Chapter 4 - Good Journeys
"Nothing like orc to ruin one's appetite." Prince Legolas of Mirkwood said, smirking as he pulled arrows from the bodies of the dead orcs that littered the ground. Aragorn Ellesar, heir to the throne of Gondor, smiled grimly, cleaning his sword of the orcish blood that tainted it's silver gleam.
"There may be more around, Legolas, tell your men to be wary." Aragorn spoke in human tongue, and directed the statement towards the prince. Legolas glanced once at his band of elvish archers, then shook his head.
"We could smell an orc from Mordor itself; no," he shook his head resolutely. "There are no orcs for miles."
Aragorn shrugged, still tense and ready on the alert. They'd been traveling for three weeks, going ever deeper into the Southern regions of Mirkwood, drawing closer to the darkness that surrounded the fortress of Dol Guldur, the resting place of Sauron's evil. Though they'd run into slight resistance, as was the example on the ground laying in front of them, they'd found no clue of the ruthless and powerful band of orcs that had been ravaging the forest. Despite the calm of the elves, which usually meant peace for the time being, Aragorn felt a chill run up and down his back. Who knew what dark and terrible foes lay in the deep reaches of Mirkwood; even the elves, in all their love of the forest, could not know all the secrets the Great Forest held in keep.
Legolas pulled the last of the arrows he could salvage and then turned, finding one of his archers awaiting him.
"It is clear, your Highness. The Forest Road lies but a few leagues away" The scout and archer, Gilthalas reported, his eyes dark and brooding. Legolas nodded, a grim unsettling feeling in the pit of his heart. He placed one hand on the shoulder of his comrade and nodded,
"We shall move out. I know you worry, Gilthalas, for there is something foul in the air." Gilthalas nodded slightly, a wry smile on his face. He had never been able to hide his thoughts from his liege, his Prince. Legolas continued, "But if we cannot fight it with arrows and swords then at least we will outdistance it."
Gilthalas acquiesced silently, swiftly returning to the band of elves that had accompanied them. Legolas turned to Aragorn.
"Let's go, perhaps we can reach the Forest road by nightfall; there is cover near there. It is a good spot to rest for the night."
Aragorn nodded, setting off.
Their band of skilled warriors included Gilthalas, another scout named Felowin who was keen of ear and sharp of sight, and two deadly archers, Vaolin and Quirathus. They had journeyed together many times; the band of elven warriors with their prince to lead them and the human to bring up their tail, were not easily matched in skill and courage. The pace they set was fast, the elves a blur of motion through the dense trees and the Ranger light of step a pace behind, quickened by muscle and training. By nightfall, they had reached the northern edge of the Forest Road that cut through the woods of Mirkwood to the plains on the other side. They halted before crossing, Felowin far ahead scouting out the area.
"There is an orc ahead; he may have strayed from the earlier group. He is no danger." Felowin reported back, his light head visible only by the bright blue of his eyes. He stood over the band, balancing nimbly among the branches, a murky collage of expressions. "I say we press on, it is not far to a clearing on the other side of the road."
"The road will give us away." Vaolin objected, his voice a high baritone, as he stepped forward towards his Prince. He wore his pale hair close to his head, the long pale strands tied back with a leather thong. In his hand, he gripped the beechwood bow handed down to him from many generations of warriors in his family. "It is wide and who know what creatures traverse these areas in the dark hours of the night."
Legolas turned back to Felowin.
"The road is clear; 'tis a dark night, there would be few to notice, even fewer to threaten us." The scout argued. Aragorn squinted in the pending darkness.
"Let us press on, what travelers there are may be but harmless hobbits. I look forward to a good camp fire this night." He said.
"This road marks the border between the darkness of Dol Guldor and our forests; we know not what goes on within those depths!" Vaolin insisted again, turning to his prince for backup. Legolas regarded the road thoughtfully, then glanced at Aragorn. The human nodded once, then Legolas replied.
"Let us make for the other side, it shall pass more quickly in the dark of night. Anyways," Legolas smiled thinly at Aragorn, much to the archer's consternation. "I too look forward to a good fire this night; the more distance we cover, the faster we shall find this band of orcs that terrorizes our people."
The other elves nodded, while Vaolin clenched his fists and glanced darkly at the human. It wasn't that the elf didn't like the Ranger; not exactly, for Vaolin, who'd at first been mistrustful of the dark Ranger, now regarded the human with a certain amount of respect and awe, if distance as well. It was only the times that Prince Legolas sided with the Ranger that made Vaolin furious; times such as now. It wasn't right, Vaolin thought, that the Prince of Elves should side with a human. A stealthy, skillful human, no doubt, but a human none the less.
