape!
"They ran over here…They were followed."
Mirren noticed the proximity of the forest and her hope grew. If they had entered the wood, they may have found protection. There were deeper enchantments in the forest that could hold even the greatest of evil powers at bay.
"The tracks lead away from the growing battle!" Aragorn called excitedly, picking up his pace as he still kept his eyes on the tracks on the ground. The dwarf and the ellon followed immediately, dragging Mirren behind them.
"And into Fangorn Forest." Aragorn finished, finally dropping the length of rope onto the floor.
"Fangorn!" Gimli stated in wonder and fear, "What madness drove them in there?"
"They fled a battle, Gimli." She breathed excitedly, a twinkle of delight returning to her eyes, "It was the smartest thing to do."
The dwarf shuddered, "A lesser of two evils, perhaps." He mumbled.
"Still…if they were followed, they may still be in danger, we must continue to track their escape." Mirren stated, turning to grab her pack from Arod.
Aragorn agreed and soon the Four hunter's set off into the Forest, armed lightly once more and ready for anything.
"Relax, my friend." Mirren hummed to Gimli, a mischievous smile lighting her face, "…The forest can sense your fear."
Gimli huffed dramatically, swivelling around for the third or fourth time since they'd entered the forest, with his axe raised. "My fear-ah! What fear!? You pesky elf-maid-"
Legolas shot her a look, knowing she was getting too much pleasure out of the dwarf's discomfort. Stifling her grin, the Daughter of the Sea moved on slowly, her own weapons securely sheathed under the watchful eyes of the trees.
Lichen and moss girdled the wide trunks beside them, a second bark. Everywhere they turned there was greenery in every kind of form. Leaves, grass, bark, twigs, stems and trunks were all alive and thriving around them. It was evident, even to the dwarf, that the forest had a mind of its own; a mind that held many secrets. The canopy above them was thick and blocked out almost all light. Fangorn had its own glow, similar and dis-similar to the atmosphere of Lothlorien. The forest was ancient. As an elf, Mirren was old… and yet these trees would have been older than a millennia when she had been born beside the sea. More at one with trees than she, Legolas shone in their presence. The carefree look on his face proved that he was truly comfortable and at ease. Mirren had not seen him this way since she had last patrolled the boarders of the Greenwood with him, and that had been an age ago.
As the four companions moved, diligently trusting Aragorn to follow Merry and Pippin's tracks, the trees groaned, talking to each-other softly. Mirren shuddered at the feeling in their words; to the elves, the memory and the pain of the forest around them was palpable.
A dark splotch of liquid stained a leaf at elbow-level, disrupting the sea of green. Without hesitation Gimli reached out a finger to taste the liquid.
Immediately he spat it out, disgust clear in his tone as he explained: "Orc blood."
Mirren rolled her eyes. Trust a dwarf to taste the dubious looking liquid in the clearly magical forest.
Tracing her eyes along the forest floor, her gaze halted at the upturned earth near their feet.
"These are strange tracks." Aragorn mused, following her gaze. The elleth just shook her head, if her suspicions were correct the tracks would not be a problem.
"Stranger things walk in this forest than our company." She ensured, scanning as best she could through the trees for any signs of their small friends.
"The air is so thick in here." Gimli complained loudly,
"This forest is old." Legolas chimed; his eyes alive with wonder. "Very old. Full of memory… and anger." He added softly.
"You speak as if the trees are alive." Gimli noted wearily. His eyes darted around, and Mirren did not miss the tightening of his hands around his axe's grip.
A deep groan reverberated around them and the dwarf shuffled uncomfortably once more.
"The trees are speaking to each other." Legolas explained, listening.
The groaning returned, a deep, deep grumble that almost made the ground shake beneath them.
"Gimli!" Aragorn whisper-shouted, looking behind him at the out-of-place dwarf, "Lower your axe!"
Gimli mirrored the action of his friends' arm and lowered the weapon. Silence settled around them slowly.
"They have feelings, my friend." Legolas smiled, "The elves began it. Waking up the trees… teaching them to speak."
"Talking trees." Gimli huffed, muting his words as if the forest would not be able to hear him, "What do trees have to talk about-eh? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings."
For a moment Mirren smiled.
"They are amongst the wisest of all creatures," she reasoned. "They have stood through the comings and goings of Kings, the rise and fall of dominions and come out of thousands of wars, untouched."
Legolas caught her eye and she blushed, moving away slowly, all too aware that his eyes followed her movements. Mirren wondered if he missed Mirkwood as much as she longed for the Sea.
