The Catapult.
This story is set in the universe that I created for the series The Nameless One, in which Legolas, initially known as Anomen, is fostered by Elrond at Rivendell. In that universe, Estel, Elrohir, and Elladan are the Mirkwood elf's foster brothers.
Legolas shook his head to clear it. Rarely had he found himself in this state: dazed, staggering, grasping at a tree for support. And it was mortifying that the youngster Estel had catapulted him into this condition. Yes, catapulted. Through fogged ears, he heard Elladan and Elrohir laughing—no, sniggering, a most unevenly sound, in Legolas's estimation. Then, worse, Elrohir broke into a song, and after a few verses Elladan joined in the chorus:
He'd fly through the air with the greatest of ease,
That daring young elf on the flying trapeze.
Elladan and Elrohir stopped singing when Estel began to clamor, "What's a trapeze? What's a trapeze? Tell me! Tell me!"
Still chortling, Elrohir explained, "Some troupes of Men travel from town to town putting on shows that they call 'circuses'. Amongst the acts, some folk—they are called acrobats—climb high and perform feats of daring dangling from a sort of swing. This swing they call a trapeze."
"I want to see a circus! Do take me to see a circus!" begged Estel.
"Those troupes of Men are to be found only in Gondor," Elladan explained.
"Ada says I must go to Gondor! May I not go now?" Estel said eagerly.
"Gondor is far away. You will journey there when you are a man," Elladan answered.
"Ada says I am a Man!"
"Yes, you are a Man, but you are not a man," Elladan explained.
Estel looked befuddled—no surprise there as he could not hear the distinction between an upper case M and a lower case m. Elladan tried again.
"You belong to the nation of Men rather than Elves, but the word also means an adult. You are not yet fully grown, so in that sense you are not a man."
"But when I am a grown-up, I may journey to Gondor and see a circus?"
"Yes," agreed Elladan. 'Although', he added to himself, 'when it comes time to make that journey, circuses will be of little interest to you—the feats of daring that matter then will be feats of arms'.
By now Elladan had stinted his laughter, and he called to Legolas.
"You are well, Legolas?"
"A little shaken, but I have suffered no harm—save to my dignity!"
At the urging of Elrohir—who in spite of his raillery truly loved his foster brother—Legolas was now seated on a log, and although Legolas appeared unhurt, Elrohir pressed and bent his limbs to make certain he had no hidden injuries. Legolas winced a few times, but Elrohir was quickly satisfied that Legolas's limbs were sound. Smiling, Elrohir gave Legolas a hand and helped him to his feet, and the elves and the little human began to walk back towards the field where stood the catapult built to the specifications of Elrond's counselor Erestor.
"I suppose I could joke that your thick head has saved you from harm," Elrohir began.
Legolas and Elladan both groaned. "That is a stale joke," Elladan objected. "Such an original accident deserves an original quip."
"We must tell Erestor that his flight of fancy was a flight indeed," Estel piped up, grinning.
"A hit! A very palpable hit!" cried Legolas, also grinning. Estel had only lately begun trying to match wits with his foster-brothers, and Legolas thought the young human was performing creditably, especially considering the advantage in age enjoyed by the elves.
Soon they had reached the catapult. Legolas eyed it ruefully. He had laughingly climbed into the bucket, which had been (he thought!) securely held down by the restraining cable. Ai! The rope holding the catapult's potential energy in check had been released all too easily by a curious Estel as he investigated the catapult's mechanism. So it was that Legolas found himself flying through the air with the greatest of ease. Fortunately, he both cleared an outbuilding and landed short of a stand of trees. He thudded into a windrow of leaves that cushioned his landing, leaving him befuddled but in the main unhurt.
"Erestor is right, I think," Elladan was saying. "This catapult could hurl projectiles weighty enough to knock gaps into the ranks of attacking warriors—and at no risk to our own forces, who will not be within bow range."
"As long as our warriors do not become projectiles themselves," Elrohir said drily.
"Elrohir!" Legolas protested. "I will not be so foolish as to be launched a second time!"
