CHAPTER SIX
The further away from Mirkwood we got, the more relaxed Legolas seemed to become. And the more tense I became. I wanted down these riding paths and through the woods and safe-home to Rivendell as quickly as possible. While, through my magic and Glamdring, I could defend against any arachnid or orc threat, I didn't wish to imperil Legolas. His life and peace of mind were precious to me now; it wouldn't do to introduce him to the dangers sweeping into his father's lands. Not until he was a bit taller, anyway.
Carefully gathering my power, I spun an invisible shield of protection around our little group. I'd slept little the night before and such warding devoured more energy than I cared to admit to, but for the duration of our journey inside my magic circle, we'd be all but invisible to prying, dangerous eyes. And the little elf riding so boldly before me with his fingers tangled in the mare's mane would be safe.
The day continued bright and clear, with us making good time down the road. If I knew Thranduil -- and I thought I had learned quite enough of his moods and tolerances over the past few days -- he wouldn't realize that his son was truly gone until he bellowed for his small victim that night. Hopefully, he'd not send his guard out after us until the morrow at the earliest, perhaps two or three days if Galion was cooperatively silent about matters.
My hat shaded the worst of the sun from my elf's delicate skin. He rode bravely and happily for a time, looking in all directions in an attempt to see everything we passed, until his young muscles tired of riding. A sigh escaped him then as he relaxed further, and I subtly took control of the horse. She canted her ears back in acknowledgment of the slight tensing of my knees, but did not alter her pace.
I suspected that the novelty of the adventure and the new sights from the road were wearing thin on Legolas's small mind. Not only that, his stomach had to be empty, for the bit of bread and honey that had served as breakfast had been swift and light and many hours ago.
Reaching back and down, I rummaged through one of the saddle bags provided by Legolas's friends. Twisting around, he watched me work. Bringing forth two small sweetloafs and a bit of cheese, I plopped them in his lap.
"Hold these, if you will."
His small hands gathered the items in, cradling them carefully against his tunic.
"We'll not be stopping while we eat," I told him. "Rivendell is a two-day journey if we dismount only to tend to necessities and sleep." My hand found a waterskin. I dared to brush my other hand over his dirty mop as it caught in my beard. His hair was unusual now that I saw it in the sunlight; it was dark but with silver highlights that caught leaf-broken sunlight. "Are you thirsty, little leaf?"
I offered the skin; in return, he offered me my loaf and the cheese.
"Here, now. Lean back against me while I divide up our wares."
He did so and drank, though he managed to pour a fair bit of water down my leg as he learned the tricky skill of drinking from a waterskin designed for larger hands. Retrieving my knife, I wrapped my arms around him and whittled away at the cheese. Opening my palm, I offered him the shavings; his small fingers slid calmly over my callused palm to gather them up and nibble on them.
I smiled to myself; how far he'd come since only the night before, to take food from me so easily. He was, as Thranduil had said, all eyes and silence. I found the silence companionable, and a comfortable companion to have on such a journey. Putting away my knife, I laid my hand on his narrow shoulder.
"I'm glad that we met, Legolas. And I'm glad to have you along today."
He cast a look over his shoulder, first at my hand, which covered almost a quarter of his small body, and then back up at me. One eye peered at me in solemn consideration from between his bangs before he nodded, just as solemnly.
I took that as agreement. Unwrapping the bread, I began humming when Legolas leaned back against me. Our luncheon was finished and the day moved on with our only companions the lazy drone of insects and the quiet sound of the horses' hooves on the hard-packed earth. My charge nodded off in sleep, and I slipped a hand across his middle, the better to anchor him so that he did not slide off of the horse. I wasn't entirely confident with this arrangement, however. And so, giving a sigh, I slid a hand beneath his bottom and shifted him around so that I could cradle him in my arms. He stirred and struggled at my touch, one hand locking in my sleeve and the other flailing in the empty air over the mare's neck until his eyes opened and he recognized me.
"Be calm, little leaf. All is well," I murmured as he sagged back into my arms. "I thought only to make you a bit more comfortable."
A few more gasping breaths and his breathing began to slow, his panic fading away as sleep crept up to reclaim him. His eyes closed again, while his fingers tangled once more in my beard. This was new, and a precious trust indeed. Cradling him against me, I took out my pipe, blew on it to light it, and watched my elf sleep.