Legolas' homeland was unlike Fangorn and yet something about them echoed the same. The smells and the density of the air, the colours and the background sounds. The gentle falling of leaves and the crunches of acorns underfoot. Observing these things Mirren too longed to see the Greenwood and its Prince, in his element entirely.
Slowly, they moved on, the trees commenting deeply on their trespassing as they followed the strange tracks deeper and deeper into the forest.
They stopped briefly at nightfall, or what they thought would be nightfall if they could see the sky. Exhausted, Mirren lay for a while with her head to the ground trying to loose herself, and her usual flying thoughts, in sleep.
She had seen him glance her way several times during the past hour; nothing unusual. Nothing to cause suspicion of any feeling other than the friendship they had shared for so many years. And yet, she couldn't shake the thought out of her head. That moment, as she'd dismounted Arod, she'd been certain that he was going to kiss her. The memory warmed her cheeks despite the cool-ish breeze, but shaking her head, she tried to convince herself that perhaps it was just in her mind.
He had said nothing, acted no differently than before. She remembered Aragorn's words in Lothlorien and cursed the hope they lit in her heart. It couldn't be true could it? Did she love him?
If I do not, Mirren thought as she lay awake under the vast expanse of unseeable stars, only the darkest hours of midnight might reveal in the forest, why do I suddenly feel the need for him to hold me, to whisper things into my ear in a language only we can understand? The thought made her shiver lightly.
All around her, there was life. A young doe warily grazed under the pale face of moonlight. A cricket creaked, followed by more of its kind. Mirren carefully counted the number of chirps she heard, then added a dozen more. Fangorn was indeed an ancient place. Every inch of the earth seemed to hum with life. The air was thick, and hot despite the intermittent breeze.
Her mind still rattled, she pondered how Gimli was feeling now in the darkness, sharing the limited air with the trees.
She wondered if the dwarf could ever feel at home here, in the claustrophobic tension of the forest. She remembered the depths of Moria and thought this woodland was not dislike a Mine. Too claustrophobic, she thought, desiring deeply the feel and taste of the Sea. Legolas and Gimli where perhaps not so different after all and that bought a smile to her face.
As her eyes grew heavy her hand wandered to grasp the crashing wave broach that had clasped her old cloak together below her neck. Finding it not there her heart emptied and then felt full at the thought of Legolas keeping it close at hand.
Rolling over, she could see his outline once again. He was stood now, keeping watch over them as they slept.
And sleep, she felt, was soon to come. They had run so many miles and despite Legolas' encouragement to sleep the elven way, (to walk both in the heavens and earth) with her mind so occupied with the Hobbit's she realised she had found little rest-bite in the last few days.
A cool breeze blew throughout the densely forested area, fanning Mirren's cheek as she began to doze off. She thought it unusual but did not move until a sudden rustle in a nearby bush abruptly woke her, and unable to fall back to sleep, she lay, staring unblinkingly through the darkness of night.
He does not feel the same, I am sure, Mirren continued to reason, her focal point now a great oak whose branches wavered in the night air. How could he, anyway? My heart is also tied to the sea, and maybe slightly broken, while he is whole and good and kind.
The cool breeze settled around them once again and Mirren sat up, abruptly meeting the gaze of the ellon who had her thoughts so confused.
We are being watched.
She knew it from his eyes... And the way her heart changed pace in time with the pressure of his own.
Slowly, she tapped Gimli on the shoulder, nudging him harder when his snores were not interrupted.
"What is it?" he grumbled when he awoke, "These blasted old trees-uh!"
"Aragorn!" Legolas caught sight of something and stood suddenly, walking with purposeful strides past her and closer to the aged trees, "Something is out there!"
All of them were on their feet and grasping their weapons within seconds.
"What do you see?" Aragorn asked in elvish.
"The White Wizard approaches." Legolas stated lowly.
"Do not let him speak or he will put a spell on us!" The ranger warned, "We must be careful and quick."
But Mirren was not so sure and only raised a hand to shield her face from the bright light as her companions rose their arms against the intruder.
She had seen this before. It felt like a dream. Or a dream of a dream. It was a feint hope and not a fear that gripped her heart as she moved forward to stand with her companions. So as they turned together, Mirren faced the potential threat with empty palms and a calm heart.
Mithrandir. She thought fondly, tears coming to her eyes.
It was the burning dream she had in the safety of Lothlorien, the dream she had not dared believe could be true until Galadriel's words at the riverside. Searching for his face behind the bright white light, she knew the vision had not failed her as this one played out exactly as she had seen it in her mind's eye.
The white wizard had returned, and this time stronger than before. Narya ablaze on his hand.
The White one arises, she thought, and he is here at the turning of the tide.
A/N: Dun Dun Duuuun