Elrohir laughed. The three elves combined forces to pull the bucket back into launch position and secured the cable to the make-fast cleat. For his part, Estel solemnly promised not to meddle with the rope. At dinner that night, Legolas told Erestor that they had tested the catapult and that its performance had surprised them. Elladan and Elrohir paid careful attention to their plates whilst Legolas spoke, which made their father Elrond raise his eyebrows. He had long ago learned to be suspicious whenever Elladan and Elrohir evinced excessive interest in their meals. He wondered what his sons and foster-sons had used to test the catapult. Momentarily, he eyed Estel, who was also paying careful attention to his plate. However, the little human was usually voracious, so his absorption in his meal was not as significant as Elladan and Elrohir's. In any event, Estel did not look as if he had been flung by catapult. He appeared to have the same number of cuts, scrapes, and bruises on his face, neck, and hands as he had had at breakfast that morning. Elrond suppressed the urge to sigh and turned his attention to his own plate.
At breakfast a week later, Erestor, who was a scribe as well as a counselor, was enumerating the ink colors that needed replenishing. It had been raining since the day after the young elves had 'tested' the catapult. This was the first clear morning, so Legolas, eager to spend some time under the sun, quickly volunteered to search for the bark and berries that Erestor used to prepare his inks. Elladan and Elrohir, too slow to speak up, were delegated by their father to Glorfindel, who wanted them to serve as sparring partners for elves lately arrived from Lothlórien for training so that the elf lord could assess their skills. (Galadriel's elves, whilst renowned for their archery, frankly acknowledged that elves trained by Glorfindel on the sword were superior at wielding that weapon than those trained by Lothlórien masters.) As their father had done a week ago, Elladan and Elrohir suppressed sighs. The newly arrived trainees were callow (inasmuch as an elf can be callow), and neither twin was renowned for patience with novices.
After assigning Elladan and Elrohir to Glorfindel, Elrond turned toward Estel. Fearing that he would be tasked with lugging water for the novices the livelong day, the boy hastily said, "On days when Legolas is on patrol, someone else must fetch bark and berries for ink; pray let me accompany Legolas so that I may learn to recognize the plants that are needful." Elrond was amused, for he knew perfectly well why Estel was offering to go with Legolas. But he nodded his head gravely. As for Legolas, he did not mind Estel's company, for the lad always cheerfully performed his fair share of any task. Moreover, there would be no catapult to worry about!
Legolas and Estel borrowed baskets from the Gardener. Into one Legolas placed a coil of rope, for he meant to climb up a bluff and planned to use the rope to lower laden baskets down the bluff. Then the two went to the kitchen to ask the Cook to fill a satchel with fruit, bread, cheese, and cold meats. Legolas was planning a full day's excursion; in the course of the day they would slowly eat their way through the provender in the satchel and return to the Hall with both it and the baskets filled with bark and berries. Erestor would be well supplied for several months. From the kitchen they walked to a stream that flowed into the Bruinen. It was a meandering water course, deep enough to float the boat that was pulled up on its bank, but even with the recent rains not so swift that it would be tiresome rowing back upstream. Besides, Legolas meant to wait until the sun was low in the east, so rowing would not make him uncomfortably warm. (Elves are bothered more by heat than by cold; in fact, years later Legolas would run lightly atop a drift during a blizzard in the Misty Mountains and not be troubled in the least by the freezing air or the driving snow.)
Legolas and Estel tossed the satchel and the baskets into the boat and pushed off. With the advantage of the downstream current and the assistance of the elf's paddling, they soon arrived at the Bruinen. They floated past the Ford of Bruinen, the only spot where the river could be crossed without a vessel, and pulled their boat out onto a shelf a few miles away, at a point where the river was very narrow and very deep, with high bluffs on either side. They had landed on the side of the river opposite from the territory where Elrond held sway, but Legolas knew that atop the bluff on that side were nearly all the plants that would furnish the bark and berries that Erestor wished them to harvest. Moreover, elven scouts patrolled both banks and had lately seen no sign of foes. (Of course, as Glorfindel never failed to remind his novices, if a patrol finds no sign of foes one morning, that proves that this spot was free of foes—one morning.)
