The three horses and the three Elves had formed a tight circle, protection against the numerous beasts stalking them in the woods. The daylight grew stronger, finally showing them their enemy.
The wolves were all roughly the same color, which made it difficult to keep track of how many there were. It was probably a part of the reason they were chosen by whomever had sent them.
"I hear hooves," Arwen whispered. Though they had agreed to speak in Elvish when danger was near, speaking in Sindarin was more likely to draw other Elves into danger.
Glorfindel turned an ear to the sound; as he listened, his fair face grew pale with fear. Then, "Noro! Noro si! Avo dirich adel! Drego!"
Immediately, Arwen began helping him onto Asfaloth's back, as Legolas kept watch for an attack, bow ready, arrow strung. As soon as his companions were prepared, he sprang onto Arod, and followed Arwen and Gaernell, running alongside Asfaloth and Glorfindel.
With a chorus of snarls, the wolves came after them. But Legolas was more worried about the large white creature he had seen; wolves hunted as a pack, requiring each others' help to bring down animals as large as a horse. The panther was lithe enough to bring any one of them down on its own.
"Arwen! Na nin adar!" Legolas called. The dark haired Queen murmured to Gaernell, who veered instantly East, toward Mirkwood.
"It is in sight," Legolas whispered to Arod. "U hae, nin mellon."
The deep greens of Mirkwood flowed into view, foreboding and impenetrable... But not to Legolas, the prince who had long called the trees his home. But no more. The sea now called his name, ever glittering in his thoughts.
Still, when the dark land of his birth was a near, beautiful sight, his heart lifted, and Arod's with it. The three horses pressed forward with renewed speed.
"Tawarwaith en Calentawar ardh, telio, maetho!" Legolas called, as Arod, Gaernell, and Asfaloth came under the shade of the woods.
One or two wolves entered, and were shot before they took three steps.
As Arod was slowing to a stop, Asfaloth turned, shouldering the smaller horse aside. Arod reared indignantly, nearly throwing Legolas. It didn't take long for him to calm Arod, but when he did, he saw the mischievous, vengeful glare Asfaloth gave him ere he trotted after Arwen and Gaernell. Legolas sighed and thought better of dismounting.
"Legolas! Return to King Thranduil, quickly, send archers!" He looked up at Collerusc, a Silvan Elf born in the same year as he. Collerusc motioned to the field, where the wolves had gathered, just out of range. "Never have I seen so many wolves together at once, without Orcs to ride them!" The Silvan Elf was clearly eager and anxious, despite himself.
"I shall return swiftly," Legolas told him.
"Nay, take your time, they amuse me." Collerusc never did tire of watching. Above all else, he enjoyed spying; of course, fighting what he spied upon was a close second.
Legolas urged Arod away, deeper into the woods.
Thranduil smiled as he watched his youngest son gallop to him. The prince had become very fond of the Rohan horse, Arod. Thranduil had offered him one of the swifter, longer lived Elven horses, but after some thought, Legolas had refused.
Originally, he was meant to give Arod back to King Eomer, and he had, but he had also insisted he would rather walk than so quickly replace the sweet, playful horse. Eomer, when he learned of this bond, had returned Arod to Legolas as a gift.
When they had seen each other last, Legolas was passing through with Gimli. The son of Gloin. A dwarf. Legolas was stubborn, but level headed as well, and he surprised the Elves he lived with frequently, through his pranks or imaginative ideas. But Thranduil had never been so surprised as when he saw the dwarf ride in with his son.
"Father! I need archers, on the western border!" Twenty guards came at his call. From the border, they could hear the sounds of battle. "Stay, Arod, keep our King company." He dismounted, and climbed the trees with the guards, quickly disappearing from sight.
Arod watched him go, and then, true to Legolas' request, the horse went to Thranduil and would not leave his side.
Among the wolves and Elves battling, men in dark, or even no armor, rushed in, fighting where they could, or adding to confusion when there were none to attack. Smoke poured from leather bags the dark warriors threw or dropped, obscuring the archers' vision.
When the reinforcements arrived, they began to retreat.
"Collerusc, what has happened?"
"I know not, my prince! Only that they retreat now, fortunately!" The smoke began to clear, and the enemy had completely left Mirkwood. Many wolves lay dead, but no men, and no Elves.
"Galtaur? Galtaur! Where is he?" Collerusc had left the trees, and had joined several other guards. Legolas could not see Collerusc's brother, Galtaur, anywhere. Nor could he find Baranghen or Rochlim or three others he knew besides.
