2
When Legolas arrived in Rivendell a week later, he was awed by the magnificent splendor of Elrond's castle. He'd never been here before, and the last time he'd seen his uncle had been at his joining two hundred years before. The great structure of wood and stone rose all around him, the immense, torch-lit corridors echoing with his footsteps. Elaborate carvings adorned the walls and pillars, lions, stallions, and phoenixes that loomed over him. He reached out tentative hands to brush his fingers across some of them, amazed at their craftsmanship. How many eons had passed in the construction of this place? He was about to ask his guide, a merry-faced elf much younger than himself, but before he could, the elf in question opened an enormous black oak door.
"In here, sir." He gestured through the opening with his torch.
He stepped inside to find the strangest conglomeration of beings he had ever seen. His uncle, the proud King Elrond, sat at the head of the circle, his flowing red robes spilling over the edges of the golden throne upon which he sat. To his right sat an empty chair, presumably saved for the Legolas. To his left, Legolas recognized two from the race of men. Beside them sat a stubby, florid, pig-faced dwarf. Legolas could hardly contain his surprise at this. Dwarves and elves had never concerned themselves with one another, and as far as he knew, had never set foot in one another's lands, though they were related in some dim past. The idea of sitting in the presence of this filthy little earth monger and entertaining his opinion made his stomach turn. Frankly, the idea of even involving himself with the race of men made him feel ill at ease. Whatever had necessitated this meeting, he hoped it could be resolved quickly.
"Ah, Legolas," cried his uncle when he saw him, "welcome. Please sit. It is good to see you again. It has been too long." He waved his hand at the empty seat beside him.
Legolas bowed slightly to his uncle and nodded curtly to the others as he sat. An uncomfortable silence passed while the company studied each other. Apparently the dwarf shared his feelings of ill will, because he glared at Legolas with barely concealed disgust. Finally, his uncle said, "So, tell me, Legolas, how are things in Mirkwood? Is my brother well? Have you and Saryn been blessed with many happy, healthy Elflings?"
"My father is fine," he answered, uncomfortable discussing his family in front of that abominable little dwarf. "As for Saryn and myself, we have not yet welcomed any children."
"Ha!" roared the dwarf, slapping his knee. "A leaf-eating tree- coddler who has not yet produced untold numbers of his own line? I believe you're right, Your Majesty, dark times are upon us!" He shook with laughter, rocking to and fro in his chair. The men studied their feet in embarrassed silence.
King Elrond shot him a withering look, and Legolas saw splendid visions of clouting the little worm over the head with his own axe, but before either could react to the blatant affront, the towering door swung open again and the same elf that had admitted Legolas into the room ushered in the fabled Gandalf the Grey and his companion, a tiny, dwarf-like creature none of them had ever seen before. All eyes turned to watch their progress as they entered.
"Gandalf, Frodo," said Elrond rising from his chair. "I am pleased to see that you have come to us unharmed."
"That was a very near thing, indeed," muttered Gandalf.
Elrond nodded, unsurprised. "In any case, you are here now, and that is what matters. Sit. You are tired from your journey." He motioned to a smooth stone bench adjacent to the throne. "Perhaps I misspoke when I deemed you unharmed. How fares your wound, Frodo?"
The creature gingerly touched the shoulder where the wound had been. "I am quite recovered," he responded in a small, soft voice. "Your Majesty is an excellent physician."
The king smiled at the compliment, then turned serious once more. "Now then," he said, briskly clapping his hands, "I did not summon you here for idle chatter. A matter of grave concern has arisen that affects all of Middle Earth. Something must be done about it." He hesitated. "Alas, I am not the man for such explanations. That would be a task better suited to Gandalf." The king stepped back, and all eyes turned to Gandalf.
