CHAPTER FIVE
It was a lovely morning for travel. The sun was dappling the forest floor through the leafy canopy overhead, and the morning mist still lingered in low hollows. Birds sang, the air was clean and the day new. Even the mare's walk was smooth and long-strided. My travel companion, perched in front of me on the mare's withers, was silent and easy company for travel. It would have been a perfect journey save for the warning screaming at the back of my mind that we needed to get as far out of Mirkwood as possible, and with all haste.
"She's a nice horse," I remarked to the top of the small, dark head. He nodded, his preferred means of commentary. "I'd like to travel a little faster, though. Can she go faster?"
Again the nod.
"Then let's move along, shall we?" I nudged the horse with my heels, and the only response I received was an irritated swish of the tail. I tried again, a bit more forcefully. Then I gave her a not so subtle thump with a boot heel. Her head snapped up, ears pinned in annoyance. If anything, she slowed.
"Legolas? Could you ask her to go faster?" He half turned to look up at me, brow furrowed quizzically. "Tell her to go faster, please. I want to make haste in leaving Mirkwood."
He looked apprehensive, as though my request made him uneasy. I was quickly becoming annoyed with this conspiracy between horse and elf, pretending they didn't know what I was asking of them.
"Tell her to go fast, Legolas," I ordered him.
He shrugged, and as he turned back I caught just a glimpse of that wicked grin I'd seen the night before. Leaning forward, Legolas laced his fingers in that golden mane and whispered to the horse's back-turned ear.
My next awareness was that our pace was now similar to riding a missile from a catapult, for that sweet, lazy, elderly mare took off like her tail was on fire. Clutching for anything I could reach -- Legolas, mane, the saddle that wasn't there – I struggled frantically to stay aboard the mare's slippery back as the trees tore past and the wind roared in my ears.
"Whoa! Halt! Stop! Daro! Lasto! Pada! Cease, you insane equine!"
My hat flew off. I have no knowledge of when the staff left me. The packs vanished, and I clung gracelessly to this horse with one hand buried in her mane and the other wrapped tightly about the little body before me. I have no idea how long she ran or what, exactly, prompted her to stop. Perhaps I finally found the correct command, or perhaps my small elf took pity on me. Perhaps it was merely that the out-of-shape grand dame finally grew weary. In any case, her headlong flight finally slowed and returned to the sedate walk she'd offered before.
It seemed more than swift enough at this point. My heart was pounding so loudly that I couldn't hear, and my legs quivered like saplings in a high wind. My small passenger didn't seem to be at all upset, which I found even more irritating somehow. I gave a yank on the mare's mane, which she wisely interpreted as a request for a halt.
"Are you all right?" I asked of my elf.
He turned again and nodded, his eyes dancing with amusement.
"Oh, so you think that was funny?"
It wasn't exactly a shrug, but it certainly wasn't denial. My annoyance rose another notch. He'd known the wretched beast would bolt that way and hadn't warned me.
"I didn't find it that amusing, myself," I growled.
I turned to stare back down the path. I had no idea how far we'd come, but I saw nothing of my belongings, save the gelding ambling up behind us.
"Well that's done it," I snapped, hearing the irritation I had not planned to release in my voice. "Now we have to go back."
I kneed the mare into a turn and pointed her back down the path we'd just trampled. She obligingly shouldered my horse aside, and ambled back toward Thranduil's keep.
The small figure sitting before me stiffened abruptly, then crumpled forward to rest his forehead atop hands still wound in her mane. They were now clenched tightly, white knuckled. Concerned, I reached to rest a hand on his shoulder, but Legolas flinched at the touch and twisted away to slide down the horse's shoulder to the ground. I gasped in surprise and concern, as it was a long drop for one so small, nearly six feet, but he landed easily. He then squared his narrow shoulders and began marching down the path.
"Where are you going?"
He pointed back down the path, and then began to run. Alarm edged out my irritation, and I dismounted the mare as well to follow my child, also at a run. He was small and agile and surprisingly fast, but he wasn't running with the grace I'd seen before. He stumbled now and again, and didn't seem to be watching where he set his feet. And though he had speed, I had the longer legs and was gaining on him.
