AUTHOR NOTES: This is my angsty and violent short story about Gollum's
brief stint in Mirkwood. It's one of the first LOTR stories I ever wrote. I
wanted to bring three of my favorite characters together (Legolas, Aragorn
and Gollum) and decided this was the perfect opportunity. (and for those of
you who have read my other stories-yes, this story was used for the first
two chapters of another of my fics-but it was originally written to stand
on its own).
And on to the story:
Chapter I - The Capture of Gollum
The stag's head was bent down, curving his sleek body from torso to fur-dusted jaw line. The lovely curving antlers were raised a few inches above the ground, and one was partly broken. He was quietly making a feast out of the wet moss that grew in colonies about the roots of the Mirkwood trees. The white sunlight of the Outside dappled his glossy, sable coat. A bird cried out, and the stag's shoulders tensed briefly. The glassy eyes blinked. He continued to eat.
Silently, the arrow was fitted to the string. Strong fingers curved around the base of the shaft, slowly, measured, balanced. The arrow was pulled back. No sound issued from the Elven-spun cord of the bow. Its flexible wood did not creak: the skilled hands that had crafted the bow had conditioned it for stealth and silence befitting an Elven prince. Though the realm of Mirkwood was always alive and moving with many forms of life, the archer did not breathe.
The stag moved onto the next patch of moss, slightly lifting his crowned head.
The archer pulled his right arm back. His left arm he straightened, locking the elbow. In moments the arrow would surge from the bow and thud into the deer's side, between the third and fourth rib, puncturing most of the stag's lung, nicking the left atrium of the warm heart, ending life in a matter of seconds: virtually painless but lethally precise. The woods went silent. The trees did not move.
A cry, shrill and piercing, rang through the clearing.
The sound erupted like the breaking of many glasses, and the archer's heart leapt within his chest. The stag swung his head up. His eye caught the glint of the lighted arrowhead. In a moment he saw the Elf crouched a few meters away. Familiar signs went to his darkened mind: sharp, blood, enemy, death, run, run, run! The archer rose to his feet, his own pulse aflutter from the bloodcurdling sound. He was defeated, as the stag disappeared in an earthy-hued flash. A flock of sparrows flew up as it bounded away toward deeper shadows. The woods exhaled, still reeling from the scream.
"Again," Legolas sighed. But he did not replace the arrow in his quiver. The scream had warned him against such. *Eventually I shall have him,* he thought, fingering the end of the arrowhead tentatively. *One day the Stag will be mine.* Now he focused his thought on the source of the sound.
Indeed, a clamor was coming closer. Extremely close. Fifty yards away. He thought he could hear quiet footfalls, firm and steady-and the rushed padding of bare feet? A whimpering sound, like a punished hound after a beating from its master. Legolas swiftly turned to face the noise. Through the trees he could barely see the flecks of light darting off of a tall man's cloak.
Birds flew up and away from the walker. Legolas decided to join them, selecting the large, twisting tree to his right. The branches were high, but he was blessed with Elven vitality and was counted strong among his own kind. Gracefully he leapt up to catch the lowest bough and swung up into the greenery above just as the Man entered the tiny clearing. His face was grim and faintly lined, but beautiful and noble. His dark hair was dusted silver at the temples. It was strange to the Elf, the way that it seemed Men changed color as they neared their deaths, like a dying tree.
The Man was not alone. He was dragging a creature along with him whom Legolas at first took to be an ailing, underfed whippet missing its hair. Then he saw that the thing had arms and legs like a human, with a round baldhead and large baleful eyes. It was horrible to look upon. He wondered if the thing had been stricken with the human vulnerability called "disease."
When they had passed his tree, Legolas leapt to the earth behind them, silently landing. Yet even as he did so, the Man swiftly spun around and his emaciated ward let out another screech. The Elf was a bit astounded to have been noticed: no mortal man had ever guessed the Prince's coming before. There was a comical split second when the three stood staring at each other.
In an instant, Legolas knew that it was no mere mortal Man who stood before him. The stranger's eyes were a dark gray with a silver sheen, and his face was fairer than that of most Men. There was no apprehension in those eyes: caution, yes, yet a thin film of it compared to the impression that Legolas gathered- whoever the Man was, he was ready to spring, a tidal wave frozen at the crest. Then it dawned upon the Elf.
"A ranger?" Legolas spoke in Westron, wonder audible in his voice. Slowly, he lowered his bow. "Long has it been since the Dunedain have passed through Mirkwood."