"Yes," he began, sitting forward on his haunches and grasping his staff. "As many of you may know, there have been strange happenings in the land of Mordor. Mount Doom has sprung to life again after slumbering for more than three thousand years..and Sauron's fortress has been rebuilt." There were murmurs and gasps of surprise at this, but he continued. "I have long suspected why, but my fears were confirmed upon my visit to my young friend, Frodo the hobbit. The Ring of Power has awakened. Frodo, the ring, please."
Everyone watched in fascination as the young hobbit stepped forward, pulling an object from a simple cloth pouch. With a sigh of relief, he placed the ring on a pedestal before the king and stepped back. There was a thunderstruck silence as they surveyed the object of untold lore.
Legolas beheld it with wonder and a little disappointment. The Ring of Power had been the subject of endless speculation amongst he and his friends when they were Elflings. On the canvas of their imaginations, the infamous ring had assumed a terrible appearance befitting its monstrous power. The ring was forged, not of metal, but of blood, the blood of the millions slain at Sauron's hand. It glowed an iridescent red when worn, and when he wished, Sauron could transform the ring into a ruby dragon to set loose upon his adversaries.
Yet there it was, a simple golden band. No blood, no dragon. Just an innocuous piece of metal like the ones human women used to adorn themselves. The hobbit, too, was a bit of a letdown. He had envisaged something a bit more, well, elfin. Instead, he resembled a taller, more couth dwarf.
Beside him, one of the race of men spoke, "If this truly is the legendary ring of power, then let us use it against Sauron! With it we are assured of victory." He clenched his fist, his eyes ablaze with fervor.and something else. Legolas thought he detected a ember of cold greed in his eyes, and he felt his heart drop in his chest. He is the weak link among us, he thought, but said nothing.
"No, Boromir," said Gandalf, dismissing the notion with a wave of his gnarled hand. "The Ring is too powerful. No matter how noble our intentions, it was crafted in evil, and it will work for our undoing. It will find our weakness and turn it against us. No, the Ring must be destroyed, cast back into the fires from whence it came."
"But-," began Boromir.
"But nothing," snapped Elrond. "Gandalf is right. Destroying it is the only way to ensure the safety of our peoples. The only question that remains to us now is who will carry out this momentous task?" He stopped, waiting for volunteers.
"I'll go," said Boromir. "I'm strong enough to brave the dangers of the journey.
"You?" scoffed Elrond. "No. I still remember the treachery of men all too clearly. If it hadn't been for man's greed, we would never have been endangered."
"Then I'll go," announced the dwarf, rising to his feet and hefting up his battle axe. "After all, the best men come in small packages, something your wife would be pleased to discover, eh, tree-coddler?"
"You are not worthy of the sweat from my wife's brow, you repulsive lout!" hissed Legolas, reaching for his sword.
A babel of voices erupted, each man throwing recriminations against the other. Swords were drawn. Gandalf's feeble pleas for peace went unheard. The fragile coalition would've crumbled before it began had not Frodo climbed upon the pedestal and shouted, "EVERYONE STOP!"
Words died in mid-syllable and everyone turned to stare at the exasperated hobbit. "I'll take the Ring," he continued, "I've carried it this far." He hopped off the pedestal, returning the ring to the safety of his pouch.
The quiet determination of the hobbit shamed Legolas. The fate of his world was at stake, and here they were arguing amongst themselves like common hooligans. He sheathed his sword and stepped forward to offer his services, but one of the men was quicker.
"I, Strider, would be honored to accompany you, hobbit. You shall have my sword."
"And my bow," proclaimed Legolas.
"And my axe," grunted the malodorous dwarf, who much to Legolas' dismay came to stand beside him. His hands ached to wrap themselves around the stubby little neck, but he restrained himself through sheer force of will.
"And my strength," added Boromir.
The king was just about to proclaim them the fellowship of the ring when another hobbit toppled through the window. "You can't go without me, Master Frodo," he called. He stood defiantly beside him, staring up at Elrond. "You can't part me from him.
"So I see," muttered Elrond with a dry laugh.
Just as he was about to ordain them the fellowship, two more hobbits came dashing through the door. "You're not leaving without us, Frodo," they yelled.