He was a small armful, far too light a weight for as old as he was. His arms and legs were too skinny as well, but there was a wiry strength in them to match the wiry strength of his mind and very soul. I needed no special power to know that I was holding someone special. Someone who would thrive in the House of Elrond, where books and learning, music and laughter and peace would surround him.
But first, we had to get there.
~ ~ ~
Mithrandir always smelled of the earth and sky and a certain scent that was all his own. When he cradled me against him on our journey from Mirkwood, his beard tickled my nose and I breathed him in. Already, I had come to think of that scent as meaning security and safety. And something else. Something that was perhaps happiness, though I'd never known such a thing before.
He wasn't nearly so frightening now as he had been when I'd first seen him in father's keep. His voice was no longer gruff to my ears, but deep and rumbly and caring. His hands were large and gentle on me, careful of the places on my body that still hurt. Had always hurt, it seemed. His eyes were kind, and even when he was growling he never really felt angry. Not yet, anyway.
I was glad that I'd decided to come with him. My stomach was full, the road was warm, and it seemed that life could be no better than it was at that moment. I wanted to see where we were going, for I'd heard stories of the murky shadows that lived in our wood, of spiders and wolves. Nasty shadows that could take form and make elves bleed. I wondered if the Mithrandir knew that. He seemed very wise to me, and I could sense nothing watching us from the underbrush, so I decided that he must have known how to keep the shadows away. If he could chase away Galion, shadows couldn't possibly stand against him.
I liked being held by him. No one had ever just held me before, not without hitting me after. I'd gotten some brief hugs, but not many, from Theriel when others hadn't been looking, but this holding was an entirely different thing. Mithrandir held me against his heart, so that I could hear its slow tha-thump against my ear if I pressed close, and when he spoke his voice rumbled deep inside his chest. He began breathing fire again, as he had last night, but I decided that the smoke smelled nice, a bit like him. And he hummed. There were no words at first; the words came later, and I kept my eyes closed to listen. If he had known that I was awake, he might have stopped humming. He might even stop holding me, and I wanted this moment to go on forever.
I must have slept, for it was dark when I opened my eyes and sat up to discover that we had stopped moving. I scrubbed at my eyes with the back of my hand, feeling strange and disoriented.
"We'll camp here for the night, little leaf." Mithrandir spoke quietly, as if not to disturb the night.
I sat up on his thigh and stared down at the ground. It glowed in the moonlight, just as it did in our forest back home. Gathering myself, I started to jump down. A broad hand around my middle stopped me just as I launched myself forward.
"Here now, that's no way to do it. Let me give you a safe hand down."
"Hurts," I gasped, clutching at his fingers wrapped around my waist and trying to draw away. Mithrandir had only meant to catch me, but his big hand pressed firmly against my bruises, and I couldn't stop my response. My middle always hurt. I braced myself for the sick feeling in my stomach that always followed the shooting pain.
Mithrandir's fingers were warm on my middle. Instead of feeling sick, I felt a warmth spread through me.
"Hmm, yes.... Of course it must hurt and just there. I'm sorry, little leaf. I was careless. I won't forget again. Here now, can you move up against her withers and wait a moment while I dismount?"
"Yeth."
He lifted me carefully and set me astride the base of her neck almost, and I clung to my mare's mane, wobbling on my thin perch while Mithrandir slid off behind me. And then his hands were around my middle again, and he was settling me gently on the ground.
"If you'll gather a few sticks -- only a few, we don't need many -- we shall have a fire and a hot meal."
I nodded, eager to please this gentle giant who was my new friend. No one had ever spoken to me as he did, as if I were already an elf grown, ready to sit at my father's table.
"Don't go far."
His voice seemed carried by the very wind as I started off into the shadows. Mithrandir set off in a different direction, toward the edge of a small grove of trees, skirted by brambles. Yes, that was good, I decided. He knew about setting our backs against the brambles, so that nothing could come up on us without us knowing. That was important; things had always gone wrong when I couldn't see Galion or my father coming for me.
I listened to the dark for anything that didn't belong in the woods, just in case. I could sense the night-birds and small animals, the same as back in Mirkwood, but nothing scarier. Even they sounded at peace tonight, as though they didn't mind our being here. I grabbed the biggest sticks I could carry and quickly trotted back to Mithrandir. He was busy rummaging around in our bags and was singing softly to himself again. I knew the words to this song now, and I mouthed them along with him, but I didn't dare let the sound escape. I liked listening to him more than I liked singing.