He stumbled again and fell to his knees just before I reached him. He made no effort to rise, but curled forward with his head bowed and his arms folded across his chest as though he was in pain. I fell to my knees beside him, my hands reaching to engulf his small shoulders before I could correct the gesture. The shoulders trembled violently under my grip. He was shaking.
No, I realized a moment later, he was crying. Legolas shook with silent sobs, unable even to catch a breath through their violence. It chilled me to the heart so see him so distraught. Worse, I had no idea why he was so upset. I'd witnessed his handling of far worse without so much as a squeak, but from a mare's bolt he was devastated.
"What, little leaf? What is wrong? Where are you going?"
One small hand crept up inside the dark tangled hair hiding his face from me, no doubt to swipe at tears.
"What?" I urged again, squeezing his shoulders and giving a small shake. "What is it?"
The hand emerged, and waved vaguely toward the trail.
"You're you're upset that we're going back? Little leaf, we have to go back—"
He wilted under my hands and curled up in a small ball of misery, sobbing silently in overwhelming grief. I stared at him for a moment, then heard my words replayed in my head. 'That's done it. Now we have to go back. We have to go back—'
Grabbing the child up off the ground, I pulled him into my arms almost roughly and crushed him against my chest. "For my hat, Legolas! We have to go back for my hat!"
I wasn't sure if he heard me through his tears. The reassurances continued from me without any conscious thought on my part, desperate as I was to ease his despair.
"No, no little one. We're not going back to your father. We are never going back to your father. We only have to go back for my hat and staff, that's all. Just the hat, and we'll go not one step closer once we've found it. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that. Forgive me, please."
Rocking came naturally to me as I cradled him against me protectively. The tears did not abate, nor did he respond to me at all.
"You are my little elf now, Legolas. I am not giving you back to your father. I will never let him hurt you again. We will not return to Mirkwood, and I will keep you safe with me for as long as you wish to stay with me, which I hope is a very long time indeed. You belong with me, now, and I will let no one take you from me. Not ever. "
Small hands wound their way into my hair. The the crying changed character somehow, though I had not the experience with young ones to interpret what it might mean. All I knew was that my heart was melting and new feelings were emerging: feelings of fierce protectiveness mixed in with a strong dash of possessiveness. [Is this what it is to feel as does a parent?] I wondered. [Is this what it is to love a child?]
Yes, this must be what it is to love a child. I do believe it, for I found in that moment that I did love this child. Never mind the hot, wet face pressed against my neck or the small, damp hands painfully entangled in my hair or even the runny nose buried in my beard. This small soul suddenly meant more to me than all of Middle-Earth, and probably the Undying Lands as well.
"You're my elf, I am your wizard, and I love you very much, little leaf. And no one will ever take you away from me," I whispered fiercely into that pointed ear. I repeated it several times, along with other soothing, mindless things that seemed appropriate to say. The morning's urgency had faded as I sat in the damp forest litter, letting this small soul weep out the years of pain he'd stored within.
The tears finally slowed into hiccuping sobs, though the grip in my beard lessened not at all. I would have to move the morning on myself. Lifting him slightly away from my soggy shoulder, I sat him back on my lap and lifted his chin so that I might see his face. He was a mess with red eyes, a running nose, and tear tracks leaving streaks of clean skin through the overall grime of his face. I smiled at him and, with the means instinctive to all parents, used the hem of my robe to wipe away some of the damage.
"Did you understand what I told you? That you belong to me now?"
A hesitant nod.
"That you can stay with me for as long as you wish? Forever if you want to?"
Again the hesitant nod.
"Do you want to stay with me? Be my elf and let me be your wizard?"
Hope filled those eyes, hope and longing and a wistful sadness that I thought might break my heart. As though he felt this might be everything he could want and … as though it would likely be taken away again.
"Do you? Do you want to stay with me?"
He nodded then.
"Tell me. I need to hear the words," I urged.