"Alright, alright!" bellowed the king, throwing up his hands. "You can all go. Are there any other last-minute additions to the party?" When there were no further outbursts, he continued. "Then I hereby proclaim you the fellowship of the ring. You will set out in a week. In the meantime, I invite you to enjoy all the hospitality that Rivendell has to offer." With a final bow, he took leave of the group.
3
Later that night, long after the stars had ascended to their rightful places in the tapestry of night, Legolas sat cross-legged in front of his makeshift bower, a quill in one hand and a piece of dried leaf parchment in the other. His heart longed to be in the arms of his beloved Saryn, their bodies nestled together, the sweet pear scent of her skin in his nose. Instead he was struggled to find soothing words to send her to ease her worried mind.
My Dearest Saryn,
How my heart longs to tell you that I will be home soon, but alas, I cannot. I have been called upon to take part in a dangerous journey that I cannot refuse. I do not know when Fate will return me to you, but I promise I will return. My thoughts and heart will be with you always until we are reunited. Pray for me that I might return home soon, my love.
All my love,
Legolas
He rolled up the scroll and sealed it with the wax crest of King Elrond. He knew it was hardly sufficient, but it would have to do. "Guard," he called out to the sleeping form below. He heard grumbling and clatterings as the sentry trudged up the hill to where he stood.
"What?" he rasped. His eyes were puffy from sleep.
"Take this letter to my wife, Saryn, in Mirkwood."
"Now?" he whined?
"Yes, now," he barked," and if you do it quickly, I'll throw in a few gildnar and forget to tell my uncle that I caught you sleeping on guard duty."
At the thought of making a profit and escaping punishment for his laziness, the sentry brightened. "Yes, sir," he cried, snatching the scroll. Legolas watched him as he disappeared into the shadows. Turning, he spotted Gandalf approaching.
"Hello, young Legolas," he said.
"Hello, Gandalf. You're out late this night."
"As are you, Master Legolas," he noted wryly.
"I have many thoughts on my mind," he confessed.
"As do we all. But I sense not all of your thoughts have to do with our quest."
"You sense correctly. I worry for my wife, Saryn. We have never been separated for so long before. I miss her."
"Ah, young love," mused Gandalf with a merry twinkle in his eye. Do not worry. She is safe."
"I know she is safe, but I fear I will not see her again."
"You may not," retorted Gandalf, "but that is a risk we all must take. But it is not about love that I have come to speak with you. It is about Gimli, the dwarf."
"What of him?" Legolas asked suspiciously.
"I know you don't like him, Legolas, and upon hearing his comments about your wife, I cannot blame you, but you must learn to live with him if we are to have a chance."
"He insulted my wife, Gandalf-,"
"There are more important considerations than the feelings of your wife at this moment. If we fail, Middle Earth will be crushed under Sauron's heel. Promise me you will put your feelings about Gimli aside for now." Gandalf grabbed him by the arm and fixed him with a piercing gaze.
"I promise."
Gandalf held him for a moment more. "Good," he said, satisfied. "Goodnight then, Master Legolas.
"Goodnight, Gandalf.
As he watched the old wizard go, he could not help but think he had made a promise he could not keep.
4
Six days later and less than five hours before her husband set off on his epic journey, Saryn sat listlessly overlooking their private glade. She ate an apple, but did not taste it. Her voice, usually lifted from dawn until dusk in joyous song, no longer sang. Even the crickets had grown silent in sympathy for her loneliness. Oh Legolas, I wish you were here with me. I have such wonderful news. She stroked her belly absently. A child. His child. Their child. After two hundred years. She could hardly believe it when the beaming midwife had told her the news. And now he was not here to share in her joy.
As she gathered the apple core and turned to go inside, she spotted a speck on the horizon. Legolas, she thought, and hope soared in her chest. Yet after watching for a moment, she realized it was not him, and sadness overwhelmed her again. Whoever it was coming this way. She stood waiting.