He didn't seem to notice that I was back, so I dropped my sticks and cast about for stones. They were easy to find, and I quickly drew together a ring of stones that glowed in the moonlight. Piling my small offering of wood within it, I waited nearby until Mithrandir turned and noticed.
He smiled at me, surprised and pleased, and it made me feel warm inside to have done something right. "That's a fine fire ring."
Kneeling beside me, he muttered a few words that I didn't understand and gestured across the ring. My wood burst into flame, and I leaped back in surprise. I didn't know anyone else who could make a fire just by waving their hand. Mithrandir could breath fire and make fire by pointing at things? I realized then that wizards weren't elves, and they weren't men. I thought maybe wizards were fire beings of some sort. He smiled at me, as though having fire jump up from the ground like that was perfectly ordinary, so I tried hard to pretend it was something I'd seen many times before, even though it wasn't and my heart still pounded in surprise.
In only a few minutes, he'd warmed our dinner over the fire. There was more bread and cheese, milk for me and wine for him. It was nice of him to warm the cheese so it was softer. It was hard to bite things now my teeth were gone. He noticed that, too.
"When did you lose your teeth?"
I was afraid he'd ask that. I felt so ashamed of having lost them. I shrugged and stared at the fire.
"Was it just recently?
I nodded, then felt the need to confess my guilt to him. He probably already knew anyway. "Broke 'em."
His eyebrows rose high, but he didn't look angry with me for my carelessness. In fact, he looked like he wanted to laugh.
"I sthole an apple an'… an' they sthuck innit an' came off."
He did laugh then, a soft and growly and rumbly sound, not upset at all. I stared across the fire at him. Why was this funny?
"Little leaf, they're * supposed * to come out."
He was laughing at me. I didn't like it. I'm not stupid, and nobody else I knew had teeth come off like that.
"No, they're not," I argued.
"Yes, they are. All little boys' teeth come out and new ones will grow in their place. It's a sign that you're growing up."
"Everybody elth hath teeth." I was talking too much, but I didn't care. He was laughing at me.
"That's because they grew back in," Mithrandir explained. "If you feel right there, where they came out, I'll bet that you can feel the new ones just under the skin. Is there something hard there?"
I poked at the gap hesitantly with my tongue and stopped, startled. There was something hard there. It hurt to press on it, but it felt good at the same time. I put my finger there to rub at it and to get a better feel of this strange thing.
"I thought so," my wizard said. "You'll have new teeth in just a few weeks."
Mithrandir had made so many miracles in just one turn of the sun, and now he'd even managed to give me back my teeth. I just stared, overwhelmed.
He continued, "The rest will fall out too, and—"
"ALL of them? ALL my teefs?!"
He laughed again. "One at a time, little leaf, just as nature intended. You're growing up just fine."
I wasn't too sure about that, but at least the front ones would come back. He left me exploring my changing mouth while he put away our things in the saddle packs and secured the fire. Afterward, he came around the fire and wrapped me up in his cloak and we looked at the stars. He told me things about them, but I was so sleepy I didn't remember what he said. I remember him shifting down on the hard earth and lying flat so that I was spread out over him. He was warmer than any bedding and softer than any tree I'd rested in. His arms lay heavy across my back, but I'd never felt so safe in my life.
I awoke once in the night, confused by the rumbling beneath my head and panicked to think he'd been injured in some way. But I remembered the sound from the night before, as I'd been held safe in his arms in the chair before the fire: he was snoring again. In only a few minutes, I decided that his snoring felt safe, too, and fell back to sleep.
~~~
I awoke in the chill morning air, with rain pelting my face and the front of my robes already wet. As for Legolas, he was nowhere to be seen. Fear gripped my heart as I climbed to my feet, sweeping the area for some sign of him. It was a hopeless effort, for the mist had rolled in to obscure everything in a heavy gray fog that made visibility impossible.
"Legolas!" I called into the mist as I gathered staff and sword, preparing for the worst. He didn't answer me, though it was foolish of me to think he would. I could sense no sign of him.
"LEGOLAS!" I called, a bit louder. Muttering beneath my breath, I paced in a circle, wishing I knew what direction to search in first. Wishing to the gods themselves that I'd had the foresight to warn him not to stray from my protective circle, wishing that I'd awoken before him.