The Man seemed to relax a bit, having been received with friendly words, but the creature did not. It crouched behind its master, clinging desperately to his cloak. It cringed when the man spoke, seeming to be in dread of his voice: "It has been many years, indeed, since I at least have traveled hither. So long in fact, that it is no wonder you do not recognize me, Prince Legolas." He had an accent like an Elf's, so his first language must have been Sindarin.
Legolas narrowed his eyes, and refused to fall into his mother tongue as of yet. "How know you my name, Sir?"
The Man laughed. "Once you knew mine."
Could it be? Legolas' mouth opened slightly, though at first no words issued forth. He found them at last: "Aragorn?"
A smile spread across the Ranger's face as his friend hastened to him and embraced him heartily. Legolas grinned. "Mae govannen! It has indeed been too long. Forgive me: I forget the changes of mortals. Yet you have not changed at all in your stealth and secrecy of manner. What brings you to my father's kingdom?" He remembered the crouching thing. "And what is *that*?"
"Curious, as ever," Aragorn said with a grin. "I will answer all your questions in time, yet I have one for you. Why do you wander the woods alone? Have you not an escort in the outskirts of Mirkwood? These are dark times."
"You sound like my father," Legolas replied with a sad smile. "He would not have me wander the forests alone now that the Shadow draws nigh. I disobey him for my own sake. He prefers the comforts of the palace, and I the company of trees."
"Then you at least have changed little."
"Yes, that is true. He seeks to blame my ways on the circumstance of my youth. Besides the Evenstar in Imladris, I know that I am the lastborn of our people." At the mentioning of Arwen, a shadow seemed to pass over Aragorn's face. *He still loves her* Legolas thought. *Yet I foresee sorrow in the end.* He smiled, and laid a hand upon his friend's shoulder, and fell into Sindarin without thought.
"Come. You must speak with my father."
* * *
Aragorn and Legolas spoke in their native tongue, exchanging news of their realms-for the prince, it was simply Mirkwood and a bit to the east (the Elves had many dealings with Laketown and Erebor), but for the Ranger, it was the entire Outside world. Aragorn explained that the creature he dragged along was Gollum, once a Halfling named Sméagol, who had fallen into shadow after corruption by the One Ring. He spoke in whispers, his eyes shifting to the forms of the sinister Mirkwood trees. Not all trees were allied with the Free Peoples.
The walk back to the Elven city was swift with their talk, and in time they came upon the outer sentinels of Thranduil's realm. They saluted Legolas in the de rigueur manner as any Elf would salute an Elven-prince. When Aragorn's eyes met those of the guards, he felt a strange hostility. Of course he knew the Wood-elves to be mistrusting folk, but there was a new fear in their eyes.
"Good afternoon, my Prince," came a call from the boughs above. Legolas stopped and shaded his eyes with his long, slender hand, gazing upward. He replied, "And to you, Silindë. Have any messengers arrived at my Father's hall?"
"No. There have been no messengers for three weeks now. May I ask with whom you are traveling? It is not King Thranduil's will that strangers should pass through the Gateway."
"No stranger do I bring. Do you remember, many years ago, when the Rangers came to Esgaroth to trade at Midsummer? It was two summers after the fall of the Dragon. I introduced you to one of them and he has returned. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn."
Silindë's eyes went wide, and he swiftly returned his bow to its rightful place across his shoulders. "It has been many years since the Dunedain have come to Mirkwood! And now travel is of great risk. How came you to Mirkwood unscathed, Aragorn?"
Aragorn smiled, but before he could answer, the prince said, "Ah, but you mistake Aragorn for a normal mortal man. He has been raised by Elrond Peredhil and his people, and is more akin to you and I than any other of his kind." He turned to Aragorn with a smile as mischievous as a child's and whispered in a voice as to be barely heard among the rustling branches: "Aragorn Arathornion, eldarion i adanion." (Aragorn son of Arathorn, of the Elves and of Men)
Silindë smiled from above-he had not heard Legolas' low-voiced words. "Indeed. Yet even we cannot travel outside our realm unarmed. I admire your skill, Aragorn. It is good to see you again. You may pass."