As he approached, she realized it was an elf. "Lady Saryn?" he asked, dismounting slowly.
"Yes." She was suddenly filled with an awful dread that he was going to tell her Legolas was dead.
"I bring word from your husband." He held out the parchment.
She took it with numb and trembling hands. As she read it, her eyes filled with tears. "No," she choked, and ran inside the house.
The sentry, a simple lad named Telvryn, stood nonplussed for a moment before following her into the bower. "M'lady, why do you weep? Your husband is fine. I saw him with my own eyes."
She made no answer, only darted around the bower throwing food into a sack.
"What are you doing?"
"Going to find my husband," she snapped, grabbing Legolas' extra bow and quiver.
"You can't do that, he spluttered, "it's too dangerous."
"Watch me." She grabbed his extra blade and headed for the door.
"I cannot allow you to do this," he said, grabbing her arms.
"You would dare touch a woman with child?" she shrieked, twisting away.
He recoiled as though he had touched fire. "I'm sorry," he quailed, "I didn't know."
"It's alright," she said, regaining some composure. "No one knows yet. But you see, I have a right to be with my husband, and I mean to be."
"But m'lady-,"
"Shut up. 'A woman with child shall not be parted from her husband until seven days after the child has drawn its first breath' True?"
"True, but-,"
"Then I am going." She shouldered past him, calling to her sable stallion, Rhydon. He had been a gift from Legolas on the anniversary of their joining two years ago. She heard his muffled hoofbeats and soft neighings as he came at a full gallop.
Telvryn stood indecisively in the doorway. It would be madness to let her go, but he knew he could not stop her. His conscience would not allow him to abandon her to this folly alone. "I'm going with you," he sighed, convinced he was going to his death.
"As you wish," she said, leaping nimbly onto the back of the waiting steed.
"Fly, Rhydon, fly to Rivendell," she commanded, leaning against the heavy, rippling muscles of his back.
Four hours before Legolas greeted the first day of his journey, Saryn flew toward Rivendell.
When Legolas arrived in Rivendell a week later, he was awed by the magnificent splendor of Elrond's castle. He'd never been here before, and the last time he'd seen his uncle had been at his joining two hundred years before. The great structure of wood and stone rose all around him, the immense, torch-lit corridors echoing with his footsteps. Elaborate carvings adorned the walls and pillars, lions, stallions, and phoenixes that loomed over him. He reached out tentative hands to brush his fingers across some of them, amazed at their craftsmanship. How many eons had passed in the construction of this place? He was about to ask his guide, a merry-faced elf much younger than himself, but before he could, the elf in question opened an enormous black oak door.
"In here, sir." He gestured through the opening with his torch.
He stepped inside to find the strangest conglomeration of beings he had ever seen. His uncle, the proud King Elrond, sat at the head of the circle, his flowing red robes spilling over the edges of the golden throne upon which he sat. To his right sat an empty chair, presumably saved for the Legolas. To his left, Legolas recognized two from the race of men. Beside them sat a stubby, florid, pig-faced dwarf. Legolas could hardly contain his surprise at this. Dwarves and elves had never concerned themselves with one another, and as far as he knew, had never set foot in one another's lands, though they were related in some dim past. The idea of sitting in the presence of this filthy little earth monger and entertaining his opinion made his stomach turn. Frankly, the idea of even involving himself with the race of men made him feel ill at ease. Whatever had necessitated this meeting, he hoped it could be resolved quickly.
"Ah, Legolas," cried his uncle when he saw him, "welcome. Please sit. It is good to see you again. It has been too long." He waved his hand at the empty seat beside him.
Legolas bowed slightly to his uncle and nodded curtly to the others as he sat. An uncomfortable silence passed while the company studied each other. Apparently the dwarf shared his feelings of ill will, because he glared at Legolas with barely concealed disgust. Finally, his uncle said, "So, tell me, Legolas, how are things in Mirkwood? Is my brother well? Have you and Saryn been blessed with many happy, healthy Elflings?"
