Disclaimer: all characters, settings, and elvish language are strictly from the mind of J.R.R. Tolkien or inspired by him.
Chapter IV
A Meeting Under the Trees
As Legolas had expected the conversation had continued long into the evening. Faramir had dinner brought to them on the veranda soon after sundown, and the good stewards of the household had lit biers all around the balcony to ward off the chill. The fires, however, did little to warm the elf's disposition or brighten his mood. Faramir's tidings had understandably distressed him. Like Faramir he had a feeling that that Luvien's death was somehow connected, but the link, if there was one, eluded him. He needed to clear his head.
At the first opportunity Legolas excused himself from the others and departed. He went quickly and not back to the rooms he shared with Gimli, for the perceptive dwarf had undoubtedly sensed his mood and would seek him out to ask him what was bothering him. Legolas loved him for his concern, but at the moment he needed to be alone.
Thoughts continued to tumble chaotically inside his head, and so he paid little attention to where he was going. Soon he found himself leaving the citadel and walking through the streets of Amon Galen. He passed by many people as he walked, but few took notice of an elf in this town. So often were elves and dwarves about that the people rarely paid attention anymore. There lives were peaceful, at least for the moment, and in peaceful times humans can quickly grow accustomed to things they would have thought strange only a short time before. Change was harder on the elves.
The elves of Eryn Lasgalen had followed him to this new land in a time when most elves were departing Middle Earth for the Blessed Realm. They had come with him to help re-build a land, which most would not abide in long, alongside dwarves and men. A situation most elves would find nearly intolerable. It is true that his father had some dealings with the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain in days past, but it was for trade alone, and generally the people of Esgaroth had been middlemen to the transactions. It had not been since the first age that elves and dwarves had truly interacted on a regular basis, but even then it was tentative with little love lost between the two.
Legolas and Gimli were very proud of what they had accomplished here in Ithilien. Their community was strong, and if relations were a bit strained at times between their two peoples it was nevertheless peaceful. But Luvien's murder had changed all that, and that angered the usually even-tempered elf. Not only for the deed itself, but also because he seemed so helpless to do anything about the situation. He had sought out Faramir's counsel and though he knew the Prince cared for all who lived within his realm, the murder of one elf was very small in comparison to impending war. Luvien's death lay heavy upon the Legolas's soul, but he knew what was the more important matter, and this knowledge only caused the elf more grief and pain.
Caught up in his thoughts Legolas did not realize that he had left the city and come near to banks of the River Anduin. He blinked in surprise to see it's dark waters flowing lazily by in front of him. Almost soundlessly the great river sped by, only the water lapping at its banks could be heard. Legolas listened intently, and he felt some peace returning to his mind. There was nothing more comforting to elven ears then the sound of water moving. Wherever you found elves in this land there was a great water nearby. Cirdan and his shipwrights lived on the shores of the great sea, in Rivendell were many thundering waterfalls, the entire land of Lothlorien was set between two great rivers, and in his home Thranduil, his father, had built their great hall almost on top of the Forest River. It was a necessity almost as great as that of sustenance to the elves, and Legolas 's feet had seemingly of their own accord brought him to a place where he might calm the storm in his heart. The elf closed his eyes; the mighty Anduin began to slowly wash his thoughts away.
Suddenly the elf tensed. He heard, or rather sensed, the presence of someone nearby. Although it was dark his sharp eyes quickly took in his surroundings. The city was far away glittering in the distance, and the river continued on its never-ending journey to the sea, but he could see no sign of another person. The plain running from Amon Galen to the Anduin was covered in trees. Any number of people could be hiding in their shadows, and Legolas's senses were now screaming at him of imminent danger. He had left his bow in the citadel, but his long knife was at his side and he drew it slowly.
Keeping his back to the river he slowly moved northwards along its banks. He was now certain that whoever was there was up to no good. Noiselessly and carefully he made his way along the bank until he reached the road into Amon Galen. The city walls lay about two leagues from the river's edge, and the road was lined the entire distance with large oaks. Legolas knew that way was treacherous, but he felt remaining here was even more so. The moon was only a few days from being full and Legolas hoped the men in the watchtowers of Minas Mallen would see him and send aid.
