Sarah is back! Didja miss me? :P Sorry that we didn't give you an early post, but since lots of you guys read SoH as well as this, we generally prefer to alternate posting days with Cassia/Sio so that we don't overwhelm you! :)
reginabean: Nice dance! And nice descriptive two letters there: 'ek'. Does this mean you doubt our abilities to make this a happy/cheery/sunshine-and-roses kind of fic? ;D
Anarril: oo…I foresee owies on Thorongil's part. LOL! Maybe you should buy yourself pointy ears, a white beaded dress, and a birdbath and go into business! ;) Yes, we enjoy a good cliffy, but ours seldom match Cassia and Sio's… *sigh* I'm glad we made you laugh! ;)
Asen: Certainly no fury like Mavranor scorned! She's smart, but she's something like barracuda-meets-woman. Honestly? It's Siri's fault! Um, that Mavranor is nasty, I mean, not that-- oopsie! Can't say. :D I'm thrilled you liked the straight face!! I had a very definite mental picture for that one, and wondered if anyone else would see it. *big grin* As for orc-blood: not a chance! That is, unless you start yelling 'Find the halflings!' and coating yourself in mud… then you might want to worry. :P
Enigma Jade: Wow, we had you that anxious? Amazing. And thanks! :D
RainyDayz: *glances at soggy plushie* Hm, uh, yeah! Good thing! ;D I'm SO glad you liked it!! And I love it when people list details like that! Not that I'm not pleased when people say 'oh wow, the whole chapter was great!', but I'd generally almost rather they only like a few things out of the post and actually mention them. Thanks!!
Lina: Old habits die hard, eh? After all: you've been riding along on Eomer's horse since… *scratches head* golly, I don't quite know how long! Speaking of Eomer: GET OVER HERE, SHE'S MAULING THE VILLAIN! *ahem* And Findel, I assure you, barely even *talks* to Thorongil in this, so you may not maul her either (no matter how jealous you are)! ;D
Eomer: That *sounds* scary. I wouldn't want your job. Even if she did go peacefully this time. :P
None: Perhaps because we're incapable of leaving our heroes alone? ;) Don't worry, we won't kill your elf!
Gwyn: *bows* I'm glad you approve! And we never get to see what Mirkwood thinks about this, to be honest… Probably steaming mad; at least, Thranduil would be. :)
LadyIsabelle: Thanks! Glad you liked it! :)
saber crazy: Nice chicken. ;) And yeah, there's one in every story! Thorongil and Legolas are officially doomed for life in that area. :D
Mouse: Thanks! There's not much action in this one, but we're gearing up; don't worry! :)
Mercredi: Yes, Legolas has been away from his friend too long! He's beginning to forget all of the human's favorite tricks… ;D I think Legolas just doesn't want to face that it happened and he's trying to avoid it by not bringing it up. He also feels a little guilty, yup! :| The deal with Mavranor is pretty much that -- as much as she is capable of doing so (being the selfish person she is) -- she really does love two people in her life: her husband and her brother. For Harnwe she's a little more blunt (she tells him when he's goofed, even if she does believe that whatever the Southrons as a people do is okay), but for Gwanur she has more of the 'my darling baby brother can do absolutely no wrong' attitude (we decided she'd raised him mostly by herself). Thus in her eyes the idol of her childhood has just been murdered-in-cold-blood, not killed-while-making-a-really-stupid-move-and-getting-other-people-slain-pointlessly. *sigh* Yeah, she's a little wonky just now. ;) Why of *course* we must beat up the heroes! *smiles innocently* Thank you so much! :)
Elwen: Yeah, he's been through a lot. *evil smile* But not nearly enough! Mwahahaha… Oh, er, yes: we're posting! :D
Cassia: WOW! *throws a party for Cassia-the-signed-in* We are very honored. ;D And we're *so* glad you liked it!! In fact, so glad that we are going to honor your request. *digs through files* Let's see what else we can do to these two… ]:D
phoenix queen: First off: WE LOVE YOU TOO, PHEONIX!! And -- whoa, Cassia and Sio? Really? *turns beet red and grins idiotically* Gee, thanks! :D Yeah, clearly nobody gave the Southrons the Mellon Chronicles Handbook when they captured Legolas, or they might have been more careful… ;) Thorongil doesn't like blood feuds, blood feuds like HIM! ;D No, we don't favor a cold uncaring Thranduil, but it's a long trip to and from Lorien, so Thranduil's probably only just now beginning to wonder what's keeping his son. ?:| Legolas is, as you say, not good at keeping secrets indefinitely from his best mellon. Pretty? We'll see… ;) And quote away! We enjoy quotes, really, because specifics are always so much fun. We derive twice as much enjoyment out of a single specific than out of three one-line posts that tell us 'the whole chapter was great'! 'Wooping'? Well… :D Congrats on your successful signing!! *hands out more luck* Half that is for your second performance and the other half is for that paper. (20 pages?? Ack!) :D