"My father is fine," he answered, uncomfortable discussing his family in front of that abominable little dwarf. "As for Saryn and myself, we have not yet welcomed any children."
"Ha!" roared the dwarf, slapping his knee. "A leaf-eating tree- coddler who has not yet produced untold numbers of his own line? I believe you're right, Your Majesty, dark times are upon us!" He shook with laughter, rocking to and fro in his chair. The men studied their feet in embarrassed silence.
King Elrond shot him a withering look, and Legolas saw splendid visions of clouting the little worm over the head with his own axe, but before either could react to the blatant affront, the towering door swung open again and the same elf that had admitted Legolas into the room ushered in the fabled Gandalf the Grey and his companion, a tiny, dwarf-like creature none of them had ever seen before. All eyes turned to watch their progress as they entered.
"Gandalf, Frodo," said Elrond rising from his chair. "I am pleased to see that you have come to us unharmed."
"That was a very near thing, indeed," muttered Gandalf.
Elrond nodded, unsurprised. "In any case, you are here now, and that is what matters. Sit. You are tired from your journey." He motioned to a smooth stone bench adjacent to the throne. "Perhaps I misspoke when I deemed you unharmed. How fares your wound, Frodo?"
The creature gingerly touched the shoulder where the wound had been. "I am quite recovered," he responded in a small, soft voice. "Your Majesty is an excellent physician."
The king smiled at the compliment, then turned serious once more. "Now then," he said, briskly clapping his hands, "I did not summon you here for idle chatter. A matter of grave concern has arisen that affects all of Middle Earth. Something must be done about it." He hesitated. "Alas, I am not the man for such explanations. That would be a task better suited to Gandalf." The king stepped back, and all eyes turned to Gandalf.
"Yes," he began, sitting forward on his haunches and grasping his staff. "As many of you may know, there have been strange happenings in the land of Mordor. Mount Doom has sprung to life again after slumbering for more than three thousand years..and Sauron's fortress has been rebuilt." There were murmurs and gasps of surprise at this, but he continued. "I have long suspected why, but my fears were confirmed upon my visit to my young friend, Frodo the hobbit. The Ring of Power has awakened. Frodo, the ring, please."
Everyone watched in fascination as the young hobbit stepped forward, pulling an object from a simple cloth pouch. With a sigh of relief, he placed the ring on a pedestal before the king and stepped back. There was a thunderstruck silence as they surveyed the object of untold lore.
Legolas beheld it with wonder and a little disappointment. The Ring of Power had been the subject of endless speculation amongst he and his friends when they were Elflings. On the canvas of their imaginations, the infamous ring had assumed a terrible appearance befitting its monstrous power. The ring was forged, not of metal, but of blood, the blood of the millions slain at Sauron's hand. It glowed an iridescent red when worn, and when he wished, Sauron could transform the ring into a ruby dragon to set loose upon his adversaries.
Yet there it was, a simple golden band. No blood, no dragon. Just an innocuous piece of metal like the ones human women used to adorn themselves. The hobbit, too, was a bit of a letdown. He had envisaged something a bit more, well, elfin. Instead, he resembled a taller, more couth dwarf.
Beside him, one of the race of men spoke, "If this truly is the legendary ring of power, then let us use it against Sauron! With it we are assured of victory." He clenched his fist, his eyes ablaze with fervor.and something else. Legolas thought he detected a ember of cold greed in his eyes, and he felt his heart drop in his chest. He is the weak link among us, he thought, but said nothing.
"No, Boromir," said Gandalf, dismissing the notion with a wave of his gnarled hand. "The Ring is too powerful. No matter how noble our intentions, it was crafted in evil, and it will work for our undoing. It will find our weakness and turn it against us. No, the Ring must be destroyed, cast back into the fires from whence it came."
"But-," began Boromir.
"But nothing," snapped Elrond. "Gandalf is right. Destroying it is the only way to ensure the safety of our peoples. The only question that remains to us now is who will carry out this momentous task?" He stopped, waiting for volunteers.