He moved forward, eyes searching the shadows of the trees, ears strained for any noise. All remained quiet about him as he neared the halfway mark, but the feeling grew to such force that Legolas spun around fearful that someone was creeping up behind. As he did so he felt a rush of air behind him and ducked only just in time to save his head from being neatly removed from his body. He rolled to one side and was upright in the blink of an eye, but the attacker was swift also and had borne down on him as he rose. Legolas saw the blade out of the corner of his eye and this time as he ducked he stretched one long leg out and swept the feet out of under his foe.
Legolas sprang to his feet again to face the attacker. Whoever he was he was tall, but he was also covered from head to foot in long black robes so that the elf could make out nothing of his features or face. Legolas thought grimly that he looked very much like one of the Nazgul. The robed man brought up a long, curved blade over his head and circled Legolas. As skilled with the blade as Legolas was he realized it was little help against this man's sword and agility. He fought as one who had studied a sword for some length of time.
Suddenly the man rushed in, sword blade swinging in a wide arc down towards the elf's shoulder, but Legolas spun to his right and ducking the blow managed to drive his blade toward the attackers sword arm. It caught fabric but little more. The man in black turned quickly to face him bringing his sword around for another blow. Legolas again ducked low and rolled to his left, but this time the man was prepared. Before Legolas could rise to his feet, one black booted foot met his sword hand. He felt only numbness as his hand was thrown backwards, his long knife flying far behind him into the dark cover of the oaks. He was still kneeling on the ground. His would-be murderer towered over him bringing his blade up for the final thrust, but springing forward Legolas ran straight into the man's stomach bowling him over. The man fell backwards onto the ground.
Pain ripped through Legolas's wounded arm. With a groan he jumped to his feet. He could hear his attacker rising behind him. The elf jumped straight into the air, and with his good arm he caught a low branch from a nearby oak tree. With all his might he swung his body forward hoping his foot would find the man's head. But he had not been fast enough. The attacker spun away from Legolas's foot, swinging his sword wildly. Legolas felt a searing heat along his side. Strength left him and he fell to the earth, crying out as his wounded arm hit the ground. He could feel the blood trickling down from the wound at his side. The world was spinning.
The black-robed man stood over him. It was too dark for the elf to see under the hood, but he could feel the hatred from the man's eyes boring through him. He raised his sword over him for the kill when suddenly an arrow came whistling through the air. Surprised, the man stepped back a pace. The next instant an axe had firmly planted itself in the trunk of a nearby oak tree, and more arrows were sailing past. With a final look at Legolas the man fled into the cover of the trees.
Legolas could hear Gimli and Boromir's voices coming closer. Suddenly the dwarf was looming over him, "What have you gotten yourself into, my friend?" The dwarf's face was nearly panic-stricken, but his voice was steady. To his surprise, Legolas found that he could not respond. Gimli pulled up the elf's bloodstained tunic, the wound in his side was deep and the blood was flowing freely from it. Boromir knelt beside Gimli, "They are fetching a stretcher for him. My father has some of the finest healers in all of Gondor. He will be fine."
Gimli looked down at Legolas, "Do you hear that? You're going to be fine." The dwarf had removed his cloak and was tearing it into strips. He began to carefully bind the wound on Legolas's side while muttering to himself, "Yes, you'll have ample opportunity to make my life miserable." Gimli paused in thought for a moment while continuing to bind the elf's side. "And if you think I don't have anything better to do than play nurse-maid to you you're very much mistaken." Legolas groaned in pain. Gimli finished the makeshift bandage. Men bearing a stretcher approached and lay it next to the injured elf. Pain shot through his arm as they moved him.
Swiftly they carried him back to Minas Mallen. Try as they might the men bearing Legolas were unable to keep the stretcher from being jostled, and with each bump Legolas groaned. Gimli leaned over him and spoke words of comfort, but Legolas had drifted out of consciousness and heard no more.
