Author's Notes: If you're wondering about the horses' personalities, well, after I started writing, Asfaloth started reminding me of my mother's horse, ironically named "Sweet Pea". So he won't be letting his grudge of Legolas go anytime soon. Arod is a lot like my horse, "Pixie", only Arod is a little more playful. Gaernell is like Pixie as well, actually.
Chapter 4: Immortal Illness
Legolas and Arwen slept for over an hour while Glorfindel slept. The day grew warm quickly and just as quickly made them comfortable and drowsy.
"I will patrol," Legolas said, shouldering his bow and quiver.
"Very well," Arwen replied, lying under the cover of the trees bordering the meadow. "Rouse me if you tire or wish for company."
He left her and climbed an old oak tree, reflecting idly back over the two hundred or so years it had taken to mature. The Prince sprang lightly from treetop to treetop, and in so doing got a good feel of their surroundings. He noted, off in the distance, what he believed to be a small town.
Legolas settled at last on a high, sturdy limb. He listened complacently to the chatter of the forest until, faintly even to his ears, he heard the ethereal songs of his people. He almost called out to the Elves as they passed, but something stayed his tongue, and they moved on, never noticing the three travelers.
Legolas knew where they were going; his heart longed to follow them. Slowly, his eyes wandered to the road his kindred had taken, dreaming of what they'd see ere they sailed. What must they be feeling? Certainly not what he was; for them, their time here was spent, their cares soon to become a distant horizon, no more than a dull throb when they searched their memories of Middle-earth. They could give in and abate the sea longing.
He gaze fell over dark shining hair, speckled by small, sunny openings in the green canopy over her head. Arwen. He felt the same trill of gladness and honor he always did when he saw her, but it was now enhanced with wonder at how she could give up her journey West.
Glorfindel woke with a slight grunt and blinked a few times, the reflexive action of one finding things not as they should be. Legolas could pin down the moment Glorfindel remembered where he was. The blind Elf turned his head as if to look for his companions, another reflexive action. Asfaloth was asleep with his front hooves in a small stream, else the horse would immediately have run to the Elf's side.
The same silence that had stolen Logolas's ability to call out to the Silvan Elves kept him from drawing Glorfindel's attention. For a moment, Glorfindel looked as if he were going to stand, but the determined, thoughtful expression evaporated into the humid afternoon. He leaned his head against the tree behind him and shut his eyes.
Legolas knew that it was one's eyes that were considered the windows of the soul, but what he saw in Glorfindel was spread through every part of his countenance. Emptiness replaced the commitment he had seen only a moment before. He knew that, had Glorfindel the choice, he never again would have risen from the ground, and it panicked the prince.
"Glorfindel!" He leaped down from the trees and sprinted towards him. "I began to wonder when you would tire of your rest."
"Tire of my rest?" Glorfindel repeated, with a bemused laugh. "Tis an odd thing to say." His smile faded. "But I must admit it is the reason I awakened."
"But fair Arwen has not. Come with me, that we may speak and not disturb her."
"Nay, Legolas. I would go with you, but..." he shook his head slightly. "Nay. I find myself comfortable here."
Arwen stirred and stretched. "Ah, you two! Hardly quieter than cave trolls. Well, Legolas, did you find aught of interest by yourself?"
"I did. The forest here is lively; whatever may have come upon it this past year, it has found peace."
Arwen smiled, feeling the warmth and hospitality that dwelt around them as well. She turned her face towards the sun and then back to her friends. "There is still much light left in this day. Glorfindel, do you wish to move on?"
"We travel to Gondor for your sake, Lady Arwen. If you desire to leave, we shall."
"There is a town many leagues from here; we would reach it shortly after dark, if we do not stop," Legolas said.
"Then we shall ride on," Arwen said.
"Tol enni, Arod!" Legolas called. A copper head appeared over the brow of the hill. He shook his honey-blond mane, tossed a glance over his shoulder, and looked eagerly back at Legolas. "Nay, my friend, I need you here. Tog Asfaloth."
"He will still come if I call, Legolas," Glorfindel chuckled.
