Chapter 8 -Stone Trolls and Goblins
Early the next morning, Legolas rode out from Imladris accompanied by Aragorn and the twins. The part of the Trollshaws where Bilbo's trolls had had their lair was about two day's journey from Rivendell. They followed the road west from the Ford of Bruinen, where it lay in a deep cutting under steep banks. Gradually the path rose, following a line of hills between the valleys.
In the early evening they moved off the road into the woods to the south. Elladan and Elrohir often stopped at this place when journeying, and a small spring welled up beneath a low cliff that sheltered the clearing from the prevailing wind. Flat stones had been placed around the spring to keep the surrounding ground dry and mud free.
There was a small store of fire wood stacked below the cliff for times when rain made it impossible to collect dry wood. Today, however, the weather was mild, and they quickly gathered enough wood to keep a small fire going throughout the night.
They drew lots to keep watch. Elladan and Elrohir had quickly learnt not to keep Aragorn from the rota - he refused to accept that mortals needed more sleep than elves - and Legolas was beginning to agree with their conclusion. It was far less trouble this way.
For a while the four sat by the fire while the night deepened. Elladan was recounting the dwarves' visit to Imladris after they had met the trolls.
"And Estel was absolutely fascinated by them. He spent hours and hours talking to them about the Lonely Mountain, dragons, and the quest. I know he'd have tried to go with them when they left, he was determined, but for one thing ....."
"What was that?" asked Legolas.
Aragorn took up the tale. "Well - I'd heard them talking about a treasure hoard, and a secret map. The night before they left Elrond was in his library, talking to Thorin. I decided to climb up a tree outside the windows to listen, I wanted to find out more. I was only ten years old, I thought I could find the treasure before they did! The trouble is, I was too far away to be able to hear what they were saying."
"So he crawled along a branch to get closer, but it broke, and he fell and broke his arm!" Elrohir finished.
Legolas gave a snort of laughter, but then sobered. "That must have hurt."
"It wasn't fair." complained Elladan. "Father was furious with him about it, but decided he'd suffered enough. So he blamed us for not teaching him to climb properly!"
"No good ever came to anyone who eavesdrops." said Legolas sagely.
Elladan stared at him disbelievingly. "Are those your own words of wisdom, or someone else's?"
"Mithrandir told me that."
Elrohir grinned, and gave him a knowing look. "Why? What had you done?"
"Well - I was hiding on the balcony outside my father's study once. He and Mithrandir were talking about the Last Alliance, about my grandfather - I wanted to hear too. Of course, Mithrandir caught me!"
"What happened?"
Legolas grimaced. "My father told me that I'd let him down, that it was a disgraceful and dishonourable thing to do, unworthy of the lowest servant, and especially a prince." He could still recall the burning sense of shame he had felt at the end of his father's lecture. "But it worked - it was something I never did again! I remember Mithrandir said it would punish me properly for listening."
They continued reminiscing about childhood misdemeanours long into the night, including some involving Arwen that astounded Aragorn. Elladan recalled an escapade that had something to do with climbing across the rooftops of Imladris that not even Elrohir had known about. For the elves it was all a very long time ago, but it was all much more recent for Aragorn. His foster brothers knew nearly all his guilty secrets, but for his sake they refrained from describing some of the more embarrassing episodes.
The fire was burning low, so after stoking it for the night, they settled to sleep. Elladan was taking the first watch, and as he fell asleep Legolas could see him silhouetted against the faint firelight.
When they awoke the next morning there had been a frost in the night. The grass was crisped white, and ice had formed where the spring splashed onto the stones. Their breath hung in the still air. The fire had gone out, but there was enough heat in the embers for Aragorn to stand over them, warming his hands.
"It's all right for you," he grumbled. "You never feel the cold!"
It took Legolas little time to rekindle the fire enough to heat a kettle of water. He made hot drinks for all four and handed them round. Although he did not particularly feel the cold himself, it was still comforting.
Riding swiftly, they reached the place where Bilbo and the dwarves had encountered the trolls. There were three of them, one bending down, the other two staring at it. Legolas looked at them for a moment. "They look different to the ones we fought," he said at last. "Are there different sorts of trolls? Different species?"
"There could be," agreed Elrohir. "You're right, these are smaller than the ones we saw. I think these are wood trolls, ours were stone trolls. There are cave trolls as well. They live in darkness all their lives, so they grow to huge sizes, far larger than the other breeds. They must be far harder to kill, because they have no need to fear the sun."
Legolas exchanged a glance with Aragorn. The five trolls they had battled against were bad enough. "Well, I hope never come face to face with a cave troll," he decided. "It would be bad enough being in a cave, never mind the troll!"
They returned to Imladris the next day. After a final meal with Elrond and the others, Legolas left on a sharp, frosty morning. Smoke from the fires rose straight into the air and layers of mist hung in the valley.
"If this weather holds, it will only take about six days to return home. With Pavisel, if necessary, I could do it in five."