As they set out, Vaolin lagged behind, his jaw locked in a grimace of held-back anger. That the prince had chosen the human over one of his own kind had stung, but that Legolas seemed to hold the Ranger in such high-esteem made Vaolin shake with jealousy and anger. What right did a human have of befriending an elven prince? And the boldness of Legolas, to favor a human over one of his own kind; even a human of noble birth!
Upon reaching the sparse undergrowth near the roadside, the elves readied their bows, prepare to launch a deadly-aimed arrow in the direction of whatever poor creature happened to wander the wrong way at the wrong second. Aragorn gripped his sword tightly, the metal glinting in the dim moonlight that filtered in through the crack of trees made by the road. Felowin and Gilthalas, far ahead, had made their way across quickly, disappearing into the darkness on the other side. Legolas glanced down the road, seeing dark shapes advancing.
"Hold." He said, his voice carried to the elven ears of his archers through the roots of the trees adn the petals of the flowers. "Something approaches."
"It is foul, indeed." Quirathus, an older more-experienced elf murmured. His eyes were closed, feeling the forest in his blood and reaching out to ask the trees if friend or foe approached. The peaceful, serene expression and pale, smooth skin of his face portrayed a youthfulness that masked the centuries that Quirathus Leviran had lived. In many ways, Quirathus had been Legolas' teacher and mentor; a skilled warrior in both the bow and the sword, he was invaluable to the band of warriors.
A hush had fallen over the entire forest, causing the animals to hide and the usually spirited forests of Mirkwood to grow dim with fear and anticipation. The usually stalwart and joyous elves were somber and grave; Aragorn felt the approaching spirits and knew the rumors that he'd heard, but dared not believe, to be true.
"Nazgul." The Ranger breathed, his eyes slits in the brightness of the night. "Two of them." Turning, he pulled Legolas beside him. "We must go, Legolas" He said, "We cannot fight the undead."
"Speak only of yourself!" Vaolin lashed out, his elven pride wounded. "My bow will end the lives of whatever comes ourway, no matter how great the danger."
Aragorn's eyes flashed,
"Your bow will do little, Vaolin Uraleth. The Nazgul are immortal, they are the undead who inhabit the fortress at Dol Guldur."
The pale elf glowered, his dark eyes, an unusual deep hazel, smoldered with anger and hate.
"What do you say, Quirathus?" Legolas turned to the older elf, who was watching the distance as the two cloaked riders drew ever closer. They had the advantage for the time, being uphill to the dark beings.
Suddenly, an ear-piercing unhuman shriek sounded out over the still night air, making blood freeze and sending chills through even the stoutest of hearts.
"They know we are here," Aragorn said, his voice touched with urgency. "Legolas, we cannot fight them."
Vaolin frowned angrily, his bow itching to be of use. Legolas turned to the Ranger.
"We shall go up." They glanced at each other for a moment, unheard words passing between the human and the elf.
"But-" Vaolin began, but was silenced by a cutting glare from both Quirathus and Legolas. Scowling, he followed suit as Legolas scrambled up a tree and disappeared into the foliage.
Another screeching wail of inhuman torment tore through the air and the very forest trembled at its roots. The elves shuddered, feeling their beloved trees bending and swaying before the horror that approached. Men, the Nazgul had once been. Men who had loved and learned, men who had once fought for the good and justice of mankind. The Nazgul were supposed to be a myth, a dark tale told by fathers to sons. Legolas crouched near the base, his bow ready to fire rapid death to whomever came to close, undead or not.
"What of our brothers?" Vaolin whispered, his eyes searching the farside in hopes of a glimpse of either Felowin or Gilthalas.
"They will find cover, hopefully." Legolas said, the fear in his eyes betraying the hope he held in his voice. Vaolin scanned the ground, then noticed the Ranger hidden behind a thick patch of underbrush, his sword drawn and ready. A surge of annoyance washed over him.
"Does he think to defend us!?" Vaolin exclaimed, indignity marring his fair features. "I shall not-"
"Vaolin," Legolas snapped, tired off the childish behavior his friend and comrade was displaying, "He cannot," then paused to correct himself, "-will not, climb our trees."