Whirling once more, I nearly ran over him as he was standing behind me, his eyes gone wide with dread. Shivering in the rain, he folded his arms around himself and stared up at me, blinking as rivulets ran into his eyes.
Kneeling, I grasped him by the shoulders. "You mustn't wander off. It's not safe."
If anything, he shivered harder. He tried to pull away from my hands, and I closed my fingers to hold him in place, dismayed that my shouting had rekindled his distrust.
"I didn't mean to frighten you."
What was strange was that he didn't appear frightened. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and slid his hands down before him, but he didn't look afraid. If anything, he looked… desperate. He shook his head and tried again to free himself from my grasp.
"What's wrong?"
He all but danced in front of me, his hands covering his crotch before whispering, "Hafta pee…."
So that was where he'd gone? Closing my eyes at my own stupidity, I turned him about and pushed gently. "Go then, little one. But not so far that the mist swallows you up."
He trotted a few steps forward before I called him back.
"No further than that, Legolas. Not in this mist."
He obediently halted and messed about with his leggings, then cast a displeased look over his shoulder. I could read his expression plainly: Are you going to watch me?
I was, indeed. I wasn't about to let him out of my sight again, not in this forest.
"No further," I cautioned firmly.
Elven modesty and privacy were violated and he wrinkled his nose at me, but he obeyed. A cold rain began falling in earnest. The outer layer of my cloak was already soaked, and we had another day and half a night of riding to do. Legolas was fairing less well than was I, for his clothing was thin, not at all resistant to the elements, and we had nothing at hand to replace it. He returned to me quickly, with his teeth chattering and his lips turning blue. Swirling my cloak about his small shoulders, I set about preparing the horses for our journey. In a matter of minutes, I'd retrieved more bread and milk for our breakfast on horseback, scooped him onto the horse, and climbed up behind him. Retrieving my cloak, I wrapped it around all of us, letting the animal's body heat warm my charge from beneath and wrapping him closer under the folds of my robes.
At last his opinionated mare saw the value in traveling with some speed, and she willingly struck a fair pace this morning, evidently trusting that shelter and feed would be waiting at the far end of this journey. I applauded her logic, for I shared it myself. Hunching against the steady fall of the rain, we pushed on toward Imladris.
The further away from Mirkwood we got, the more relaxed Legolas seemed to become. And the more tense I became. I wanted down these riding paths and through the woods and safe-home to Rivendell as quickly as possible. While, through my magic and Glamdring, I could defend against any arachnid or orc threat, I didn't wish to imperil Legolas. His life and peace of mind were precious to me now; it wouldn't do to introduce him to the dangers sweeping into his father's lands. Not until he was a bit taller, anyway.
Carefully gathering my power, I spun an invisible shield of protection around our little group. I'd slept little the night before and such warding devoured more energy than I cared to admit to, but for the duration of our journey inside my magic circle, we'd be all but invisible to prying, dangerous eyes. And the little elf riding so boldly before me with his fingers tangled in the mare's mane would be safe.
The day continued bright and clear, with us making good time down the road. If I knew Thranduil -- and I thought I had learned quite enough of his moods and tolerances over the past few days -- he wouldn't realize that his son was truly gone until he bellowed for his small victim that night. Hopefully, he'd not send his guard out after us until the morrow at the earliest, perhaps two or three days if Galion was cooperatively silent about matters.
My hat shaded the worst of the sun from my elf's delicate skin. He rode bravely and happily for a time, looking in all directions in an attempt to see everything we passed, until his young muscles tired of riding. A sigh escaped him then as he relaxed further, and I subtly took control of the horse. She canted her ears back in acknowledgment of the slight tensing of my knees, but did not alter her pace.
I suspected that the novelty of the adventure and the new sights from the road were wearing thin on Legolas's small mind. Not only that, his stomach had to be empty, for the bit of bread and honey that had served as breakfast had been swift and light and many hours ago.
Reaching back and down, I rummaged through one of the saddle bags provided by Legolas's friends. Twisting around, he watched me work. Bringing forth two small sweetloafs and a bit of cheese, I plopped them in his lap.
"Hold these, if you will."
His small hands gathered the items in, cradling them carefully against his tunic.
"We'll not be stopping while we eat," I told him. "Rivendell is a two-day journey if we dismount only to tend to necessities and sleep." My hand found a waterskin. I dared to brush my other hand over his dirty mop as it caught in my beard. His hair was unusual now that I saw it in the sunlight; it was dark but with silver highlights that caught leaf-broken sunlight. "Are you thirsty, little leaf?"