Legolas uncoiled the rope and tied the satchel and the baskets to one end. Then he tied the other end around his waist and climbed up the bluff nimbly. Estel, nearly as nimble—he had been raised amongst elves and possessed a moiety of elven blood himself—followed close behind. Soon they were on top of the bluff, and Legolas pulled the satchel and baskets up after them and neatly recoiled the rope. By now they were ready for what Legolas would someday call second breakfast—adopting a phrase from a little people that some folk call Hobbits, but for now neither he nor Estel gave the meal any particular name—it was just a pause for refreshments.
Here under the sun Legolas and Estel ate in the style of the Rangers, Estel's kinsmen who slipped into Rivendell from time to time—never staying long, but always bringing valuable news about the movements of Orcs and other foes. The elf and young human casually placed meat and cheese between two slices of bread. This practice was frowned upon at Elrond's table because it required one to open one's mouth very wide in a manner that Erestor, arbiter of manners in Imladris, had declared "uncouth." But they had only the birds for an audience, and they swooped in approvingly to snatch up crumbs.
Polishing off their uncouth meal, even Legolas felt the lassitude of a full belly, and they agreed that it was necessary to nap before searching out the ink ingredients. So it was that they were quietly resting at the first sound of looming danger. Indeed, both were lying so still that Estel, whose hearing was keen but not as acute as an elf's, knew of its approach at almost the same time as did Legolas. The two rolled over from their backs to their stomachs and crawled to the edge of the bluff, peering down carefully. From upstream Orcs in single file trotted alongside the base of the bluff. They might have been scouts, but they were well armed. Perhaps they meant to cross the Ford of Bruinen and mount a sortie into Elrond's realm, killing or capturing messengers or small band of travelers traveling to or from Rivendell. (This was before a spell was put on the Bruinen to make it rise if an enemy set foot in the water.)
As Legolas and Estel watched helplessly, the Orcs reached their boat and whooped with exultation as they hacked at it with axes. "They have stove in the boat," Estel whispered. "We must devise a plan to escape without it."
Legolas thought hard. They were on the wrong side of the Bruinen, with Orcs on the shore between them and the river, and their boat was destroyed. Legolas had told Elrond that their excursion would last the day, that they would not return to the Hall until twilight, so no one would be looking for them for hours. Meanwhile, the Orcs, having discovered the boat, were casting about trying to pick up their trail. If Legolas had been alone, he felt sure he could have evaded them, but with Estel, he was not so certain. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to show himself to the Orcs and lead them away from Estel. But to leave the boy alone, was that wise?
As Legolas mulled their (seemingly limited) options, Estel tugged at his sleeve. "Legolas," the boy said softly. "I know how we can get past the Orcs."
"Perhaps we could somehow slip past them, make for the ford, and cross there," Legolas murmured, ignoring the child. "Of course, the Orcs might guess we would do that and follow us and then cross the ford, too, and pursue us—and they can move very swiftly!"
Estel was still tugging on his sleeve. "No," he whispered, "we can cross straightaway, right here."
Legolas pulled his arm away. "'Even if our boat were not ruined, we couldn't cross here," he said impatiently. "The Orcs are right in front of us. We'd be walking straight into their arms."
"No, we won't," Estel assured him, "because we are going to go over them. Look!"
The little human pointed behind them at several slender trees. "We can pull two trees down into arcs. The top of each we must tie down. We must each cling to the top of one tree and then cut the rope. And then whoosh! Each tree will be as good as a catapult! I looked carefully at Erestor's machine and that is all that is required: something pulled down that will spring up when released."
Legolas considered. They were on a bluff high above the Orcs. They would be aiming for the bluff on the other side. The gap between the bluffs was narrow. The make-shift catapults would not have to fling them far. And the river was deep here—too deep for the Orcs to swim. Once on the Rivendell side of the Bruinen, Legolas and Estel would be well positioned to escape.
Estel had seized his sleeve again. "It would work," he whispered urgently. "Think how far you were flung by Erestor's catapult—and you weren't hurt, neither."
