Chapter Six

Laire

            "Give me your cloak." I am barely aware of my mouth moving as the words spill out. Legolas pulls away, taking his lips away from my neck. My fingers involuntarily run to that spot, rubbing it tenderly. He gives me a strange look.

            "Why do you need it?" He asks cautiously, as though he dreads the answer.

            "I'm leaving," I say, standing up and brushing dirt off my breeches. I pause at the look on his face. "I have to, Legolas. I cannot live here any longer." I grab the cloak off the ground, picking willow leaves off of the tightly woven fabric. Legolas aches to protest, it is evident in his eyes, but he sees my determination and puts his head in his hands.

            "Do you need any help?" He mutters despondently.

            "Yes," I say, brushing off the last leaves and swinging the earthy-toned cloak over my shoulders. "I'm sneaking back into the square and taking Úmátimon with me. I need you to get everyone away from the stables. Can you do that for me? Please?"

            My eyes beg him. His fill with unshed tears and he frowns, torn between frustration and sadness and love.

            "Fine," he says resentfully, not meeting my eyes. He stands up and starts to walk away, but I grab him by the arm.

            "Listen to me, Legolas," I say. "I am going to Rivendell. I know the way. Úmátimon is strong and swift, and she will get me there safely." I make him look me in the eyes. "No matter what, I will always find you. When everything is over, I swear on the heavens and the earth that we will be together again. Promise me that you will find me. Promise me," I plead.

            Legolas runs a finger across my cheekbone, gazing vaguely at me, as though he is not seeing me as I am now, but as I once used to be: carefree and happy. Maybe someday I will be that way again.

            "I promise," he whispers, and kisses me hard on the mouth. I let myself linger for a moment before tearing through the trees.

"Dar sí ah enni1," he sighs, just before I disappear.

"I'm sorry, Legolas," I tell the air, hoping the willows will carry my message. "I must go."

            I make myself silent. I barely breathe. My feet seem to float above the ground, and the willow branches move out of my way. I draw the hood of my elven-cloak over my face, letting it cast my entire face into shadow. The colors of the cloak hide me, and if you did not look close enough, you would not see me or hear me at all. The soft, musical voices of elves meet my ears. I can hear my name, spoken with a bit of a scoff. I roll my eyes in disgust.

            I move quickly through the underbrush, cradled and hidden by shadows. The eerie light of early morning distorts the shadows that are draped across the ground, creating shapes that seem to have stepped straight out of nightmares. All of Mirkwood seems to be a nightmare, with the thick blanket of slowly drifting fog, the twisted branches reaching out like hands frozen in motion, and the deep black marshes that border the eastern side of the forest. It is some sort of cruel irony that elves, fairest of all creatures, chose to dwell here. My heart yearns for the days when we are through with living in Middle-Earth. Soon we will dwell in Valinor, the undying land of the elves. All will be well. Until then, though, I must concentrate on getting to Rivendell.

            The stables are in view. I can see Úmátimon from here. Her wild brown eyes meet mine and I smile, putting a finger to my lips. She nods as though she understands but stomps impatiently anyway. I sigh gustily.

            Legolas's voice, loud and urgent, drifts through the trees.

            "I cannot find her!" He says. "There were arrows…and blood…I fear…I fear…"

            "You fear what?" Someone's voice comes after his, high and cold. I do not listen to the rest. I slip into the stables and unhook Úmátimon. I swing my bag, which I had filled with everything I needed a long while ago in hopes that this day would come, over my shoulder and silently urge Úmátimon on. She tosses her white head and trots silently through the forest.

            "Noro lim, Úmátimon , noro lim! 2" I gasp. I can hear shouts. They know I am leaving. Any moment now, they will find me. All my dreams of freedom will disappear. I spur Úmátimon on, begging her to ride as fast as she can. The willows long hands reach out for my face and arms, threatening to tie me down. I wave my arms and force them away.  Nothing can stop me now. I am almost free. The wind is in my face, in my hair. The birds beckon, lending their sweet, sad voices to the angry Elvish shouts and the wails that I am sure belong to my father and Nárello. Together they weave and mix into a bittersweet song. The song of freedom.



1 Dar sí ah enni- Stay here with me

2 Noro lim, Úmátimon, noro lim!- Ride faster, Úmátimon, ride faster!