I offered the skin; in return, he offered me my loaf and the cheese.
"Here, now. Lean back against me while I divide up our wares."
He did so and drank, though he managed to pour a fair bit of water down my leg as he learned the tricky skill of drinking from a waterskin designed for larger hands. Retrieving my knife, I wrapped my arms around him and whittled away at the cheese. Opening my palm, I offered him the shavings; his small fingers slid calmly over my callused palm to gather them up and nibble on them.
I smiled to myself; how far he'd come since only the night before, to take food from me so easily. He was, as Thranduil had said, all eyes and silence. I found the silence companionable, and a comfortable companion to have on such a journey. Putting away my knife, I laid my hand on his narrow shoulder.
"I'm glad that we met, Legolas. And I'm glad to have you along today."
He cast a look over his shoulder, first at my hand, which covered almost a quarter of his small body, and then back up at me. One eye peered at me in solemn consideration from between his bangs before he nodded, just as solemnly.
I took that as agreement. Unwrapping the bread, I began humming when Legolas leaned back against me. Our luncheon was finished and the day moved on with our only companions the lazy drone of insects and the quiet sound of the horses' hooves on the hard-packed earth. My charge nodded off in sleep, and I slipped a hand across his middle, the better to anchor him so that he did not slide off of the horse. I wasn't entirely confident with this arrangement, however. And so, giving a sigh, I slid a hand beneath his bottom and shifted him around so that I could cradle him in my arms. He stirred and struggled at my touch, one hand locking in my sleeve and the other flailing in the empty air over the mare's neck until his eyes opened and he recognized me.
"Be calm, little leaf. All is well," I murmured as he sagged back into my arms. "I thought only to make you a bit more comfortable."
A few more gasping breaths and his breathing began to slow, his panic fading away as sleep crept up to reclaim him. His eyes closed again, while his fingers tangled once more in my beard. This was new, and a precious trust indeed. Cradling him against me, I took out my pipe, blew on it to light it, and watched my elf sleep.
He was a small armful, far too light a weight for as old as he was. His arms and legs were too skinny as well, but there was a wiry strength in them to match the wiry strength of his mind and very soul. I needed no special power to know that I was holding someone special. Someone who would thrive in the House of Elrond, where books and learning, music and laughter and peace would surround him.
But first, we had to get there.
~ ~ ~
Mithrandir always smelled of the earth and sky and a certain scent that was all his own. When he cradled me against him on our journey from Mirkwood, his beard tickled my nose and I breathed him in. Already, I had come to think of that scent as meaning security and safety. And something else. Something that was perhaps happiness, though I'd never known such a thing before.
He wasn't nearly so frightening now as he had been when I'd first seen him in father's keep. His voice was no longer gruff to my ears, but deep and rumbly and caring. His hands were large and gentle on me, careful of the places on my body that still hurt. Had always hurt, it seemed. His eyes were kind, and even when he was growling he never really felt angry. Not yet, anyway.
I was glad that I'd decided to come with him. My stomach was full, the road was warm, and it seemed that life could be no better than it was at that moment. I wanted to see where we were going, for I'd heard stories of the murky shadows that lived in our wood, of spiders and wolves. Nasty shadows that could take form and make elves bleed. I wondered if the Mithrandir knew that. He seemed very wise to me, and I could sense nothing watching us from the underbrush, so I decided that he must have known how to keep the shadows away. If he could chase away Galion, shadows couldn't possibly stand against him.
I liked being held by him. No one had ever just held me before, not without hitting me after. I'd gotten some brief hugs, but not many, from Theriel when others hadn't been looking, but this holding was an entirely different thing. Mithrandir held me against his heart, so that I could hear its slow tha-thump against my ear if I pressed close, and when he spoke his voice rumbled deep inside his chest. He began breathing fire again, as he had last night, but I decided that the smoke smelled nice, a bit like him. And he hummed. There were no words at first; the words came later, and I kept my eyes closed to listen. If he had known that I was awake, he might have stopped humming. He might even stop holding me, and I wanted this moment to go on forever.
I must have slept, for it was dark when I opened my eyes and sat up to discover that we had stopped moving. I scrubbed at my eyes with the back of my hand, feeling strange and disoriented.