"What's the rush?"
"No rush. There's no need to press on. Six days will be soon enough. It will be good to be home."
~*~*~*~*~
Two days after he had left Rivendell, Nifael rode higher and higher along the High Pass over the Misty Mountains. The trail was wide here, and unclear, littered with scree and loose rock. To the left the track broadened and flattened, levelling off onto more solid ground.
Turning in that direction he missed the narrower path that climbed still higher, and over the pass.
It was some time before Nifael slowed his horse and looked around. His route did not look familiar, and he was unsure of where he was. He paused uncertainly, looking back at the path he had been following, and then ahead. Above him a cliff rose on one side, pock marked with caves. On the other side the trail fell away steeply, strewn with debris from the cliff above. Beyond that there was a sheer drop to the plains below. Nifael halted, wondering if the trail continued around the corner of rock that blocked his view.
He was unaware that he was being watched.
In one of the caves above him two orcs watched curiously. Their lair was safely off the main track, where there was less danger of discovery. They were unused to seeing travellers here.
The elf below them was alone, hesitant, easy prey. It was the perfect place for an ambush.
One of the orcs stealthily reached for a bow. It sighted carefully, and fired, letting out a grunt of satisfaction as the arrow struck home. It fired again, but the elf had already fallen, and the horse was disappearing back up the trail.
Nifael had no warning of the attack. Sudden agony flared as the arrow hit his back, sending him toppling forward off Morlai. Dazed, he was only partially aware as he slid and rolled down the slope. He tried to grasp at the stones, but they were loose, and fell with him. He could not prevent a gasp of pain as his fall jarred the arrow still protruding from his back. Suddenly he realised that beyond the slope the ground fell away into nothingness. In desperation he twisted, unable to prevent his fall, but angling his body, trying to reach a spur of cliff jutting out below and to his left.
He hit the rock with sickening force, driving the arrow deeper. His head jerked back against the stone, and he was plunged into darkness.
From the shelter of their cave, the orcs watched, then scrambled down to the track. Their attack had not been as successful as they had hoped. The horse was long gone, and they had not yet captured the elf. They stood on the path, gazing down at the motionless figure far below.
"Well? You goin' down there, Fangar? If we get it back here, we could have some fun with it!"
"Looks dangerous. You go. Why did you let the horse escape, anyways?"
"Me? You should have shot it first!"
"But then that damned elf would prob'ly have shot us!"
"Are we goin' down to get it, or not?"
The larger of the two orcs looked down the slope doubtfully. "Looks like it's prob'ly dead already. No point getting it, they're no fun dead. Shame."
They turned away, and then spotted the pouch Nifael had been carrying. Tearing it open, they investigated the contents. First they found a rolled sheet of parchment. Unfurling it, they peered uncomprehendingly at the flowing Elvish script.
"What's this?" said Fangar at last.
"Dunno. It's no use to us." Gordur crumpled the sheet in one huge fist, and threw it aside.
There were some strips of dried meat, which they sniffed suspiciously, and then ate. There were also several flat cakes, wrapped in leaves. Gordur sniffed again, broke off a section, and tried it. With an exclamation of disgust, he spat the mouthful out, and dropped the cakes in his hand to the ground, treading them into the dirt.
"Filthy bloody elves! We can't eat this!"
There was nothing else of interest in the pouch, so they dropped it back on the trail again, and shambled off back to the cave. Far at the back, out of sight of prying eyes and snooping elf patrols, they curled up to sleep.
Outside, night began to darken. A cold wind sprang up, and an icy rain began to fall. Slowly the rain soaked into Nifael's tunic, mingling with the blood that still seeped slowly from the wound on his back.
To be continued
Author's Notes: As promised, here are the replies.
Soledad: always great to hear from a new reviewer. I'm glad you like the trolls and descriptions - something I work hard on. I hope you liked the other stories too!
Treehugger: regarding the troll, how many ways can a troll sneak up on them? And don't forget, Aragorn is only about twenty here - he's entitled to be young and enthusiastic!
arabella thorne: thanks for the comments. I think a troll asleep would be very difficult to tell apart from a rock!
PuterPatty: I'm glad you like Nifael. Don't worry, this isn't gratuitous Nifael torture. There is a vital purpose in this. I decided Arwen should have her turn at the trolls -look at how she dealt with the Nazgûl!
koala: The weapons may have some effect, just not much. Trolls have very tough skin, don't forget. I didn't notice Frodo stopping the troll in the movie with Sting, after all.
ccg: I'm not quite sure why Elrohir is such a flirt in my stories - don't know where that came from! But he doesn't mean any harm.
Earl Grey: Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like the stories. Another Skippy fan!
And to everybody: I'm really glad you like this chapter so far. For everyone who's accusing me of killing Nifael, I haven't!! (yet) *points to last paragraph* - dead elves don't bleed!
See you for the next chapter, 'The Message' soon!