NECKLACE

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: JRR Tolkein wrote the books: New Line Cinema made the movie.

Thank you so much for all your kind reviews! I'm very glad you like the story and have taken time out to tell me so.* slaps her Muse for giving her writer's block (Raziel says, "Ow")*

Okay *taking a deep breath* here goes. This (I hope) will begin the explanation you've been asking for…

"How old are you?" Gandalf asked, quietly. Legolas paused again before answering. Except for the rise and fall of his chest and his voice, he might have lain there as dead.

"I have forgotten."

Eowyn had sat down in the chair nearby that Haldir had recently vacated and was watching the dialogue with curious eyes. The talk was mostly in elvish, scattered with broken phrases in the common speech.

"What is your name?"

"Legolas…"

"Your mind is troubled. What are you thinking of?" Gandalf prodded, gently.

This time the elf moved, shifting his shoulders against the couch. "There are waves, crashing…the air is full of salt…"

"Enough!" snapped Gandalf, swiftly: then, as if relenting, he laid a hand on Legolas's arm for a moment. "We will not think of that now," he said, "there will be other times for you to think of it. Now. Tell me. What do you keep tied at your throat?"

"The necklace," said Legolas, immediately.

"It is not there now," Gandalf said, keeping his tone steady, his gaze fixed on the elf's face.

Legolas's hand suddenly twitched, and his nails dug into the couch's wooden slats. "Yara! Look out!"

"Yara! Look out!"

The girl, tall and with a mane of dark hair, turned at his shout.

"What is it?" she demanded, trying to sound irritated, although her half-smile belied it. "You do this merely to torment me. Go away."

Legolas landed on a tree-branch just above her head, skinning bark-chips with his heels.

"Look out," he teased, "you might get hit with a handful of acorns…"

The afore-mentioned acorns peppered her shoulders as she tried to duck.

"Oh, you are in a lot of trouble now -"

She bent swiftly, scooped up half the nuts and gave chase, trying to grab his collar and put them down his neck. He was too quick.

"Stand still and be properly punished, you," Yara gasped, twisting to try and keep him in sight as he vanished up a nearby spruce before she had a chance to even grab at his ankle.

The chase might have continued for several minutes yet - elves are playful creatures in less harrowing times - had not the voice of Legolas' father interrupted it.

"Legolas!"

The trees of Southern Mirkwood seemed to echo. A few birds scattered from the tree canopy. Below, both the girl and her quarry came to an abrupt halt.

"Your father," was Yara's considered opinion, "could be heard from here to Minas Morgul if he wanted to be."

"Hush. Talking of that place here?" Legolas grinned. "His hearing is superb also. He might be displeased."

"Legolas!"

More birds fled the immediate trees in a clatter of wings. The elf looked up into the sky. It had been an uninterrupted blue, as befitted summer in an elf-wood. Now, it was dull, and darkening towards the east.

A feeling of blackness crept into Legolas' mind like a slug entering a rose. Something was coming, and none of it felt good or clean.

He looked across at Yara. Being mortal, she could not feel it the way he could. But she saw some of his fear reflected in his eyes, and without asking, she turned and ran.

Lupa, Yara's older sister, was waiting for them at the edge of the clearing as they ran in together. She was more powerfully built than her sister, and her hair more red, but the similarity between them was obvious. Like Yara, Lupa wore at her throat a leather thong clasping a wolf's claw - the symbol of her family.

"Legolas," she said, and her voice was harsh with exertion. "Your father says you are to follow him as swiftly as you can. Be fully armed."

She handed him his bow, and gave him arrows from her own quiver. Legolas took them, noting in passing that Lupa's tunic was torn, and her short sword missing from its scabbard. His eyes met hers for a brief second, questioning.

"Go quickly," she said, stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled. A horse gave an answering whinny from somewhere nearby in the trees. "Yara, come with me. We're heading back to Beorn's."

"What's happenening?" Legolas asked, hearing even as the words left his mouth the singing of elven-bows from the eastern woods. "Are we under attack? Lupa, tell me."

Her eyes were blank and frightened, and he noticed for the first time the blood leaking from a slim cut on her brow.

"I cannot tell you," she said. "Such malevolence is beyond my words."