Legolas, Aragorn and the little gray creature continued onward. The shadowy form of the palace was seen through the tree line. They passed several other Wood-Elves who first bowed to their prince, then stared at Gollum. None would come near: Elves had the ability to sense the evil in Gollum like a vapor surrounding him, a blackened aura. The four guards who stood by the pathway leading to the great doors were reluctant to let the sniveling blight inside, but Legolas insisted and they gave way. Some of his folk whispered, in later years, that the ground where Gollum had stepped became sparse of life. No seed would grow in the soil of his footprints. The power of the Ring was present in Mirkwood.
* * *
Outside the doors to Thranduil's Hall, Legolas paused. He always did. There was something he always found to be absurd about the cavernous palace of Mirkwood. It was positively...*dwarvish* living in a cave of sorts. How he wished they could live as his cousins in Lorien did, upon the flets set in mallorns, lying beneath the stars at night, basking in the golden light during the day. In his father's hall, torches and lanterns provided evening light, not stars or moonbeams.
Aragorn sensed his friend's apprehension, and wondered at its arrival as they had neared Legolas' respected home. "What is it, Legolas?"
Legolas sighed, and raised his arms before the great gate. He cleared his mind and breathed slowly, focusing on the silent incantation he had been taught when he was still very young to open the stones and enter the palace.
*thrond o eldari* *lasto beth nin* (Gateway of the Eldar Hear my voice)
The doors yielded and slowly swung open. Elf, Man and unknown straggler stepped between them, and the slabs of stone closed behind, little grooves upon the edges fitting together to form an impenetrable wall against the dangers of Mirkwood.
Down the winding tunnel they traveled. Torches and golden lanterns lighted it. At the end were two guards who nodded as they passed, gazing in morbid fascination at what was Gollum.
The tunnel opened up into the beautiful throne room, but his father was not there. Seven long tables were being set up for a banquet, which seemed odd. There was no cause for celebration. Ah, but King Thranduil was a master of distraction. A feast was good to turn the minds of Sylvan Elves from the shadow and the twilight. Legolas wished that for once his father might face the truth.
He left Aragorn and his ward in the throne room, with two guards in case the creature became a hazard. Legolas went to the study, which was where his father could usually be found. This was the room used to discuss matters of state and defense, two things that Legolas abhorred. Still, it had a great library. It was also the room Legolas had used when he took lessons as a child, first learning to write the Tengwar, Angerthas, and how to speak Quenya, Nandorin, Westron and enough Dwarvish to get by when they traded with the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain. Thranduil was standing at the great, carved table, which was spread with maps and diagrams of the southern parts of Mirkwood: he was researching the new threat of Dol Guldur.
Thranduil did not look up when they entered. He did let out a long, frustrated sigh.
"Legolas, it is always wise to knock before entering any room."
"Yes, Father." Legolas smiled.
The Elven-King looked up finally. "Well, what is it?"
"Aragorn son of Arathorn has arrived. He brings with him a creature unlike any I have seen, and desires to speak with you regarding it."
"The Man came to Mirkwood alone?" Thranduil raised his brows.
"Amazing, isn't it, that a Man walks through Mirkwood unscathed, and an Elf with years of experience in his homeland behind him is forbidden to do so?" The prince narrowed his eyes.
Thranduil groaned. "We will discuss this another time, my son. Tell Aragorn I will be with him in a moment. Make sure he is made comfortable."
Legolas nodded brusquely, spun on his heel and left, not caring that the door had "accidentally" slammed behind him.
* * *
"And how is his lordship?"
Legolas wanted to hit Aragorn as hard as he was able for the amusement present in the Man's face. "Leave me alone, Engwaro. *He* certainly does not." (Engwaro: sickly one, a derogatory term used by the Elves for Men)
Gollum hissed something in an orc-sounding snarl and swiped at Legolas' legs.
"Ai! What's this?" Legolas stepped back as though he'd been stung. "I don't think he likes me much."
Aragorn jerked on the cord that was looped round Gollum's throat. The creature gurgled in pain. "He likes nothing that is good, be it an Elf or a ray of sunlight. Even the moon and stars seem to annoy him. At night he would whisper things about the menace of 'the great white face,' and shake his fist at the heavens."
"Little devil," Legolas laughed. He knelt in front of Gollum who had twisted himself into a fetal position and rolled about side to side. "What do you eat, little one?"
Gollum blinked balefully at the kneeling Elf and said nothing.
"Come now, you must be hungry." Legolas glanced up at Aragorn. "He does eat *something* doesn't he? He looked at Gollum again, slightly tilting his head to the side. "What do you eat, little one?" he asked in Westron.