"You make a valid point."
Arwen laughed softly. "Stay here, then. I am going to Gaernell; perhaps he, too, has found something of interest, beneath the trees."
Asfaloth was awake, Legolas and Arwen could see, but he was waiting for Glorfindel's call. Or perhaps to find Legolas alone, judging by the wicked glares he sent the Elf every now and again.
Arod stretched his nose towards Arwen as she passed, was wisely ignored, and finally decided to join Legolas. He was met with affectionately scolding words, and then the Elf climbed easily onto his back.
It was a struggle to get Glorfindel mounted on Asfaloth again. Rivendell's streets had been significantly smoother than what they were standing on now. Every time he fell, Glorfindel silently let Arwen catch him, hold him up, and attempt to place him back on his horse. His frustration became evident in his sightless, pale eyes; beneath that, even after they had succeeded, something else brewed, which Legolas did not wish to think long on.
The sun was setting two hours later, and Glorfindel lagged slightly behind. Asfaloth was a gentle mount, however, and of all horses could be trusted not to let him fall, at least without enough warning to Legolas or Arwen.
The soft plodding of Asfaloth's hooves abruptly stopped. Legolas and Arwen turned, as Glorfindel murmured, "I hear something. They come near...they speak of...I cannot decipher it. Their voices...their voices are harsh, mocking..."
"I hear nothing," Arwen said. "Legolas?"
He shook his head. "Nor do I. Can you point out their direction, Glorfindel?"
"No. They are too faint. They no longer speak to each other, in any case." Asfaloth walked on. Glorfindel would ever be oblivious to the alarmed stares his friends gave him.
They reached the edge of the town shortly after the moon had risen to its peak. It was a bright night; their breaths shone like silver clouds in front of them, and for miles about everything was clear and beautiful.
They could see easily the streets stretching from one end of the town to the other. None walked them except a group of small dogs, and some men staggering drunkenly home. In defiance of the night, the town itself was withdrawn, without a friendly atmosphere, or a touch of welcome.
Elves' endurance far outlasted that of most other creatures on Middle-earth. Had the Orcs been kinder with Glorfindel, the three would have passed the town by. But kindness is not in the nature of an Orc, nor is mercy, and never was there pity.
He had tried not to show it before, but more and more frequently, Arwen and Legolas heard Glorfindel gasping, at first in pain, and then as if he were losing his breath.
"I will ride ahead and search for a room," Legolas said. Arod galloped into the town, stopping only when they found an inn.
The dining area was crowded and smoky; every patron was speaking, or in some cases, yelling, to one another. Once Legolas shut the door behind him, all eyes turned on him.
He met their gazes steadily. "I wish to speak with the landlord."
A stocky gray-haired man walked out from the kitchen, wringing his hands on a stained apron. He did not introduce himself as anything but 'the Innkeeper', and offered Legolas the only available room. Fortunately, the inn's stables were mostly empty, and there was room for the horses as well.
Legolas knew that he was probably the first Elf this town had ever seen. He dreaded their reaction to Glorfindel.
"I have found us lodging," Legolas said somberly when he returned to Arwen and Glorfindel. "It is small. I do not think that we shall find much peace during our stay, the way the Men there marvel at the presence of Elves, but we have no choice left."
Glorfindel was leaning over Asfaloth's neck, clinging to the silver mane; his face was the color of cold ashes. He seemed not to notice what Legolas said.
The moonlight glittered on Asfaloth's coat and the cobblestoned under his hooves. It caught the scars on Glorfindel's face, and they were bone white in that darkness.
Arwen gravely laid her hand on his shoulder. "He needs rest. It does not matter where, so long as we reach it soon. If they trouble us, the wrath of Gondor will be upon them."
Glorfindel uttered a low moan. Legolas's fair face was taught with worry. "Follow me. It is not far."
Tol enni: "Come to me"
Tog Asfaloth: "Bring Asfaloth" (Yay! I remembered this time. Not everything Legolas said to Arod is translated into Elvish because...I'm lazy...but in my defense I wrote some of an assignment today in Elvish!)