"I'm not going," Yara protested. "I have my knives. Legolas has been teaching me…"

Lupa caught the bridles of the two bay horses that came trotting into the glade, and thrust one set of reins at her sister, meaningfully. Yara mounted with bad grace.

Lupa, already in the saddle and patting her lathering horse, gave Legolas a last backward look.

"Why are you still here?" she said, almost sadly - then kicked the beast in the flanks and cantered away, Yara following.

When Legolas reached his father's side, the damage was already done.

"Legolas!" Thranduil shouted, crashing through a bank of bracken. "This way! Hurry!"

"Father, where are we going?"

"There are foul beasts in my forest!" The older elf was almost speechless with fury. "In my forest!"

Legolas stepped on something that did not feel like a log: looked down, and looked into the dead yellow eyes of an orc. It was both the ugliest, and the strangest thing he had ever seen. He drew his foot back in a hurry, staring.

"What - what is this?" he asked, as several Mirkwood archers sprinted past him, bows drawn.

Thranduil paused in his pursuit to answer his son, and his tone was heavy with worry. "They have kidnapped our people," he said. "They came out of the river. I cannot believe they were not spotted."

"Kidnapped? How many?"

The older elf sank down onto a fallen tree, his bow loose in his hands.

"At least thirty. Maybe more."

Legolas started forward instantly. "Then we must follow them - rescue them - father, please -"

The elf-king stood, wearily. "I have never seen so many of these creatures," he said. "There has been no word from the borders, from Osgiliath…why have they come for my people?"

There were shouts and the sound of sword-strokes from just ahead. Legolas shot down two of the beasts who were lagging from the main group as they tried to pass him. His mind was racing.

The question is not "why have they come for my people", Father…the question is, why do they take them and not kill them where they stand?

A horse whickered in terror, and the elves turned to see Lupa galloping toward them, her steed rolling-eyed and dark with sweat.

"Have you seen her?" she demanded, forcing the horse to circle to try and calm it. "Yara, have you seen her?"

"I thought she had followed you…"

"She did," Lupa snapped, grabbing the pommel as her horse reared. "But the stupid girl broke away from me before we reached the main path. I know she was coming back here to fight."

Legolas grabbed the horse's bridle: amid Lupa's protests that the creature was exhausted, he swung up in front of her and rode forward.

"If she dies," Lupa said fiercely against his back as they jolted towards the sounds of battle, "I will hold you responsible, prince of Mirkwood."

Before Legolas could reply, the horse, in a frenzy of panic as it found itself surrounded by orcs, threw them both.

"And then what happened?" said Gandalf, quietly. It had been over an hour since Legolas had begun his tale, and Aragorn was now stood beside Eowyn's chair, listening, his right arm swathed in a supporting sling.

"When I looked up," Legolas said, in the common tongue this time, "Lupa was knelt in the leaf litter a few yards hence, and she was weeping…"

In Lupa's hand was the twisted leather necklace that Yara had been wearing. She clasped it to herself, tears welling up in her pale eyes. Yara's horse lay slaughtered beside her…but there was no corpse to account for its rider.

As Legolas approached Lupa to offer her what comfort he could, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the remains of the Mirkwood troops returning to their king. The chase was obviously lost, and the enemy fled or killed.

Lupa looked up at him, and her face had no forgiveness in it. She stood, in a sharp, hurried motion, and thrust the necklace at him. Her fist slammed into his chest.

"Here," she said. "Take it. I want you to have it, because I want you to remember. You killed her. She always loved you elves. She thought you were wise and beautiful. Well -" and she reached out, snagging her horse's reins - " I don't think that. She loved you, Legolas, because she thought she saw in you something good and great that was so much more than a mortal could ever have."

The horse, neck hanging in exhaustion, responded to its rider's command by shambling into a trot.

"Farewell, Prince," Lupa called back over her shoulder. "Travel to the Havens - and do it soon…"

Legolas was left standing alone by Yara's fallen pony, and by the time his father caught up with him, he had clasped the wolf's claw pendant so hard in his fist that blood was coursing sluggishly through his knuckles.

*sits back and takes a break* Please let me know how you think this is progressing. This isn't all of the story, by any means!! But I'm now off to get a drink, so I'll continue soon…