Gollum hissed. Then Legolas realized he was saying a word.
"Fissssshhhh."
"Fish?"
Gollum hissed again. Legolas took it for, "Yes."
"Well, there you have it." The prince smiled and rose to his feet, motioning to one of the servants who were helping to set up the banquet hall. "Carnil, will you go to the kitchens and see if they have caught any fish today? If they have, I'll need a plate of it brought out here for this one." He turned to Gollum, who was back rolling about on the floor, and laughed a little. Carnil nodded and went away.
"Mae govannen, Aragorn Arathornion."
King Thranduil had entered the room. Aragorn bowed deeply. "My Lord Thranduil. It has been too long.
Immediately, the King turned an interested stare upon Gollum. "And he is?"
"A little 'gift' from Mithrandir," the Man replied. Both Elven royals looked at him in shock.
"Mithrandir?" Legolas said in an amazed whisper. "He is abroad again?"
"His wanderings never cease," Aragorn said. "Nor shall his labors end, I think. He bade me bring the creature Gollum to your kingdom, knowing that here he was farthest away and safest from The Enemy."
Thranduil raised a hand, confused. "Wait. The Shadow is looking for this Gollum? Why?"
"It is an issue involving Isildur's bane." Aragorn leaned toward the King and the Prince. "I think it best if Gollum is out of sight and earshot while we discuss his fate. The Ring has made him what he is today."
At the word "Ring" Gollum sat up straight and let out an ear- splitting howl. Everyone in the hall jumped in their skins. Gollum ceased and lunged at Aragorn, who kicked him aside with a weary look on his face.
"I see." Thranduil grimaced. Then he called over four guards and bade them to lead Gollum into one of the underground dungeons. "See to it that he has one that is clean and well lit."
"And have his food sent down to him," Legolas added, as Carnil had reentered the room with a plate of filleted fish caught from the Forest River.
"If I may, my Lord," Aragorn said, "I think it is more to Gollum's liking if he were to have a.well.darker cell. One that perhaps isn't so pleasant?"
"What on Middle-earth for?"
"He is accustomed to such. He has spent nearly five hundred years living in a cave."
"Five hundred years?" Legolas gasped.
"Indeed. There is much I need to tell you."
Gollum was lead away, and the three retired back into the study to hear in full the account of not one story, but two: of a Halfling named Sméagol, and one named Bilbo Baggins.
-Fin-
Next: Chapter II - The Night Ambush
Please review!
And on to the story:
Chapter I - The Capture of Gollum
The stag's head was bent down, curving his sleek body from torso to fur-dusted jaw line. The lovely curving antlers were raised a few inches above the ground, and one was partly broken. He was quietly making a feast out of the wet moss that grew in colonies about the roots of the Mirkwood trees. The white sunlight of the Outside dappled his glossy, sable coat. A bird cried out, and the stag's shoulders tensed briefly. The glassy eyes blinked. He continued to eat.
Silently, the arrow was fitted to the string. Strong fingers curved around the base of the shaft, slowly, measured, balanced. The arrow was pulled back. No sound issued from the Elven-spun cord of the bow. Its flexible wood did not creak: the skilled hands that had crafted the bow had conditioned it for stealth and silence befitting an Elven prince. Though the realm of Mirkwood was always alive and moving with many forms of life, the archer did not breathe.
The stag moved onto the next patch of moss, slightly lifting his crowned head.
The archer pulled his right arm back. His left arm he straightened, locking the elbow. In moments the arrow would surge from the bow and thud into the deer's side, between the third and fourth rib, puncturing most of the stag's lung, nicking the left atrium of the warm heart, ending life in a matter of seconds: virtually painless but lethally precise. The woods went silent. The trees did not move.
A cry, shrill and piercing, rang through the clearing.
The sound erupted like the breaking of many glasses, and the archer's heart leapt within his chest. The stag swung his head up. His eye caught the glint of the lighted arrowhead. In a moment he saw the Elf crouched a few meters away. Familiar signs went to his darkened mind: sharp, blood, enemy, death, run, run, run! The archer rose to his feet, his own pulse aflutter from the bloodcurdling sound. He was defeated, as the stag disappeared in an earthy-hued flash. A flock of sparrows flew up as it bounded away toward deeper shadows. The woods exhaled, still reeling from the scream.
"Again," Legolas sighed. But he did not replace the arrow in his quiver. The scream had warned him against such. *Eventually I shall have him,* he thought, fingering the end of the arrowhead tentatively. *One day the Stag will be mine.* Now he focused his thought on the source of the sound.