"I'll go," said Boromir. "I'm strong enough to brave the dangers of the journey.
"You?" scoffed Elrond. "No. I still remember the treachery of men all too clearly. If it hadn't been for man's greed, we would never have been endangered."
"Then I'll go," announced the dwarf, rising to his feet and hefting up his battle axe. "After all, the best men come in small packages, something your wife would be pleased to discover, eh, tree-coddler?"
"You are not worthy of the sweat from my wife's brow, you repulsive lout!" hissed Legolas, reaching for his sword.
A babel of voices erupted, each man throwing recriminations against the other. Swords were drawn. Gandalf's feeble pleas for peace went unheard. The fragile coalition would've crumbled before it began had not Frodo climbed upon the pedestal and shouted, "EVERYONE STOP!"
Words died in mid-syllable and everyone turned to stare at the exasperated hobbit. "I'll take the Ring," he continued, "I've carried it this far." He hopped off the pedestal, returning the ring to the safety of his pouch.
The quiet determination of the hobbit shamed Legolas. The fate of his world was at stake, and here they were arguing amongst themselves like common hooligans. He sheathed his sword and stepped forward to offer his services, but one of the men was quicker.
"I, Strider, would be honored to accompany you, hobbit. You shall have my sword."
"And my bow," proclaimed Legolas.
"And my axe," grunted the malodorous dwarf, who much to Legolas' dismay came to stand beside him. His hands ached to wrap themselves around the stubby little neck, but he restrained himself through sheer force of will.
"And my strength," added Boromir.
The king was just about to proclaim them the fellowship of the ring when another hobbit toppled through the window. "You can't go without me, Master Frodo," he called. He stood defiantly beside him, staring up at Elrond. "You can't part me from him.
"So I see," muttered Elrond with a dry laugh.
Just as he was about to ordain them the fellowship, two more hobbits came dashing through the door. "You're not leaving without us, Frodo," they yelled.
"Alright, alright!" bellowed the king, throwing up his hands. "You can all go. Are there any other last-minute additions to the party?" When there were no further outbursts, he continued. "Then I hereby proclaim you the fellowship of the ring. You will set out in a week. In the meantime, I invite you to enjoy all the hospitality that Rivendell has to offer." With a final bow, he took leave of the group.
3
Later that night, long after the stars had ascended to their rightful places in the tapestry of night, Legolas sat cross-legged in front of his makeshift bower, a quill in one hand and a piece of dried leaf parchment in the other. His heart longed to be in the arms of his beloved Saryn, their bodies nestled together, the sweet pear scent of her skin in his nose. Instead he was struggled to find soothing words to send her to ease her worried mind.
My Dearest Saryn,
How my heart longs to tell you that I will be home soon, but alas, I cannot. I have been called upon to take part in a dangerous journey that I cannot refuse. I do not know when Fate will return me to you, but I promise I will return. My thoughts and heart will be with you always until we are reunited. Pray for me that I might return home soon, my love.
All my love,
Legolas
He rolled up the scroll and sealed it with the wax crest of King Elrond. He knew it was hardly sufficient, but it would have to do. "Guard," he called out to the sleeping form below. He heard grumbling and clatterings as the sentry trudged up the hill to where he stood.
"What?" he rasped. His eyes were puffy from sleep.
"Take this letter to my wife, Saryn, in Mirkwood."
"Now?" he whined?
"Yes, now," he barked," and if you do it quickly, I'll throw in a few gildnar and forget to tell my uncle that I caught you sleeping on guard duty."
At the thought of making a profit and escaping punishment for his laziness, the sentry brightened. "Yes, sir," he cried, snatching the scroll. Legolas watched him as he disappeared into the shadows. Turning, he spotted Gandalf approaching.
"Hello, young Legolas," he said.
"Hello, Gandalf. You're out late this night."
"As are you, Master Legolas," he noted wryly.