"We'll camp here for the night, little leaf." Mithrandir spoke quietly, as if not to disturb the night.
I sat up on his thigh and stared down at the ground. It glowed in the moonlight, just as it did in our forest back home. Gathering myself, I started to jump down. A broad hand around my middle stopped me just as I launched myself forward.
"Here now, that's no way to do it. Let me give you a safe hand down."
"Hurts," I gasped, clutching at his fingers wrapped around my waist and trying to draw away. Mithrandir had only meant to catch me, but his big hand pressed firmly against my bruises, and I couldn't stop my response. My middle always hurt. I braced myself for the sick feeling in my stomach that always followed the shooting pain.
Mithrandir's fingers were warm on my middle. Instead of feeling sick, I felt a warmth spread through me.
"Hmm, yes.... Of course it must hurt and just there. I'm sorry, little leaf. I was careless. I won't forget again. Here now, can you move up against her withers and wait a moment while I dismount?"
"Yeth."
He lifted me carefully and set me astride the base of her neck almost, and I clung to my mare's mane, wobbling on my thin perch while Mithrandir slid off behind me. And then his hands were around my middle again, and he was settling me gently on the ground.
"If you'll gather a few sticks -- only a few, we don't need many -- we shall have a fire and a hot meal."
I nodded, eager to please this gentle giant who was my new friend. No one had ever spoken to me as he did, as if I were already an elf grown, ready to sit at my father's table.
"Don't go far."
His voice seemed carried by the very wind as I started off into the shadows. Mithrandir set off in a different direction, toward the edge of a small grove of trees, skirted by brambles. Yes, that was good, I decided. He knew about setting our backs against the brambles, so that nothing could come up on us without us knowing. That was important; things had always gone wrong when I couldn't see Galion or my father coming for me.
I listened to the dark for anything that didn't belong in the woods, just in case. I could sense the night-birds and small animals, the same as back in Mirkwood, but nothing scarier. Even they sounded at peace tonight, as though they didn't mind our being here. I grabbed the biggest sticks I could carry and quickly trotted back to Mithrandir. He was busy rummaging around in our bags and was singing softly to himself again. I knew the words to this song now, and I mouthed them along with him, but I didn't dare let the sound escape. I liked listening to him more than I liked singing.
He didn't seem to notice that I was back, so I dropped my sticks and cast about for stones. They were easy to find, and I quickly drew together a ring of stones that glowed in the moonlight. Piling my small offering of wood within it, I waited nearby until Mithrandir turned and noticed.
He smiled at me, surprised and pleased, and it made me feel warm inside to have done something right. "That's a fine fire ring."
Kneeling beside me, he muttered a few words that I didn't understand and gestured across the ring. My wood burst into flame, and I leaped back in surprise. I didn't know anyone else who could make a fire just by waving their hand. Mithrandir could breath fire and make fire by pointing at things? I realized then that wizards weren't elves, and they weren't men. I thought maybe wizards were fire beings of some sort. He smiled at me, as though having fire jump up from the ground like that was perfectly ordinary, so I tried hard to pretend it was something I'd seen many times before, even though it wasn't and my heart still pounded in surprise.
In only a few minutes, he'd warmed our dinner over the fire. There was more bread and cheese, milk for me and wine for him. It was nice of him to warm the cheese so it was softer. It was hard to bite things now my teeth were gone. He noticed that, too.
"When did you lose your teeth?"
I was afraid he'd ask that. I felt so ashamed of having lost them. I shrugged and stared at the fire.
"Was it just recently?
I nodded, then felt the need to confess my guilt to him. He probably already knew anyway. "Broke 'em."
His eyebrows rose high, but he didn't look angry with me for my carelessness. In fact, he looked like he wanted to laugh.
"I sthole an apple an'… an' they sthuck innit an' came off."
He did laugh then, a soft and growly and rumbly sound, not upset at all. I stared across the fire at him. Why was this funny?
"Little leaf, they're * supposed * to come out."
He was laughing at me. I didn't like it. I'm not stupid, and nobody else I knew had teeth come off like that.
"No, they're not," I argued.
"Yes, they are. All little boys' teeth come out and new ones will grow in their place. It's a sign that you're growing up."
"Everybody elth hath teeth." I was talking too much, but I didn't care. He was laughing at me.
"That's because they grew back in," Mithrandir explained. "If you feel right there, where they came out, I'll bet that you can feel the new ones just under the skin. Is there something hard there?"