Indeed, a clamor was coming closer. Extremely close. Fifty yards away. He thought he could hear quiet footfalls, firm and steady-and the rushed padding of bare feet? A whimpering sound, like a punished hound after a beating from its master. Legolas swiftly turned to face the noise. Through the trees he could barely see the flecks of light darting off of a tall man's cloak.
Birds flew up and away from the walker. Legolas decided to join them, selecting the large, twisting tree to his right. The branches were high, but he was blessed with Elven vitality and was counted strong among his own kind. Gracefully he leapt up to catch the lowest bough and swung up into the greenery above just as the Man entered the tiny clearing. His face was grim and faintly lined, but beautiful and noble. His dark hair was dusted silver at the temples. It was strange to the Elf, the way that it seemed Men changed color as they neared their deaths, like a dying tree.
The Man was not alone. He was dragging a creature along with him whom Legolas at first took to be an ailing, underfed whippet missing its hair. Then he saw that the thing had arms and legs like a human, with a round baldhead and large baleful eyes. It was horrible to look upon. He wondered if the thing had been stricken with the human vulnerability called "disease."
When they had passed his tree, Legolas leapt to the earth behind them, silently landing. Yet even as he did so, the Man swiftly spun around and his emaciated ward let out another screech. The Elf was a bit astounded to have been noticed: no mortal man had ever guessed the Prince's coming before. There was a comical split second when the three stood staring at each other.
In an instant, Legolas knew that it was no mere mortal Man who stood before him. The stranger's eyes were a dark gray with a silver sheen, and his face was fairer than that of most Men. There was no apprehension in those eyes: caution, yes, yet a thin film of it compared to the impression that Legolas gathered- whoever the Man was, he was ready to spring, a tidal wave frozen at the crest. Then it dawned upon the Elf.
"A ranger?" Legolas spoke in Westron, wonder audible in his voice. Slowly, he lowered his bow. "Long has it been since the Dunedain have passed through Mirkwood."
The Man seemed to relax a bit, having been received with friendly words, but the creature did not. It crouched behind its master, clinging desperately to his cloak. It cringed when the man spoke, seeming to be in dread of his voice: "It has been many years, indeed, since I at least have traveled hither. So long in fact, that it is no wonder you do not recognize me, Prince Legolas." He had an accent like an Elf's, so his first language must have been Sindarin.
Legolas narrowed his eyes, and refused to fall into his mother tongue as of yet. "How know you my name, Sir?"
The Man laughed. "Once you knew mine."
Could it be? Legolas' mouth opened slightly, though at first no words issued forth. He found them at last: "Aragorn?"
A smile spread across the Ranger's face as his friend hastened to him and embraced him heartily. Legolas grinned. "Mae govannen! It has indeed been too long. Forgive me: I forget the changes of mortals. Yet you have not changed at all in your stealth and secrecy of manner. What brings you to my father's kingdom?" He remembered the crouching thing. "And what is *that*?"
"Curious, as ever," Aragorn said with a grin. "I will answer all your questions in time, yet I have one for you. Why do you wander the woods alone? Have you not an escort in the outskirts of Mirkwood? These are dark times."
"You sound like my father," Legolas replied with a sad smile. "He would not have me wander the forests alone now that the Shadow draws nigh. I disobey him for my own sake. He prefers the comforts of the palace, and I the company of trees."
"Then you at least have changed little."
"Yes, that is true. He seeks to blame my ways on the circumstance of my youth. Besides the Evenstar in Imladris, I know that I am the lastborn of our people." At the mentioning of Arwen, a shadow seemed to pass over Aragorn's face. *He still loves her* Legolas thought. *Yet I foresee sorrow in the end.* He smiled, and laid a hand upon his friend's shoulder, and fell into Sindarin without thought.
"Come. You must speak with my father."
* * *
Aragorn and Legolas spoke in their native tongue, exchanging news of their realms-for the prince, it was simply Mirkwood and a bit to the east (the Elves had many dealings with Laketown and Erebor), but for the Ranger, it was the entire Outside world. Aragorn explained that the creature he dragged along was Gollum, once a Halfling named Sméagol, who had fallen into shadow after corruption by the One Ring. He spoke in whispers, his eyes shifting to the forms of the sinister Mirkwood trees. Not all trees were allied with the Free Peoples.