"Yeth. Want to sthay."
I hugged him again. I couldn't help it.
"Then it's done, little leaf. We travel together." I set him on his feet and then stood, brushing aimlessly at the leaves clinging to my backside. "However, we still need to go back. For my hat. And my staff. And our lunch, which vanished somewhere in that wild ride. And I do hope that your horse will not be offended, but I really would like to have my saddle on her. I'm not too experienced in clinging to a naked horse."
He offered me a shy smile, then caught at my forefinger before heading back down the path. Our manic flight through the trees really hadn't taken us very far, it seemed, for it wasn't long before he released my finger to dart off the path and into the undergrowth. I heard some rustling about in the greenery, and within moments the hat was located and presented to me, adorned with a bit of bramble and a small tear where he'd yanked it out of a bush, evidently. He left me again, muttering over my poor wounded hat, only to reappear a few minutes later wrestling my staff which was at least twice his length. He made me laugh with his earnestness and difficulties, as he couldn't go three steps without entangling it in a branch overhead which threatening to pull him over backwards before he noticed it, or dragging it into some bush that caught and held it fast. I let him finish the journey on his own, and thanked him for his efforts in returning the staff to me.
"Now, would you please explain to that comet of yours that I need her to wear the saddle?" I requested gently. "And that I'd like to proceed at a pace somewhere between grazing at pasture and taking off as if wolves were snapping at her heels?"
He grinned at me, all smudged face and toothless smile, the very image of innocence and mischief. He obligingly held a whispered conversation with the old lady, and the saddle was transferred to her back, though she bore it will ill grace. We climbed up onto her tall back, and after a fit of abrupt stops and discomfiting vertical lurches --during which she kicked irritably at the girth around her ribs -- we were underway once more. We traveled at a sedate trot this time, with me all the more pleased for stirrups and a pommel to grab should another fit of racing the lightning seize her. My little elf leaned back into my chest and relaxed as we continued on, at peace for the first time since I'd met him. I didn't want to think how long it had been for him beyond that.
It was a lovely morning for travel. The sun was dappling the forest floor through the leafy canopy overhead, and the morning mist still lingered in low hollows. Birds sang, the air was clean and the day new. Even the mare's walk was smooth and long-strided. My travel companion, perched in front of me on the mare's withers, was silent and easy company for travel. It would have been a perfect journey save for the warning screaming at the back of my mind that we needed to get as far out of Mirkwood as possible, and with all haste.
"She's a nice horse," I remarked to the top of the small, dark head. He nodded, his preferred means of commentary. "I'd like to travel a little faster, though. Can she go faster?"
Again the nod.
"Then let's move along, shall we?" I nudged the horse with my heels, and the only response I received was an irritated swish of the tail. I tried again, a bit more forcefully. Then I gave her a not so subtle thump with a boot heel. Her head snapped up, ears pinned in annoyance. If anything, she slowed.
"Legolas? Could you ask her to go faster?" He half turned to look up at me, brow furrowed quizzically. "Tell her to go faster, please. I want to make haste in leaving Mirkwood."
He looked apprehensive, as though my request made him uneasy. I was quickly becoming annoyed with this conspiracy between horse and elf, pretending they didn't know what I was asking of them.
"Tell her to go fast, Legolas," I ordered him.
He shrugged, and as he turned back I caught just a glimpse of that wicked grin I'd seen the night before. Leaning forward, Legolas laced his fingers in that golden mane and whispered to the horse's back-turned ear.
My next awareness was that our pace was now similar to riding a missile from a catapult, for that sweet, lazy, elderly mare took off like her tail was on fire. Clutching for anything I could reach -- Legolas, mane, the saddle that wasn't there – I struggled frantically to stay aboard the mare's slippery back as the trees tore past and the wind roared in my ears.
"Whoa! Halt! Stop! Daro! Lasto! Pada! Cease, you insane equine!"