"They are gone," someone said quietly. Collerusc took a minute to ponder this, and then he ran for the fields. Legolas caught him.
"No! No! You cannot go alone! We must tell my father and gather forces." The prince's bright gray eyes searched the other Elves. "Am I understood? We will report to the King."
He was followed without a word.
Thranduil was found in his massive royal halls, speaking with Arwen and Glorfindel. Exploring the stone walls not far behind the King, at odds with the grandeur of the place, was a lean red horse with a golden mane, the only one of that color in all of Mirkwood.
Thranduil looked up as his son entered, allowing a grateful look to cross his face. "Legolas."
"Telio, Arod," Legolas murmured. Surprised at the Elf's reaction to what normally would have brought peals of laughter, Arwen turned and looked at him. Arod sensed the grim mood of the prince and came to him immediately.
Thranduil knew Legolas best, and so was the most concerned. "What is it?"
"We are missing several of our people, Father. They were lost in the battle; nay, they are not dead. Men joined the fight, on the side of the wolves. None were slain, though some had not armor. The wolves leapt in the way, taking our arrows for their masters."
"How many Elves are lost?"
"Six."
Thranduil shook his head sadly. "And they are not the first...now the toll is eleven Silvan Elves that have been captured in little over a month. The first were three who were journeying West. I sent two to help search, yet those two, also, disappeared. And now the enemy becomes more bold. They sought even you."
"You have the aid of Gondor," Arwen said quietly. "Say only that you desire it, and we shall help."
Thranduil considered her a moment. "I desire it, and it is needed by more than the dwellers of Mirkwood. I fear the Elves over whom I have stewardship are not the only ones to have been taken away."
"Gondor does not know of what has happened," Legolas said. "And the longer we remain here, the harder it will be to arrive there safely."
"We, my son?" Thranduil frowned slightly.
"Yea, King Thranduil," Legolas met his gaze. "For I was asked to accompany them."
"Few are the times that I have bested you in an argument, Legolas, and I perceive that you shall not give in easily this time. Yet my heart bids me to keep you here."
"There is little good I can do here. I gave my word that I would escort them to Gondor, and to that I will hold true."
Thranduil stared at him, heart breaking. "You gave your word, and I would not have you break it. But neither will I have you taken by these men."
Legolas moved forward, and embraced him. "Then I give you my word that I will not be. When I return, it will be with the forces of Gondor. I have seen you but little over this past year. I plan to come again, and I will bring Gimli as well." Legolas was rewarded with a smile at the mention of the dwarf.
Reluctantly, the prince pulled back. "I am reminded of something he told me, a week ago; which is that the shorter a farewell lasts, the shorter the time apart is. I stall because I have missed you, Father, but what he said is true. We must go."
"Darech band," Thranduil said, addressing all three but looking at Legolas.
"Legolas."
Legolas was finishing packing Arod with the blankets and food his father had given them for the trip. He barely caught the faint, low voice between the forest sounds. "Glorfindel?"
The Elf's milky, sightless eyes made not even the attempt to turn in Legolas' direction. "I do not wish to go with you. I slow you, and this journey was for Arwen and Aragorn, and now for the safety of the Elves." Now he did turn more to the prince. "And I had no desire for travel from the beginning. I went with you to satisfy Lord Elrond."
Legolas had suspected this; it was the reason he had advised Elrond to order Glorfindel to go. He shook his head and slipped his new stock of arrows into his quiver. "So now you have found a suitable reason to stay behind?"
"I would not remain in Mirkwood." He sounded tired.
"Glorfindel, you know that were Elrond here, he would tell you to press on."
"Perhaps not. He does not know of the threat that lies beyond your borders. He would not risk Arwen's safety, not even for I."
"But you do not threaten her safety. Perhaps in losing the keen sight of Elves, you have gained something else. You heard things long before Arwen and I could; at times before we could see them." Legolas watched him desperately, waiting for a reaction. "We will need you, if we are to be hiding from wolves, and all else they have."
"And what else do they have, Legolas? Try to understand this, I cannot aid you in a fight! If it pleases you, I will stand here, and imagine those things you describe to me." Legolas was surprised by the tone of Glorfindel's voice.
"Glorfindel." Arwen had seen the two Elves' conversation, but had waited to interrupt. "Hear me. Much has been taken from you. Neither I, nor Legolas, nor any other Elf, not even the Orcs who once were Elves, can conceive of it. But I am your friend, and no circumstance and no foul creature, not Sauron, nor even Morgoth himself, will ever change it. Ever have I respected you. Do not demean yourself so."