The walk back to the Elven city was swift with their talk, and in time they came upon the outer sentinels of Thranduil's realm. They saluted Legolas in the de rigueur manner as any Elf would salute an Elven-prince. When Aragorn's eyes met those of the guards, he felt a strange hostility. Of course he knew the Wood-elves to be mistrusting folk, but there was a new fear in their eyes.
"Good afternoon, my Prince," came a call from the boughs above. Legolas stopped and shaded his eyes with his long, slender hand, gazing upward. He replied, "And to you, Silindë. Have any messengers arrived at my Father's hall?"
"No. There have been no messengers for three weeks now. May I ask with whom you are traveling? It is not King Thranduil's will that strangers should pass through the Gateway."
"No stranger do I bring. Do you remember, many years ago, when the Rangers came to Esgaroth to trade at Midsummer? It was two summers after the fall of the Dragon. I introduced you to one of them and he has returned. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn."
Silindë's eyes went wide, and he swiftly returned his bow to its rightful place across his shoulders. "It has been many years since the Dunedain have come to Mirkwood! And now travel is of great risk. How came you to Mirkwood unscathed, Aragorn?"
Aragorn smiled, but before he could answer, the prince said, "Ah, but you mistake Aragorn for a normal mortal man. He has been raised by Elrond Peredhil and his people, and is more akin to you and I than any other of his kind." He turned to Aragorn with a smile as mischievous as a child's and whispered in a voice as to be barely heard among the rustling branches: "Aragorn Arathornion, eldarion i adanion." (Aragorn son of Arathorn, of the Elves and of Men)
Silindë smiled from above-he had not heard Legolas' low-voiced words. "Indeed. Yet even we cannot travel outside our realm unarmed. I admire your skill, Aragorn. It is good to see you again. You may pass."
Legolas, Aragorn and the little gray creature continued onward. The shadowy form of the palace was seen through the tree line. They passed several other Wood-Elves who first bowed to their prince, then stared at Gollum. None would come near: Elves had the ability to sense the evil in Gollum like a vapor surrounding him, a blackened aura. The four guards who stood by the pathway leading to the great doors were reluctant to let the sniveling blight inside, but Legolas insisted and they gave way. Some of his folk whispered, in later years, that the ground where Gollum had stepped became sparse of life. No seed would grow in the soil of his footprints. The power of the Ring was present in Mirkwood.
* * *
Outside the doors to Thranduil's Hall, Legolas paused. He always did. There was something he always found to be absurd about the cavernous palace of Mirkwood. It was positively...*dwarvish* living in a cave of sorts. How he wished they could live as his cousins in Lorien did, upon the flets set in mallorns, lying beneath the stars at night, basking in the golden light during the day. In his father's hall, torches and lanterns provided evening light, not stars or moonbeams.
Aragorn sensed his friend's apprehension, and wondered at its arrival as they had neared Legolas' respected home. "What is it, Legolas?"
Legolas sighed, and raised his arms before the great gate. He cleared his mind and breathed slowly, focusing on the silent incantation he had been taught when he was still very young to open the stones and enter the palace.
*thrond o eldari* *lasto beth nin* (Gateway of the Eldar Hear my voice)
The doors yielded and slowly swung open. Elf, Man and unknown straggler stepped between them, and the slabs of stone closed behind, little grooves upon the edges fitting together to form an impenetrable wall against the dangers of Mirkwood.
Down the winding tunnel they traveled. Torches and golden lanterns lighted it. At the end were two guards who nodded as they passed, gazing in morbid fascination at what was Gollum.
The tunnel opened up into the beautiful throne room, but his father was not there. Seven long tables were being set up for a banquet, which seemed odd. There was no cause for celebration. Ah, but King Thranduil was a master of distraction. A feast was good to turn the minds of Sylvan Elves from the shadow and the twilight. Legolas wished that for once his father might face the truth.
He left Aragorn and his ward in the throne room, with two guards in case the creature became a hazard. Legolas went to the study, which was where his father could usually be found. This was the room used to discuss matters of state and defense, two things that Legolas abhorred. Still, it had a great library. It was also the room Legolas had used when he took lessons as a child, first learning to write the Tengwar, Angerthas, and how to speak Quenya, Nandorin, Westron and enough Dwarvish to get by when they traded with the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain. Thranduil was standing at the great, carved table, which was spread with maps and diagrams of the southern parts of Mirkwood: he was researching the new threat of Dol Guldur.