Vaolin scoffed, turning away as another shriek peirced the air. Closer this time, it made the hair on the back of his neck stiffen and crawl as if alive. He shuddered despite himself, though he did not belive that whatever darkness came their way could possibly be the legendary Nazgul. Legolas crept slowly forward, parting the foliage that hid him, his balance unwavering as he peered into the distance. Suddenly, a scream tore the air, this time right upon them!
Thundering hooves roared past, raising a hellish trail of blue-black dust in their path. The forest quaked under the evil that surrounded and drowned, and the very trees themselves groaned under the pain. For a moment, Legolas grasped his head, his breath coming in short gasps. What sort of new evil is this, he thought, that lurks in the depths of Mirkwood? All was silent for a moment, as the Prince crouched deeper into the tree, blending into it's darkness and becoming one. He feared for the Ranger, though he knew Aragorn was more than capable to take care of himself. Aragorn was on the ground, vulnerable to the hellish monsters that had vanished. Then, another spine-chilling bellow tore the air, and the roar of thundering hooves passing them as the metal-clad mounts of the Nazgul bore their masters away into the night.
It seemed an eterntiy as they waited, trying to discern nightmare from reality. Aragorn, hidden deep into the underbrush not five yards from where the Nazgul had passed, let out a breath. The Nazgul....he'd heard only of their evil existence through tales and myths, legends really. To see two of the evil beings, the undead souls of past kings of men, deep in the forests of Mirkwood made him shiver involuntarily. It took much to make the hardened heart of the Ranger quake, and yet the Nazgul made him shrink in fear and terror. Aragorn stood, his legs shaky, then whirled around, his sword ready, as the elves appeared. It never ceased to surprise and irritate him, their silent stealth and movement.
"We must find Felowin and Gilthalas. They are awaiting us; we have surely worried them." Quirathus said, starting forward.
"What were those things?!" Vaolin exclaimed, the chilling screams still echoing in his ears. "They are surely not of this world."
"Not of this world indeed." Aragorn said grimly. "For they are the Nazgul-"
"The Nazgul are fairytales, legends." Vaolin interrupted, his eyes flashing. "Stories to be told and passed on from father to son. You dream and imagine, Ranger, for no dead beings inhabit the forests of proud Mirkwood."
"Believe it, Vaolin. For it is true enough." Aragorn retorted. Legolas stepped in, seeing a flame about to ignite into a fire before him.
"Come, friends, for we have brothers who await us."
Casting another heated glance at the Ranger, Vaolin turned, following his Prince across the road and into the forests of evil on the other side. He purposefully kept his pace one step faster than that of the Ranger's, knowing full well that elves had the upper hand when it came to endurance, if not strength.
They set off, gingery crossing the dirt path about ten feet wide, then striding more confidently into the dense forest. The wood elves felt an instant reassurance upon entering the dense forest once more. Legolas concentrated on the fast pace that had been set by Quirathus, trying to forget the unearthly feeling of death that had come over the entire forest. The night no longer held jovial stories by the fire, nor deep calming sleeps of rest. Rather, he would be up late into the night, pondering the new monsters that endangered his beloved realm.
Suddenly, Quirathus stopped. Ahead of the rest, he turned slowly, his eyes wide. The woods were silent, an eerie calm dropping down like a curtain that covered the breath. The dead had crept into the air once more. The older elf breathed hard, feeling the very air he inhaled stagnating and growing thick with evil and darkness.
"Run!" He shouted, turning and disappearing into the darkness ahead. The shrieks of the undead echoed through the forest, drawing closer and closer, until it was almost upon them. Splintering hooves tore up the flora, and with each step, Legolas trembled with the pain of the trees around him. The elves moved swiftly, dodging the trees like lightning; a blur of motion. Aragorn stayed behind, his sword drawn, his dark eyes roving, searching, ever wary of the directions from which the hellish wails came. Legolas reached for his bow, his pale hair trailing behind him. The unearthly cries were soon upon them, and the Nazgul, upon their dark mounts, shrieked their war cry. Aragorn turned, raising his sword just in time to parry a deep thrust of the immortal blade; the blade that meant death to all it encountered. The ring of metal between Aragorn's sword and the Nazgul's blades sounded out through the forest, a cry of terror and sharp, cold steel. Legolas and Vaolin both turned, and in rapid succession, fired two deadly arrows at the second dead being that was approaching from the left.
Struck, it screamed, it's horse towering on it's hind legs, illuminated by the moonlight that filtered through the trees. Aragorn fended off the blows from the sword, careful not to be touched by the death-metal. The hooded rider hissed angrily, screaming in pain as another elven arrow found their mark.