I poked at the gap hesitantly with my tongue and stopped, startled. There was something hard there. It hurt to press on it, but it felt good at the same time. I put my finger there to rub at it and to get a better feel of this strange thing.
"I thought so," my wizard said. "You'll have new teeth in just a few weeks."
Mithrandir had made so many miracles in just one turn of the sun, and now he'd even managed to give me back my teeth. I just stared, overwhelmed.
He continued, "The rest will fall out too, and—"
"ALL of them? ALL my teefs?!"
He laughed again. "One at a time, little leaf, just as nature intended. You're growing up just fine."
I wasn't too sure about that, but at least the front ones would come back. He left me exploring my changing mouth while he put away our things in the saddle packs and secured the fire. Afterward, he came around the fire and wrapped me up in his cloak and we looked at the stars. He told me things about them, but I was so sleepy I didn't remember what he said. I remember him shifting down on the hard earth and lying flat so that I was spread out over him. He was warmer than any bedding and softer than any tree I'd rested in. His arms lay heavy across my back, but I'd never felt so safe in my life.
I awoke once in the night, confused by the rumbling beneath my head and panicked to think he'd been injured in some way. But I remembered the sound from the night before, as I'd been held safe in his arms in the chair before the fire: he was snoring again. In only a few minutes, I decided that his snoring felt safe, too, and fell back to sleep.
~~~
I awoke in the chill morning air, with rain pelting my face and the front of my robes already wet. As for Legolas, he was nowhere to be seen. Fear gripped my heart as I climbed to my feet, sweeping the area for some sign of him. It was a hopeless effort, for the mist had rolled in to obscure everything in a heavy gray fog that made visibility impossible.
"Legolas!" I called into the mist as I gathered staff and sword, preparing for the worst. He didn't answer me, though it was foolish of me to think he would. I could sense no sign of him.
"LEGOLAS!" I called, a bit louder. Muttering beneath my breath, I paced in a circle, wishing I knew what direction to search in first. Wishing to the gods themselves that I'd had the foresight to warn him not to stray from my protective circle, wishing that I'd awoken before him.
Whirling once more, I nearly ran over him as he was standing behind me, his eyes gone wide with dread. Shivering in the rain, he folded his arms around himself and stared up at me, blinking as rivulets ran into his eyes.
Kneeling, I grasped him by the shoulders. "You mustn't wander off. It's not safe."
If anything, he shivered harder. He tried to pull away from my hands, and I closed my fingers to hold him in place, dismayed that my shouting had rekindled his distrust.
"I didn't mean to frighten you."
What was strange was that he didn't appear frightened. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and slid his hands down before him, but he didn't look afraid. If anything, he looked… desperate. He shook his head and tried again to free himself from my grasp.
"What's wrong?"
He all but danced in front of me, his hands covering his crotch before whispering, "Hafta pee…."
So that was where he'd gone? Closing my eyes at my own stupidity, I turned him about and pushed gently. "Go then, little one. But not so far that the mist swallows you up."
He trotted a few steps forward before I called him back.
"No further than that, Legolas. Not in this mist."
He obediently halted and messed about with his leggings, then cast a displeased look over his shoulder. I could read his expression plainly: Are you going to watch me?
I was, indeed. I wasn't about to let him out of my sight again, not in this forest.
"No further," I cautioned firmly.
Elven modesty and privacy were violated and he wrinkled his nose at me, but he obeyed. A cold rain began falling in earnest. The outer layer of my cloak was already soaked, and we had another day and half a night of riding to do. Legolas was fairing less well than was I, for his clothing was thin, not at all resistant to the elements, and we had nothing at hand to replace it. He returned to me quickly, with his teeth chattering and his lips turning blue. Swirling my cloak about his small shoulders, I set about preparing the horses for our journey. In a matter of minutes, I'd retrieved more bread and milk for our breakfast on horseback, scooped him onto the horse, and climbed up behind him. Retrieving my cloak, I wrapped it around all of us, letting the animal's body heat warm my charge from beneath and wrapping him closer under the folds of my robes.
At last his opinionated mare saw the value in traveling with some speed, and she willingly struck a fair pace this morning, evidently trusting that shelter and feed would be waiting at the far end of this journey. I applauded her logic, for I shared it myself. Hunching against the steady fall of the rain, we pushed on toward Imladris.