Chapter IV
A Meeting Under the Trees
As Legolas had expected the conversation had continued long into the evening. Faramir had dinner brought to them on the veranda soon after sundown, and the good stewards of the household had lit biers all around the balcony to ward off the chill. The fires, however, did little to warm the elf's disposition or brighten his mood. Faramir's tidings had understandably distressed him. Like Faramir he had a feeling that that Luvien's death was somehow connected, but the link, if there was one, eluded him. He needed to clear his head.
At the first opportunity Legolas excused himself from the others and departed. He went quickly and not back to the rooms he shared with Gimli, for the perceptive dwarf had undoubtedly sensed his mood and would seek him out to ask him what was bothering him. Legolas loved him for his concern, but at the moment he needed to be alone.
Thoughts continued to tumble chaotically inside his head, and so he paid little attention to where he was going. Soon he found himself leaving the citadel and walking through the streets of Amon Galen. He passed by many people as he walked, but few took notice of an elf in this town. So often were elves and dwarves about that the people rarely paid attention anymore. There lives were peaceful, at least for the moment, and in peaceful times humans can quickly grow accustomed to things they would have thought strange only a short time before. Change was harder on the elves.
The elves of Eryn Lasgalen had followed him to this new land in a time when most elves were departing Middle Earth for the Blessed Realm. They had come with him to help re-build a land, which most would not abide in long, alongside dwarves and men. A situation most elves would find nearly intolerable. It is true that his father had some dealings with the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain in days past, but it was for trade alone, and generally the people of Esgaroth had been middlemen to the transactions. It had not been since the first age that elves and dwarves had truly interacted on a regular basis, but even then it was tentative with little love lost between the two.
Legolas and Gimli were very proud of what they had accomplished here in Ithilien. Their community was strong, and if relations were a bit strained at times between their two peoples it was nevertheless peaceful. But Luvien's murder had changed all that, and that angered the usually even-tempered elf. Not only for the deed itself, but also because he seemed so helpless to do anything about the situation. He had sought out Faramir's counsel and though he knew the Prince cared for all who lived within his realm, the murder of one elf was very small in comparison to impending war. Luvien's death lay heavy upon the Legolas's soul, but he knew what was the more important matter, and this knowledge only caused the elf more grief and pain.
Caught up in his thoughts Legolas did not realize that he had left the city and come near to banks of the River Anduin. He blinked in surprise to see it's dark waters flowing lazily by in front of him. Almost soundlessly the great river sped by, only the water lapping at its banks could be heard. Legolas listened intently, and he felt some peace returning to his mind. There was nothing more comforting to elven ears then the sound of water moving. Wherever you found elves in this land there was a great water nearby. Cirdan and his shipwrights lived on the shores of the great sea, in Rivendell were many thundering waterfalls, the entire land of Lothlorien was set between two great rivers, and in his home Thranduil, his father, had built their great hall almost on top of the Forest River. It was a necessity almost as great as that of sustenance to the elves, and Legolas 's feet had seemingly of their own accord brought him to a place where he might calm the storm in his heart. The elf closed his eyes; the mighty Anduin began to slowly wash his thoughts away.
Suddenly the elf tensed. He heard, or rather sensed, the presence of someone nearby. Although it was dark his sharp eyes quickly took in his surroundings. The city was far away glittering in the distance, and the river continued on its never-ending journey to the sea, but he could see no sign of another person. The plain running from Amon Galen to the Anduin was covered in trees. Any number of people could be hiding in their shadows, and Legolas's senses were now screaming at him of imminent danger. He had left his bow in the citadel, but his long knife was at his side and he drew it slowly.
Keeping his back to the river he slowly moved northwards along its banks. He was now certain that whoever was there was up to no good. Noiselessly and carefully he made his way along the bank until he reached the road into Amon Galen. The city walls lay about two leagues from the river's edge, and the road was lined the entire distance with large oaks. Legolas knew that way was treacherous, but he felt remaining here was even more so. The moon was only a few days from being full and Legolas hoped the men in the watchtowers of Minas Mallen would see him and send aid.
