Legolas had no idea how far he was carried by the torrent. He was dragged under the water, tossed and turned by the flood, whirling along like flotsam. At length he was able to kick to the surface, gasping for air. Unable to see for more than a few yards upstream or downstream, he struck out towards the western shore on his right, as the current carried him ever further from the ford. At last he was close enough to grip the reeds that grew thickly by the edge of the river, and pulled himself into shallower, calmer water, and then to the bank. On hands and knees, he coughed painfully against the water in his lungs, then lay on the riverbank, heart pounding. As the burning pain in his chest subsided, he sat up and took stock of the situation. He was unharmed apart from scrapes and bruises, though his hands were cut from the sharp edges of the reeds, but was soaked, chilled, and exhausted. He still had the knife on his belt, his quiver - which amazingly still had a few arrows in it - but his bow was missing.
His best course of action was to find what had happened to Pavisel. Even if the horse had not survived, he might be able to salvage the packs Pavisel had carried. First, though, he stripped off his outer clothes down to the thin under-tunic. That would dry quickly, and be less hampering than the wet things.
At length Legolas started back towards the ford. He kept close to the water's edge, looking, watching, for any sign of Pavisel, the baggage, or his bow. Dusk was falling, and he was stumbling with weariness when he glimpsed something lying half submerged, entangled in the reeds by a curve in the river. Carefully he waded, knee-deep, into the water to retrieve it - a long, curved piece of wood, carved into intricate designs, supple and flexible. It was his bow. Breathing a prayer of thanksgiving he inspected it. It was clogged with mud, the string was broken, but it was intact. Back on the bank, he pondered what to do next. As night fell, it would become more and more difficult to see anything washed up by the river, and he could easily miss something important. Besides which, he was more tired than he had been in a long time, even after the return from Dol Guldur. Reluctantly, he decided to stop overnight and wait until daybreak before continuing.
From the reed bed he was able to gather several dead, hollow stems, and many dry leaves, together with clumps of driftwood washed up by previous floods. The debris underneath was relatively dry, so he set about building a small fire. His outer clothing was by now fairly dry, and he sat by the fire, eating the dried fruit and nuts from his emergency rations, feeling more at ease than he had expected. He did not dare to sleep, but sat upright, feeding the flames, drifting lightly into a doze.
A slight sound in the distance brought Legolas fully awake. He kept low, peering into the night, trying to identify the noise. It came again, a soft thud, together with the breathing of a large animal. Not quite daring to believe his luck, he called, the shrill sound of tawny owl. There was an answering snort, and the thudding came closer, sounding irregular. He stood, waiting. Pavisel walked into the circle of firelight, hobbling slightly, and stopped by Legolas. One of the packs which had been strapped to his back had slipped down, and hung under him like a misplaced pregnancy. He quickly undid the straps and removed the pack, allowing Pavisel to move more freely. Carefully he checked for injuries, but Pavisel seemed to have escaped as lightly as he had himself.
He leaned against the horse's neck, revelling in the warmth and familiar smell. He was not sure how long he stood there, murmuring softly, while Pavisel blew warm, grass-scented breath at him. At last he moved, and sat by the fire again, checking the contents of the pack. There was a cloak, a thick wolf skin rug - a gift for Elrond - and half of the food he had carried. His spare clothing and the rest of the food had been in the other pack, but it was enough. Spreading the rug on the ground, he wrapped himself in the cloak and slept - trusting in his own instincts and Pavisel's senses to warn if danger approached.
Shortly before dawn Legolas awoke and stretched. The fire had died, but it was not totally dark - the clouds had cleared and the sky was lightening. Pavisel was nearby, grazing contentedly. When he had repacked the baggage, he and Pavisel rode to the north, towards the ford. From this higher vantage point Legolas could see more of the river. The water level had not dropped, and continued to roar south to the Gladden Fields. Some way downstream he could see the other pack, but it was on the far side of the Anduin. He left it there, and rode on. By midday they had come back to the ford - the near disaster had only cost him one day. With only half the supplies, the week-long journey would not be comfortable, but Rivendell was at the end.