My hat flew off. I have no knowledge of when the staff left me. The packs vanished, and I clung gracelessly to this horse with one hand buried in her mane and the other wrapped tightly about the little body before me. I have no idea how long she ran or what, exactly, prompted her to stop. Perhaps I finally found the correct command, or perhaps my small elf took pity on me. Perhaps it was merely that the out-of-shape grand dame finally grew weary. In any case, her headlong flight finally slowed and returned to the sedate walk she'd offered before.
It seemed more than swift enough at this point. My heart was pounding so loudly that I couldn't hear, and my legs quivered like saplings in a high wind. My small passenger didn't seem to be at all upset, which I found even more irritating somehow. I gave a yank on the mare's mane, which she wisely interpreted as a request for a halt.
"Are you all right?" I asked of my elf.
He turned again and nodded, his eyes dancing with amusement.
"Oh, so you think that was funny?"
It wasn't exactly a shrug, but it certainly wasn't denial. My annoyance rose another notch. He'd known the wretched beast would bolt that way and hadn't warned me.
"I didn't find it that amusing, myself," I growled.
I turned to stare back down the path. I had no idea how far we'd come, but I saw nothing of my belongings, save the gelding ambling up behind us.
"Well that's done it," I snapped, hearing the irritation I had not planned to release in my voice. "Now we have to go back."
I kneed the mare into a turn and pointed her back down the path we'd just trampled. She obligingly shouldered my horse aside, and ambled back toward Thranduil's keep.
The small figure sitting before me stiffened abruptly, then crumpled forward to rest his forehead atop hands still wound in her mane. They were now clenched tightly, white knuckled. Concerned, I reached to rest a hand on his shoulder, but Legolas flinched at the touch and twisted away to slide down the horse's shoulder to the ground. I gasped in surprise and concern, as it was a long drop for one so small, nearly six feet, but he landed easily. He then squared his narrow shoulders and began marching down the path.
"Where are you going?"
He pointed back down the path, and then began to run. Alarm edged out my irritation, and I dismounted the mare as well to follow my child, also at a run. He was small and agile and surprisingly fast, but he wasn't running with the grace I'd seen before. He stumbled now and again, and didn't seem to be watching where he set his feet. And though he had speed, I had the longer legs and was gaining on him.
He stumbled again and fell to his knees just before I reached him. He made no effort to rise, but curled forward with his head bowed and his arms folded across his chest as though he was in pain. I fell to my knees beside him, my hands reaching to engulf his small shoulders before I could correct the gesture. The shoulders trembled violently under my grip. He was shaking.
No, I realized a moment later, he was crying. Legolas shook with silent sobs, unable even to catch a breath through their violence. It chilled me to the heart so see him so distraught. Worse, I had no idea why he was so upset. I'd witnessed his handling of far worse without so much as a squeak, but from a mare's bolt he was devastated.
"What, little leaf? What is wrong? Where are you going?"
One small hand crept up inside the dark tangled hair hiding his face from me, no doubt to swipe at tears.
"What?" I urged again, squeezing his shoulders and giving a small shake. "What is it?"
The hand emerged, and waved vaguely toward the trail.
"You're you're upset that we're going back? Little leaf, we have to go back—"
He wilted under my hands and curled up in a small ball of misery, sobbing silently in overwhelming grief. I stared at him for a moment, then heard my words replayed in my head. 'That's done it. Now we have to go back. We have to go back—'
Grabbing the child up off the ground, I pulled him into my arms almost roughly and crushed him against my chest. "For my hat, Legolas! We have to go back for my hat!"
I wasn't sure if he heard me through his tears. The reassurances continued from me without any conscious thought on my part, desperate as I was to ease his despair.
"No, no little one. We're not going back to your father. We are never going back to your father. We only have to go back for my hat and staff, that's all. Just the hat, and we'll go not one step closer once we've found it. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that. Forgive me, please."
Rocking came naturally to me as I cradled him against me protectively. The tears did not abate, nor did he respond to me at all.