"Go! Go!" The Ranger shouted, turning quickly and sprinting ahead. Seeing the two creatures stalled for the moment, Legolas and Vaolin gripped their bows tightly and resumed their run. Vaolin turned once more, seeing one of the riders gaining one them once more, and shot two more death-blows, before fleeing between the trees.
They ran, as if unspent, until they reached a clearing deep in the forests. The trees were so dense, the moonlight was filtered out and left them in thick darkness. If not for their elven sight, the elves would've been lost. Aragorn, his eyes trained by need and by skill, had to squint harshly into the murky darkness. Quirathus stopped first, scanning the area, before turning to Legolas.
"Shall we stop here, majesty? We have long lost the evil that was on our trail."
Inside, the Legolas dared not stop, his heart still beating from the encounter witht he unearthly being before. He was sure that their arrows had not killed, simply stalling the dark riders. However, he could see the fatigue in the eyes of his fellow warriors, and even he couldn't deny the exhaustion that threatened to overtake him.
"Yes. Yes, we shall camp here tonight and await our brothers." The Prince's voice upheld the confidence that he hardly felt; that Felowin and Gilthalas would follow their trail and rejoin them in the morning.
They set out camp, but dared not build a fire lest it attract the less wanted creatures that inhabited the wood.
"I shall take first watch." Quirathus offered.
"And I second." Vaolin stepped in. Legolas shook his head, knowing that his fellows hoped to lure him to bed then cover his watch; the elves protected the Prince of Mirkwood first and foremost, even to the point of taking over his watches and doling out extra rations. Though touched, Legolas rarely allowed these favors to pass.
"I shall take first watch, my brother." He said, "Then, you Quirathus." He smiled warmly at his mentor and friend. Quirathus looked uncertain for a moment, wanting to press on but too tired to do so. Finally, he relented and dropped down into a soft bed of moss and curled up in his cloak, asleep quickly. Soon, the small clearing was quiet, the two elves fast asleep, though they're open eyes betrayed the slumber that held them in thrall. Aragorn was nowhere to be found, but then it wasn't strange for him to have gone off on his own, most likely scouting out the area.
Legolas settled down on an outcropping rock, wrapped in his warm light cloak, and peered into the dark night sky trying to see which stars were out that night. The trees obscured the view, but if he strained his elven sight, he could barely make out a few twinkling gems amidst the velveteen nightdrop. Thinking back to childhood days, an unbidden memory of Vellesta telling him an outrageous story of stars and a horse that could fly, made him smile. Of course it would be Vella, his green-eyed muse, that would be the only thing to make him smile on this dark night.
He was startled from hie reverie by a sound in the bushes. He turned, one hand on his bow, when Aragorn emerged, something in his hands.
"Aragorn." Legolas said, wondering what he had been doing. "Should you not be asleep? Even the elven endurance has been tested this night."
"Yes." The Ranger smiled slightly glancing at the sleeping elves, "I see. I just went to scout out the area; I found something." Aragorn crossed the clearing and sat next to the elf on the rock, holding out what he had found.
"Blueberries!" Legolas exclaimed, surprised. "I did not know blueberries were in season."
"Neither did I." Aragorn smiled thinly, "I found them small in number near a pond over there." He pointed. "I took as much as I could. It certainly beats the meal we would've had, I'm sure."
"It does, Aragorn, it does." Legolas said, smiling.
They sat for a while, finishing the blueberries then staring into the night sky. The Ranger noticed the agitated air that followed the usual mild-mannered elf and wondered if it had to do with the meeting of the Nazgul.
"It is the undead that bother you, is it not?"
The Prince stared into the darkness, his grey eyes troubled.
"The Nazgul have returned. My father once spoke of them; the right hand of Sauron, the Lord of Darkness. Their return does not bode well for Mirkwood."
"It does not bode well for all of Middle-earth."
Legolas nodded, wondering if the restlessness he'd been feeling for months was unfolding as they spoke.
"I feel there is something to happen, something to change very soon." Legolas laughed softly, a lyrical beautiful sound, out of place in the dark murky woods. "Perhaps it is only the throne that tightens it's hold on my neck."
"Is Thranduil to pass on soon?" Aragorn inquired.
"No, no." The Prince shook his head, his expression wry. "Not yet, and hopefully, never." He sighed, smiling at his friend. "If only to be but a prince forever. I should certainly enjoy that notion; you feel this also, my friend." Legolas said, studying the Ranger's hooded eyes.