After two days of uneventful travel, they reached the foothills of the Misty Mountains. A further day brought them near the High Pass, which led over the mountains and down into Eriador. It was cold at this altitude, but he did not dare light a fire at night in case it attracted the attention of any wandering orcs. As they crested the pass Legolas paused and looked back the way they had come. He could see the line of the Anduin, and beyond that, away to the east, the dark smudge of Mirkwood stretched to north and south as far as he could see. The Mountains of Mirkwood marched in a line away from him, and beyond them lay his home. Far to the south he thought he could see a darker shadow on the forest which marked Dol Guldur, but perhaps that was only imagination.
He turned to face forward. To the west lay a green country of rivers and hills, gentler looking than the land behind him. Somewhere below, hidden from sight, lay the valley sheltering Rivendell, and journey's end.
As they descended once again the air became warmer. The mountains were not so steep on this side, and the going was easier. Legolas rode through resin-scented pine trees, needles creating a soft carpet on the ground that muffled Pavisel's hooves. At length the land levelled. Ahead lay a high, windswept moorland, purpled with heather, and gilded gold with gorse. As he finally approached the hidden valley where Rivendell lay, he became aware that he was being watched. He could not see the concealed sentinels that guarded Imladris, but could sense them following his trail, watching his every move.
Suddenly a figure dropped out of the trees ahead of him, causing Pavisel to start and give a snort. Simultaneously two elves materialised out of the forest on either side of the track, arrows drawn and pointed at him. Legolas froze. "Ellahir! Is this the way you normally greet invited guests?"
The two guards, on hearing the unfamiliar name, drew back on their bowstrings. Elladan stepped forward and pushed both bows down, with a soft word of reassurance. He looked up at Legolas. "We can never be too careful when a traveller comes down out of the mountains. Especially one who appears not to know the names of the sons of Elrond." He grinned. "It's good to see you again, Leg'as." He turned to the archers. "Go back to your duties. It's all right, this is the son of Thranduil of Mirkwood." Looking a little confused, they turned and disappeared back into the trees.
Elladan gave a soft whistle, and a tall, grey horse moved forward out of the trees. He jumped lightly onto its back, and together he and Legolas rode down into the valley of Rivendell. As they dropped lower, Legolas found himself remembering the sights, sounds and smells of Imladris. The glimpses, far below, seen through the slightly misty valley, of Elrond's halls, formed of living wood and stone. The rush and babble of the Bruinen, the roar of the water as it fell over rocks, into deep and mysterious pools. The scent of the trees, of damp earth, and of wet, mossy stones. He inhaled deeply and gave a sigh. "It's good to be back. It seems a long time since I was last here. Tell me, did Aragorn arrive safely?"
"About three weeks ago. He told me he'd met you at Lasgalen, I didn't realise you were there. That was why I sent you the message."
"Trolls? How bad is it?"
"The worst we've ever had. Mithrandir got rid of the last ones, about ten years ago, but they keep coming down from the mountains." Elladan sighed, shaking his head.
"Were they the same ones Elrohir and I tried to go after?"
"Havens, no. They don't live that long. They weren't too bad, just took the occasional wild pony or goat, but there are five this time, and much more cunning and dangerous than usual. They discovered travellers are easier prey, and often attack people riding alone or even in pairs. Most have escaped, but they killed two messengers from Bree last month."
Legolas pondered what Elladan had told him. During their conversation they had ridden down through the valley and were now not far from the halls of Imladris. Questions and strategies raced through his mind. "Do you know where they come from?"
"No, we can't find their lair. Even if we do, it's almost impossible to harm a troll!" Elladan sounded frustrated. "They're very strong, and have hides like stone. I know you're experienced in fighting orcs, goblins, spiders - and wolves - so I thought you might have some ideas."
Legolas gave Elladan a sharp look. "You've been talking to Aragorn!"
"He did mention something about an encounter with wolves. Among other things."
"What sort of other things?" asked Legolas suspiciously.
"That you told him you were engaged to Arwen."
"I didn't say that! Not exactly!" protested Legolas indignantly.
"So what did you tell him?" queried Elladan, with a gleam of malice in his expression.