"You are my little elf now, Legolas. I am not giving you back to your father. I will never let him hurt you again. We will not return to Mirkwood, and I will keep you safe with me for as long as you wish to stay with me, which I hope is a very long time indeed. You belong with me, now, and I will let no one take you from me. Not ever. "
Small hands wound their way into my hair. The the crying changed character somehow, though I had not the experience with young ones to interpret what it might mean. All I knew was that my heart was melting and new feelings were emerging: feelings of fierce protectiveness mixed in with a strong dash of possessiveness. [Is this what it is to feel as does a parent?] I wondered. [Is this what it is to love a child?]
Yes, this must be what it is to love a child. I do believe it, for I found in that moment that I did love this child. Never mind the hot, wet face pressed against my neck or the small, damp hands painfully entangled in my hair or even the runny nose buried in my beard. This small soul suddenly meant more to me than all of Middle-Earth, and probably the Undying Lands as well.
"You're my elf, I am your wizard, and I love you very much, little leaf. And no one will ever take you away from me," I whispered fiercely into that pointed ear. I repeated it several times, along with other soothing, mindless things that seemed appropriate to say. The morning's urgency had faded as I sat in the damp forest litter, letting this small soul weep out the years of pain he'd stored within.
The tears finally slowed into hiccuping sobs, though the grip in my beard lessened not at all. I would have to move the morning on myself. Lifting him slightly away from my soggy shoulder, I sat him back on my lap and lifted his chin so that I might see his face. He was a mess with red eyes, a running nose, and tear tracks leaving streaks of clean skin through the overall grime of his face. I smiled at him and, with the means instinctive to all parents, used the hem of my robe to wipe away some of the damage.
"Did you understand what I told you? That you belong to me now?"
A hesitant nod.
"That you can stay with me for as long as you wish? Forever if you want to?"
Again the hesitant nod.
"Do you want to stay with me? Be my elf and let me be your wizard?"
Hope filled those eyes, hope and longing and a wistful sadness that I thought might break my heart. As though he felt this might be everything he could want and … as though it would likely be taken away again.
"Do you? Do you want to stay with me?"
He nodded then.
"Tell me. I need to hear the words," I urged.
"Yeth. Want to sthay."
I hugged him again. I couldn't help it.
"Then it's done, little leaf. We travel together." I set him on his feet and then stood, brushing aimlessly at the leaves clinging to my backside. "However, we still need to go back. For my hat. And my staff. And our lunch, which vanished somewhere in that wild ride. And I do hope that your horse will not be offended, but I really would like to have my saddle on her. I'm not too experienced in clinging to a naked horse."
He offered me a shy smile, then caught at my forefinger before heading back down the path. Our manic flight through the trees really hadn't taken us very far, it seemed, for it wasn't long before he released my finger to dart off the path and into the undergrowth. I heard some rustling about in the greenery, and within moments the hat was located and presented to me, adorned with a bit of bramble and a small tear where he'd yanked it out of a bush, evidently. He left me again, muttering over my poor wounded hat, only to reappear a few minutes later wrestling my staff which was at least twice his length. He made me laugh with his earnestness and difficulties, as he couldn't go three steps without entangling it in a branch overhead which threatening to pull him over backwards before he noticed it, or dragging it into some bush that caught and held it fast. I let him finish the journey on his own, and thanked him for his efforts in returning the staff to me.
"Now, would you please explain to that comet of yours that I need her to wear the saddle?" I requested gently. "And that I'd like to proceed at a pace somewhere between grazing at pasture and taking off as if wolves were snapping at her heels?"
He grinned at me, all smudged face and toothless smile, the very image of innocence and mischief. He obligingly held a whispered conversation with the old lady, and the saddle was transferred to her back, though she bore it will ill grace. We climbed up onto her tall back, and after a fit of abrupt stops and discomfiting vertical lurches --during which she kicked irritably at the girth around her ribs -- we were underway once more. We traveled at a sedate trot this time, with me all the more pleased for stirrups and a pommel to grab should another fit of racing the lightning seize her. My little elf leaned back into my chest and relaxed as we continued on, at peace for the first time since I'd met him. I didn't want to think how long it had been for him beyond that.