Thranduil did not look up when they entered. He did let out a long, frustrated sigh.
"Legolas, it is always wise to knock before entering any room."
"Yes, Father." Legolas smiled.
The Elven-King looked up finally. "Well, what is it?"
"Aragorn son of Arathorn has arrived. He brings with him a creature unlike any I have seen, and desires to speak with you regarding it."
"The Man came to Mirkwood alone?" Thranduil raised his brows.
"Amazing, isn't it, that a Man walks through Mirkwood unscathed, and an Elf with years of experience in his homeland behind him is forbidden to do so?" The prince narrowed his eyes.
Thranduil groaned. "We will discuss this another time, my son. Tell Aragorn I will be with him in a moment. Make sure he is made comfortable."
Legolas nodded brusquely, spun on his heel and left, not caring that the door had "accidentally" slammed behind him.
* * *
"And how is his lordship?"
Legolas wanted to hit Aragorn as hard as he was able for the amusement present in the Man's face. "Leave me alone, Engwaro. *He* certainly does not." (Engwaro: sickly one, a derogatory term used by the Elves for Men)
Gollum hissed something in an orc-sounding snarl and swiped at Legolas' legs.
"Ai! What's this?" Legolas stepped back as though he'd been stung. "I don't think he likes me much."
Aragorn jerked on the cord that was looped round Gollum's throat. The creature gurgled in pain. "He likes nothing that is good, be it an Elf or a ray of sunlight. Even the moon and stars seem to annoy him. At night he would whisper things about the menace of 'the great white face,' and shake his fist at the heavens."
"Little devil," Legolas laughed. He knelt in front of Gollum who had twisted himself into a fetal position and rolled about side to side. "What do you eat, little one?"
Gollum blinked balefully at the kneeling Elf and said nothing.
"Come now, you must be hungry." Legolas glanced up at Aragorn. "He does eat *something* doesn't he? He looked at Gollum again, slightly tilting his head to the side. "What do you eat, little one?" he asked in Westron.
Gollum hissed. Then Legolas realized he was saying a word.
"Fissssshhhh."
"Fish?"
Gollum hissed again. Legolas took it for, "Yes."
"Well, there you have it." The prince smiled and rose to his feet, motioning to one of the servants who were helping to set up the banquet hall. "Carnil, will you go to the kitchens and see if they have caught any fish today? If they have, I'll need a plate of it brought out here for this one." He turned to Gollum, who was back rolling about on the floor, and laughed a little. Carnil nodded and went away.
"Mae govannen, Aragorn Arathornion."
King Thranduil had entered the room. Aragorn bowed deeply. "My Lord Thranduil. It has been too long.
Immediately, the King turned an interested stare upon Gollum. "And he is?"
"A little 'gift' from Mithrandir," the Man replied. Both Elven royals looked at him in shock.
"Mithrandir?" Legolas said in an amazed whisper. "He is abroad again?"
"His wanderings never cease," Aragorn said. "Nor shall his labors end, I think. He bade me bring the creature Gollum to your kingdom, knowing that here he was farthest away and safest from The Enemy."
Thranduil raised a hand, confused. "Wait. The Shadow is looking for this Gollum? Why?"
"It is an issue involving Isildur's bane." Aragorn leaned toward the King and the Prince. "I think it best if Gollum is out of sight and earshot while we discuss his fate. The Ring has made him what he is today."
At the word "Ring" Gollum sat up straight and let out an ear- splitting howl. Everyone in the hall jumped in their skins. Gollum ceased and lunged at Aragorn, who kicked him aside with a weary look on his face.
"I see." Thranduil grimaced. Then he called over four guards and bade them to lead Gollum into one of the underground dungeons. "See to it that he has one that is clean and well lit."
"And have his food sent down to him," Legolas added, as Carnil had reentered the room with a plate of filleted fish caught from the Forest River.
"If I may, my Lord," Aragorn said, "I think it is more to Gollum's liking if he were to have a.well.darker cell. One that perhaps isn't so pleasant?"
"What on Middle-earth for?"
"He is accustomed to such. He has spent nearly five hundred years living in a cave."
"Five hundred years?" Legolas gasped.
"Indeed. There is much I need to tell you."
Gollum was lead away, and the three retired back into the study to hear in full the account of not one story, but two: of a Halfling named Sméagol, and one named Bilbo Baggins.
-Fin-
Next: Chapter II - The Night Ambush
Please review!