Legolas described the conversation he had had with Aragorn. Elladan gleefully demanded every nuance of his foster brother's reaction. As they rode under the archway that led into Imladris, Elladan said "I don't think he was entirely convinced though, because he asked Arwen about it when he returned here."
Legolas stopped dead, nudging Pavisel to a halt. "Arwen knows?"
"Yes. I think she said she wants to see you when you arrive."
His eyes closed, lips moving in a succinct, inaudible curse. Arwen had a formidable temper when roused.
A flight of wide, shallow steps led from the courtyard into the entrance hall. Elrond stood at the top, Elrohir at his side. There was no sign of either Arwen or Aragorn. After exchanging warm greetings, Elrond welcomed him to Rivendell, and Elrohir took Legolas to the guest rooms.
"Supper will be in about an hour. Join us in the Hall of Fire when you're ready." As Elrohir turned to leave, Legolas called him back.
"My father was wondering why Elladan thought I would want to go troll hunting. Did you ever tell Elrond about that particular trip?"
Elrohir laughed and shook his head. "I didn't tell him, no. I suspect he guessed, though. There were always some things he said he didn't want to know."
"I'm not surprised. I can't believe we did that, we were lucky they didn't kill us."
"We were young, and foolish. We're both more sensible now."
Legolas, remembering the chase with the wolves he and Aragorn had had, wasn't entirely sure, but agreed, at least aloud, with Elrohir.
After Elrohir had gone, he washed and changed. There was a gentle tap at the door, and then Arwen opened it, walked in, and shut the door behind her. Legolas was surprised to see her in his room, but greeted her warmly. He was a little wary of her reaction to the news of their `betrothal', but had no intention of mentioning it until she did.
"You don't need to worry about me being here. It's quite proper. We are engaged, after all." Her voice had a definite edge to it, and her expression was cold.
Legolas sighed inwardly. She sounded even more annoyed than he had feared. "Arwen, I'm sorry. That wasn't quite what I said, anyway. It was just .... "
She wasn't listening, but interrupted him: "Why, by the Valar, did you have to remember that ridiculous idea of my father's? And why tell Aragorn about it? What other bright ideas have you had?"
"Arwen, I'm sorry," he said again. "I didn't mean to upset either of you. I did explain to him ..... " he stopped again, recalling Aragorn's stunned and shocked expression, his stumbling words, and could not prevent a grin. He tried to hide it from Arwen - it would annoy her even more - but then realised that she was struggling to suppress a smile of her own. He glared at her. "Why am I apologising to you?" he demanded. "You think it's just as funny as the rest of us!"
She was laughing now, abandoning her attempt to scold him. He hugged her, laughing as well. "Arwen, it's wonderful to see you again, it's been far too long. It must be.."
"You came to the last Lórien Council instead of your father. That was about fifty five years ago. I haven't seen you since then."
Arm in arm, exchanging news, they went downstairs together to the Hall of Fire to join the rest of Elrond's household.
TBC
You need to have read 'To The Ends Of Middle Earth' to understand the Ellahir/Elrodan/Leg'as bit properly. They keep deliberately messing up each other's names.
Many, many thanks to my reviewers:
Treehugger (my most faithful reviewer, the first for this story!) Glad you like my Mirkwood, and the ford/bridge - I thought a description here would help a lot. You'll be glad to note that this chapter ISN'T a cliffhanger (but look out for the next chapter!)
Geriatrics - Great that you like all the stories so far.
oldenufftonobetter - any review, literary criticism or not, is VERY welcome. Thanks!
gemstone: Thanks for your support.
odyssey: I saw your name, and thought 'where have I heard that?' Then I realised I had read (and reviewed) your story last night! You say I have 'real talent' !! Wow! Thanks!! I'm glad you like the descriptions of Mirkwood, I use the books a lot for background detail.
What I do is read Tolkien's description of a place, and build up a picture of it in my mind. Then I describe, in a story, what I can see. So it's not a direct copy of Tolkien's writing, but stays close to his universe. It seems to work!
Wish me luck - I'm off on a school trip to London with around thirty 9, 10, and 11 year old children this weekend. It should be great fun!
Jay