Legolas hesitated—and then he heard the sound of rocks rolling. He once again peered over the edge of the bluff. The Orcs were trying to climb its face. They were not as nimble as elves and kept dislodging rocks, but Legolas was sure that eventually they would clamber to the top. He hesitated no longer. He seized their coil of rope. "Quick. Take the rope and climb that tree," he ordered Estel. The boy scrambled up the tree and even before being told was knotting the rope around the trunk at a point that was rigid enough not to break but high enough so that a substantial portion of the tree could be bent into the necessary arc. The rope secured, he threw the other end down to Legolas and descended the tree. Together, they pulled on the rope until they had bent the tree down as much as possible. Legolas secured the rope to a stump and then cut the trailing end of the rope so that it could be used to bend and secure a second tree. Swiftly, they had two catapults.
"Hurry! Grab that one!" Legolas commanded. "Hold tight until it springs upright and you feel it catapulting you forward!"
With Estel clinging to the top of the tree, Legolas cut the rope—and Estel soared into the air, flew across the river, and landed in some bushes (fortunately ones without thorns). The Orcs let out yells of amazement. Not pausing to enjoy their confusion, Legolas grabbed hold of the top of the second tree. Wrapping one arm around it, with his free hand he cut the rope, and just as an Orc thrust his head above the edge of the bluff, the elf flew into the air and landed in the same bushes that Estel had been flung into. Estel was pressing his sleeve on a bloody nose but seemed otherwise unhurt. Legolas leaped up at once and hauled Estel to his feet.
"The Orcs cannot cross here," the elf told the boy, "but they may make for the ford. We have a considerable head start, but we should still be well away from here in case they do try to pursue us."
The two set out at a trot. Legolas was prepared to carry Estel if, as the elf expected, the child's strength failed, but the little human did not flag—something Legolas thought back on years later when, as Aragorn, the human was indefatigable as he, the elf, and a dwarf ran across the Plains of Rohan in an attempt to rescue friends who had been captured by a band of Orcs and Uruk-hai.
Afoot on uneven ground, after sunset they were still miles from the Hall, and they joyed to hear the sounds of the bells that elves customarily attach to their horses' headstalls. Legolas hallooed, and soon they were surrounded by elves that Elrond had sent in search of them. Swiftly Legolas explained what had happened. Stripping bells from headstalls, the elves grimly rode on in silence in the direction of the Bruinen, leaving Legolas and Estel with the two extra horses the searchers had brought with them. Estel usually grasped at any chance to ride a horse instead of the pony set aside for his use, but it was late, and he allowed that he had better share the elf's horse. With the spare horse trailing after, they rode for the Hall. Fortunately, Legolas had made Estel sit in front of him. The lad was nodding by the time they reached the Hall and let it be known that he had felt grateful for the elf's encircling arm. "Thank you, Legolas," he said frankly as he slid to the ground. "I am not a man yet!"
"No, but you are clever and brave. It is said that the child is father to the man, so it is certain you will be a wise leader and a doughty warrior!"
The torches before the Hall cast a flickering light; even so, Legolas could see Estel flush with pride. The elf dismounted, handed the reins to an ostler, and clapped Estel affectionately on the shoulder. The boy winced. Instantly, Legolas realized that the lad had suffered more than a bloody nose, but the boy had never let on that he was in pain as they jogged their way toward safety. Suddenly Legolas felt intense love and loyalty towards this small but great-hearted human.
Elrond was descending the steps now. The relieved father led his two foster-sons into his chamber. He sent for food and drink and then tended to Estel's bruised shoulder. The servants bearing the refreshments were intercepted by Elladan and Elrohir. Elrond raised his eyebrows when the twins materialized with the trays. Still, he let them stay. Glorfindal and Erestor soon arrived as well, so Legolas would only have to tell the story once. Between hungry bites, Legolas told the tale, not omitting anything, including the fact that he been sent soaring by Erestor's catapult the previous week.
"Estel's curiosity stood us in good stead," Legolas explained. "First, he came to understand how a catapult works. Second, he knew that it could fling not only an object but a person. It seemed a misadventure at the time, but now I am very glad he meddled with Erestor's contraption and sent me flying into the air. The outcome was most unexpected but all to the good."
"That is the way of things," said a deep voice that emanated from beneath the broad brim of a battered hat worn by a travel-stained figure standing in the doorway.
"Mithrandir!" cried Legolas. "When did you arrive?"