"Demean myself?" he clenched Asfaloth's bridle. "Many songs have been sung about me, in years before either of you were born...and I would leave it that way. I cannot wish new songs to be arranged about me, this time for the scars the Orcs adorned me with!"
"Those are not the songs I would pass on to my children, Glorfindel," Arwen told him. "Your greatness is not forgotten in the least. Each day, you may add to it."
"I do not fear my greatness being diminished," Glorfindel cried.
"Then what?"
"I fear naught that is here." He turned, leaning his back against Asfaloth.
Legolas could see they weren't likely to get anything more out of him. "Then come with us. There is still much you can do for the other peoples of Middle Earth, and we for you."
Silently, Glorfindel pulled himself onto Asfaloth's back. He slipped twice, but Arwen and Legolas knew he would rather fail several times, finding out whether or not he could do it on his own, than simply let them do it for him.
Many scouts were sent out from Mirkwood, ordered to keep to the trees and return the moment they saw a wolf or one of the dark-clad men. The enemy was reported at the Northeast, and again to the West; Gondor was to the South and the East, and so it was decided safe enough to begin the journey.
There was worry and grief in the hearts of all the Elves of Mirkwood as they watched the departure; they held their prince closely in their hearts, and they had loved Arwen since she entered their kingdom; and of Glorfindel they knew many wonderful things.
Each was wary and silent as they rode. The birds chirped between the trees, and the three Elves heard them not.
"Have you readied them for travel?"
"Two were troublesome, but they lie still now."
"Spread out. Send word to the North; I want them to move East. Continue watching the roads." His eyes were soft, deceptively gentle, but Vel Delanir was very far from that image. No one can keep up an act forever, and Vel was no exception. Few things could spark the steel cruelty of his soul, but Ral was certain he had found at least some of those.
Not by personal experience, of course. Had that been the case, there was no doubt in the lieutenant's mind that he would have burned in one of Vel's 'fire pits' long ago. No, he had watched others make the mistake of betraying their spouse...or lying...or stealing. Or, ironically, killing; because in turn, Vel had them executed.
Perhaps executed was too kind a word.
Vel was, strangely, a fair leader more often than not. It was for fear of his own soul, which he still had high pride in, that Ral had given up trying to concoct reasons for Vel's actions. The point was that they always leveled out.
Ral was, in spite of himself, morbidly excited to see where Vel's fascination with the Eldar race would lead. His only true hope was that he would live long enough to see it through.
Vel looked sidelong at him and said, "You will take these here up over the Grey Mountains, set up a camp, and wait for the rest of us."
No questions. Not with the image of the last 'visitor' who questioned Vel still fresh in the young lieutenant's mind. But the crows he had seen...so many crows...feasting in the forest that was not a forest...
"Go, Ral. Wait here any longer and perhaps they ought to drag you. Tell me, would that get you moving?"
"No, Master Vel, it would not. I go swifter on my own feet." Ral swallowed hard, against the bile rising in his throat as he fought those images.
Vel laughed. "Keep things in order while you wait. And I warn you, do not let them sway you. Beautiful they may be, but they are wise, and they will use whatever advantage you give them."
"They will not lead me astray." Ral stood tensely, waiting for his nerves to settle. Vel did not look back, but he and eight of his favored riders disappeared, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.
Ral looked around once, for...Gamphall, that was what it was being called now. Gamphall, whose newest name had come from its own victims. A predator with nearly the same trail of thought as Vel himself.
At least, that was Ral's explanation for why Vel allowed Gamphall to wander where it pleased, while any man under Vel's flag was kept practically in chains.
Foolish jealousy aside, Gamphall was a good omen, and Ral wished it would come ere he dragged so many people over any Grey Mountains. But the white panther did not see fit to grace them with its presence. Ral was stuck with wolves, Elves, and townsfolk.
He wasn't surprised.
Gamphall: it's a name I finally decided on, when I asked my brother to describe a panther without the words "cat" or "fur". It means Clawed Shadow.
"Noro! Noro si! Avo dirich adel! Drego!" means "Run! Run now! Don't look behind you! Flee!"
"Arwen! Na nin adar!" means "Arwen! To my father!" "U hae, nin mellon." means "Not far, my friend."
"Tawarwaith, telio, maetho!" means "Silvan Elves, come, fight!"
"Darech band" means "Stay (remain) safe."