He moved forward, eyes searching the shadows of the trees, ears strained for any noise. All remained quiet about him as he neared the halfway mark, but the feeling grew to such force that Legolas spun around fearful that someone was creeping up behind. As he did so he felt a rush of air behind him and ducked only just in time to save his head from being neatly removed from his body. He rolled to one side and was upright in the blink of an eye, but the attacker was swift also and had borne down on him as he rose. Legolas saw the blade out of the corner of his eye and this time as he ducked he stretched one long leg out and swept the feet out of under his foe.
Legolas sprang to his feet again to face the attacker. Whoever he was he was tall, but he was also covered from head to foot in long black robes so that the elf could make out nothing of his features or face. Legolas thought grimly that he looked very much like one of the Nazgul. The robed man brought up a long, curved blade over his head and circled Legolas. As skilled with the blade as Legolas was he realized it was little help against this man's sword and agility. He fought as one who had studied a sword for some length of time.
Suddenly the man rushed in, sword blade swinging in a wide arc down towards the elf's shoulder, but Legolas spun to his right and ducking the blow managed to drive his blade toward the attackers sword arm. It caught fabric but little more. The man in black turned quickly to face him bringing his sword around for another blow. Legolas again ducked low and rolled to his left, but this time the man was prepared. Before Legolas could rise to his feet, one black booted foot met his sword hand. He felt only numbness as his hand was thrown backwards, his long knife flying far behind him into the dark cover of the oaks. He was still kneeling on the ground. His would-be murderer towered over him bringing his blade up for the final thrust, but springing forward Legolas ran straight into the man's stomach bowling him over. The man fell backwards onto the ground.
Pain ripped through Legolas's wounded arm. With a groan he jumped to his feet. He could hear his attacker rising behind him. The elf jumped straight into the air, and with his good arm he caught a low branch from a nearby oak tree. With all his might he swung his body forward hoping his foot would find the man's head. But he had not been fast enough. The attacker spun away from Legolas's foot, swinging his sword wildly. Legolas felt a searing heat along his side. Strength left him and he fell to the earth, crying out as his wounded arm hit the ground. He could feel the blood trickling down from the wound at his side. The world was spinning.
The black-robed man stood over him. It was too dark for the elf to see under the hood, but he could feel the hatred from the man's eyes boring through him. He raised his sword over him for the kill when suddenly an arrow came whistling through the air. Surprised, the man stepped back a pace. The next instant an axe had firmly planted itself in the trunk of a nearby oak tree, and more arrows were sailing past. With a final look at Legolas the man fled into the cover of the trees.
Legolas could hear Gimli and Boromir's voices coming closer. Suddenly the dwarf was looming over him, "What have you gotten yourself into, my friend?" The dwarf's face was nearly panic-stricken, but his voice was steady. To his surprise, Legolas found that he could not respond. Gimli pulled up the elf's bloodstained tunic, the wound in his side was deep and the blood was flowing freely from it. Boromir knelt beside Gimli, "They are fetching a stretcher for him. My father has some of the finest healers in all of Gondor. He will be fine."
Gimli looked down at Legolas, "Do you hear that? You're going to be fine." The dwarf had removed his cloak and was tearing it into strips. He began to carefully bind the wound on Legolas's side while muttering to himself, "Yes, you'll have ample opportunity to make my life miserable." Gimli paused in thought for a moment while continuing to bind the elf's side. "And if you think I don't have anything better to do than play nurse-maid to you you're very much mistaken." Legolas groaned in pain. Gimli finished the makeshift bandage. Men bearing a stretcher approached and lay it next to the injured elf. Pain shot through his arm as they moved him.
Swiftly they carried him back to Minas Mallen. Try as they might the men bearing Legolas were unable to keep the stretcher from being jostled, and with each bump Legolas groaned. Gimli leaned over him and spoke words of comfort, but Legolas had drifted out of consciousness and heard no more.