"Did you see me before now?"
"No."
"Then I reckon just now."
Legolas huffed in mock exasperation but leaped up to offer his chair to the wizard, who handed the elf his hat and staff before settling himself comfortably in the vacated seat. Elladan proffered the traveler a plate, and Elrohir poured him a cup of wine.
"The hospitality of the Last Homely House is, as usual, unimpeachable," Mithrandir said approvingly. "Now what is this about a catapult?"
So Legolas did after all have to tell the story all over again. By the time he had finished, Estel was sound asleep, his head lolling against Elrohir's shoulder. At a nod from Elrond, Elladan carefully scooped up Estel so that Elrohir could gain his feet, and with Estel in Elladan's arms, the twins quietly left the chamber to put the young human to bed. Delighted that he was not sent after them—at least not immediately—Legolas seized the opportunity to pose a question to the wizard.
"Mithrandir, what did you mean when you said, 'That is the way of things'?"
"I meant that while we cannot anticipate how matters will turn out, most events—even those that at first blush seem ill-omened—in some way set the stage for the best of consequences."
"But the Orc sortie upon the very borders of Rivendell, I do not see how that could be for the best."
"Legolas, I do not pretend to understand the bent of the universe; even for a wizard—or an elf—the arc is a long one, and my eye reaches but little ways; I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; I can divine it by intuition. And from what I feel I am sure it bends towards justice."
"You yourself, Legolas, illustrate the truth that the arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice. You were separated from your father Thranduil at an early age and came to be fostered by Elrond, who still happily hosts you when you return to Rivendell to stay for a spell. It was hard at the time for you and for Thranduil, but the alliance forged as a result between Mirkwood and Rivendell has benefited both realms. And I deem that Middle Earth will one day have reason to be glad that Estel, too, was fostered here, even though his upbringing amongst the elves was necessitated because of the death of his father Arathorn at the hands of Orcs."
"Yes, Orcs," said Legolas. "How do they contribute to the arc of justice when they prowl the borders of Imladris?"
"Two ways," Mithrandir replied equably. "First, by dying and reducing the number of our foes. Elrond, I think you will shortly receive a report of a skirmish between your warriors and some foes who foolishly crossed the Ford of Bruinen in pursuit of a young elf and a little human."
'Mithrandir has met with the search party', thought Legolas. Aloud, he asked, "And the second way?"
"Every encounter with the enemy provides us with insights into their movements and intentions," answered the wizard. He put down his glass and arose. "Elrond, unless you've changed your mind about pipe weed, I'll see myself into the garden to enjoy my one indulgence."
"I have not changed my mind, Mithrandir," Elrond replied. "You may not befoul my chamber with those noxious vapours."
Erestor grimaced. He shared Elrond's opinion of pipe weed. "Have a care that those fumes are not the death of you," he warned.
"Oh, it won't be pipe weed," Mithrandir said coolly. Suddenly his eyes were far away. "Not smoke rings but shadow and flame I see at my downfall," he murmured.
"Mithrandir," Glorfindel cried, "come back!"
The wizard shook his head and instantly was again in the room with them. "Well, goodnight!" he said cheerfully and then strode swiftly from the chamber.
Legolas now said goodnight as well. He went to his chamber and tried to sleep, but his rest at first was fitful, for he woke repeatedly to a nightmare in which he was in a huge, cavernous place ringed with shadow and flame. At last, though, he murmured the phrase "the arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice" over and over again until he was finally comforted by a dream in which a figure robed in white rode upon a great white horse. 'That is one of the mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell', marveled dream-Legolas. The robed rider galloped across grass-lands toward a Golden Hall, and dream-Legolas rode with him, and there was a man, too, and a—dwarf? Legolas felt puzzled by that last figure as he woke from his dream. He lay in bed awhile mulling it over. At last he shrugged and arose. 'I shall just have to remember what Mithrandir said', he told himself as he dressed. 'Most events—even those that at first blush seem ill-omened—in some way set the stage for the best of consequences. So though a dwarf would ordinarily be a bad sign, I shall have to trust that his presence presages something good in the end'. And with that thought the young elf left his chamber prepared to be catapulted into his next adventure.