"I have many thoughts on my mind," he confessed.
"As do we all. But I sense not all of your thoughts have to do with our quest."
"You sense correctly. I worry for my wife, Saryn. We have never been separated for so long before. I miss her."
"Ah, young love," mused Gandalf with a merry twinkle in his eye. Do not worry. She is safe."
"I know she is safe, but I fear I will not see her again."
"You may not," retorted Gandalf, "but that is a risk we all must take. But it is not about love that I have come to speak with you. It is about Gimli, the dwarf."
"What of him?" Legolas asked suspiciously.
"I know you don't like him, Legolas, and upon hearing his comments about your wife, I cannot blame you, but you must learn to live with him if we are to have a chance."
"He insulted my wife, Gandalf-,"
"There are more important considerations than the feelings of your wife at this moment. If we fail, Middle Earth will be crushed under Sauron's heel. Promise me you will put your feelings about Gimli aside for now." Gandalf grabbed him by the arm and fixed him with a piercing gaze.
"I promise."
Gandalf held him for a moment more. "Good," he said, satisfied. "Goodnight then, Master Legolas.
"Goodnight, Gandalf.
As he watched the old wizard go, he could not help but think he had made a promise he could not keep.
4
Six days later and less than five hours before her husband set off on his epic journey, Saryn sat listlessly overlooking their private glade. She ate an apple, but did not taste it. Her voice, usually lifted from dawn until dusk in joyous song, no longer sang. Even the crickets had grown silent in sympathy for her loneliness. Oh Legolas, I wish you were here with me. I have such wonderful news. She stroked her belly absently. A child. His child. Their child. After two hundred years. She could hardly believe it when the beaming midwife had told her the news. And now he was not here to share in her joy.
As she gathered the apple core and turned to go inside, she spotted a speck on the horizon. Legolas, she thought, and hope soared in her chest. Yet after watching for a moment, she realized it was not him, and sadness overwhelmed her again. Whoever it was coming this way. She stood waiting.
As he approached, she realized it was an elf. "Lady Saryn?" he asked, dismounting slowly.
"Yes." She was suddenly filled with an awful dread that he was going to tell her Legolas was dead.
"I bring word from your husband." He held out the parchment.
She took it with numb and trembling hands. As she read it, her eyes filled with tears. "No," she choked, and ran inside the house.
The sentry, a simple lad named Telvryn, stood nonplussed for a moment before following her into the bower. "M'lady, why do you weep? Your husband is fine. I saw him with my own eyes."
She made no answer, only darted around the bower throwing food into a sack.
"What are you doing?"
"Going to find my husband," she snapped, grabbing Legolas' extra bow and quiver.
"You can't do that, he spluttered, "it's too dangerous."
"Watch me." She grabbed his extra blade and headed for the door.
"I cannot allow you to do this," he said, grabbing her arms.
"You would dare touch a woman with child?" she shrieked, twisting away.
He recoiled as though he had touched fire. "I'm sorry," he quailed, "I didn't know."
"It's alright," she said, regaining some composure. "No one knows yet. But you see, I have a right to be with my husband, and I mean to be."
"But m'lady-,"
"Shut up. 'A woman with child shall not be parted from her husband until seven days after the child has drawn its first breath' True?"
"True, but-,"
"Then I am going." She shouldered past him, calling to her sable stallion, Rhydon. He had been a gift from Legolas on the anniversary of their joining two years ago. She heard his muffled hoofbeats and soft neighings as he came at a full gallop.
Telvryn stood indecisively in the doorway. It would be madness to let her go, but he knew he could not stop her. His conscience would not allow him to abandon her to this folly alone. "I'm going with you," he sighed, convinced he was going to his death.
"As you wish," she said, leaping nimbly onto the back of the waiting steed.
"Fly, Rhydon, fly to Rivendell," she commanded, leaning against the heavy, rippling muscles of his back.
Four hours before Legolas greeted the first day of his journey, Saryn flew toward Rivendell.