"Right, again." Aragorn said, thinking of his own throne awaiting him and the great pressure it built in his heart. Part of the reason why he craved adventure so much was for the burden it took off his shoulders; despite the glory it came with, the crown of Gondor was a heavy load to carry alone.
"But Mirkwood needs it's Prince, Legolas, no matter how much we try and run."
"Ahh..too true. And does Gondor not need it's King?" The elf retorted, grinning. Aragorn stretched, the aches in his bones prominent, his dark hair hiding his mysterious eyes.
"And yet, we shall run for now, is that not right, Legolas?"
"We shall run for as long as we can." The elven prince said softly, his eyes traveling to the gilded emblem of Mirkwood carved onto his dagger.
"Tell me, Aragorn, how you know of these fearsome spirits called the Nazgul. I, in all my years, have never seen one; nor believed they truly existed outside of myth and child's stories." Legolas asked, intently studying the Ranger.
The Ranger smiled grimly.
"I did not believe it myself until this night. Dark-clad Riders of the Night, as they were described by Isildur in the years passing the War of the Last Alliance. Great kings of men, usurped and twisted, into blind servants of evil. I had thought their presence had left Middle-Earth after the defeat of thier dark master, Sauron."
"As did I." Legolas murmured, remembering the tales his father had told him as a child. The elven prince shivered, drawing his cloak tightly around him. He knew there would be little sleep this night, for his mind was troubled and filled with dark images. Inside, a heart of iron shivered at the thought of the Nazgul riding towards the Palace, towards the people whom he loved and cared for. He imagined his father, brave and strong, succumbing to the mind-wrenching pain of the Nazgul; the sweet-smelling beech trees fallen and burned; Vella led away in chains, her beautiful spirit diminished; Ava in tears, her pale eyes glistening with hopelessness; his kingdom in ruins. "An enemy arises that has armies full of these foul beasts. Aragorn, we cannot let them reach the Forests; we must protect the Palace."
"And we shall, we shall fight for those we love and all that we know." Aragorn said soothingly, seeing the wild dark look overcoming the prince. "It shall take more than two to shake the Elven pride and dash the might of Gondor."
"Perhaps.." Legolas murmured, unconvinced.
The two companions settled in for the night, too restless for sleep, too tired for speech. The dark night enveloped them, each wrapped in his own thoughts of the future. In the deep, clear period before dawn, Legolas stood, stretching, then gazed up into the grey sky and suddenly longed to be home once more. He longed to be in the trees, laughing and joking, to be in his court, surrounded by the nobility of the elves. Then he glanced at his bow and he gritted his teeth, feeling the call of the forest to him. This was where he belonged, on the road; far from the destiny that awaited him.
The band of warriors woke early, just as the sun arose. Vaolin shook the sleep off harsly, half-angry at the prince to have taken over his watch. Breakfast was a sullen, solemn affair, frought with worry the elves felt for their missing brothers, and the growing animosity between Vaolin and the Ranger.
"Shall we move out, Prince Legolas?" Quirathus inquired, shouldering his bow. Legolas scanned the trees, hoping against hope for some sign of either Felowin or Gilthalas. Inside, he longed to call out to his brothers, yet he dared not lest more of the Nazgul be attracted to them.
"We must keep moving." Aragorn said, bending down to shoulder his pack. "The scout and the ranger will have found our trail; they will catch up with us as we move."
"And what do you know of this?" Vaolin snapped, his own worry clouding his rationale. He gripped his bow tightly, his almond eyes narrow. "What do you know of either Felowin or Gilthalas? Are you so ready to abandon them, to leave them in the clutches of evil?"
"I know that if we do not keep moving, the Nazgul will find us once more."
"Us or them, is that what it is?" Vaolin demanded.
"It is what you make it to be, elf." The Ranger snapped. Vaolin's dark eyes sparked with anger. The tension stretched until it was sure to explode in a fiery battle of wills. Finally, Legolas stepped between his brother and his friend.
"Stop this bickering." Legolas commanded, his voice deep and full in the early morning silence. "Aragorn, you are better than this. Vaolin, listen to yourself." The Prince looked at the elf, forcing the tempestuous archer to meet his cool-grey gaze. "Let's move out, Felowin and Gilthalas will find us. If not, we shall split this night and look for them ourselves."
"But majesty-" Vaolin objected. One look from the steely grey eyes silenced him.
One by one, the weary ominous group set out in the grey dawn, the glistening petals of dew the only marking of their presence. And if the brave Prince of Mirkwood felt any misgivings, his cool placid gaze dared not give it away.