w: Thank you ever so much!! The more serious aspect was one reason we really felt Aragorn's errantries should be covered; it seemed like such an interesting transition time to us! And believable? There are few compliments so wonderful as that. ;D *gives w flowers* They're from Findel! It's really a relief that, in spite of a semi-rocky start, she's beginning to gain approval. Now if we can just ease her over one last Mary-Sue-drifting-bump (several chapters from now), we should be all set! ;) Once more: you have the eyes of an elf, w! You have again caught us in the middle of an OIG (or in this case OWG): Oops, We Goofed! I suppose we will go with the excuse that he was just 'more out of it than we thought', as you suggested, but the honest truth is that we forgot. Sorry about that! :{ *bows* And thank you so much on the grammar! I've actually been trying to fix that particular little foible as we post. It's funny how, once you know what to look for, you suddenly wonder why you never saw it…? ;D
Okay, another kind of slow chapter…
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Thorongil
By Sarah and Hannah (Siri)
(disclaimers, explanations, and summaries
available at the top of chapter 1)
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Chapter 15
The Long Story
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'Nor indeed am I a stranger; for I have been in this land before, more than once, and ridden with the host of the Rohirrim, though under other name and in other guise.'
— Aragorn, The Two Towers
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The first thing Legolas saw when he awoke was an empty tent. He blinked slowly, trying to gauge the time of day from the way the light and shadows shifted on the roof above him. It looked to be late afternoon or evening. Meaning it was the next day and his friend had either drugged him heavily or else drugged him repeatedly. Or perhaps he had been more tired than he had thought.
He shifted, raising himself up on his elbows. A sharp pain caught him as his thin body, too long confined to one position, protested, but it was not as bad as when he had first lain down. He looked about for some sign of what had called his friend away, but there seemed to be nothing amiss and he pulled himself to a standing position, stretching gingerly and grimacing, "Fine thing to do, Strider: abandoning me in a camp full of semi-superstitious humans." He smiled, knowing he had not been forgotten, but he also lifted a long strip of bandaging material and tied it about his head in an impromptu head band. It served to cover his ears, the only thing about his rather less than tidy appearance that gave him away as being different.
The flap of the tent lifted to admit a dark haired man, and Legolas scolded dangerously, "You're a miserable, wicked, back-stabbing human and after a trick like that I really ought to hurt you — no matter what your intentions were."
The man stopped short, staring openmouthed, "I-I beg pardon."
Legolas started and his head flew up, recognizing abruptly that, though possessing the same coloring, the new arrival was most certainly not Strider. "No, indeed — it is I who should apologize; I believed you to be someone else."
The man was already backing out, "It matters not. I was told that the captain had this tent, and — but I was mistaken."
"But he does!" Legolas assured him quickly, taking a chance that the captain the man was referring to was Strider. "Please, sit; he will be back soon I'm sure, and you look weary."
The man sat awkwardly on the edge of the cot and accepted the elf's offer of water, but all the while Legolas could sense his uncertainty. Whatever the soldier had expected to find in his captain's tent, it hadn't been a hostile and badly damaged elf — or damaged man, as it appeared to him.
"Is there something amiss?" Legolas asked, chiefly to make conversation, but the man immediately stiffened, as if suspecting a spy.
"Not exactly," he hedged.
There was a long silence, during which the dark haired man cast increasingly wary glances at the elf and Legolas sat back in the shadows, hoping to minimize the discomfort of the situation.
Abruptly the soldier asked, "Did Captain Thorongil say when he was going to be back?"
//Thorongil??// "No, I'm afraid not."
Another silence. The suspicious glances turned even darker and the man seemed to be working up to something. Finally he demanded, in a voice clipped with distrust, "Why were you threatening the captain? I assume it was for him that you mistook me."
Legolas almost felt inclined to laugh at the protectiveness in the bristling expression of the soldier before him, //What is it about Estel that attracts these sorts of people?// "I'm sorry about that —" he paused interrogatively.
A terse grunt: "Duurben."
"Duurben. It was a jest on my part, and not intended to be serious in any way. Your captain and I have been friends for a great many years, and as you may know such familiarity often breeds a peculiar sort of humor."
The initial expression on Duurben's face inclined Legolas to believe that he did not in fact know, but it smoothed into something else. Almost a sort of curiosity, if the elf could have thought that of such a soldier.
"I see. And how, may I ask, did you come to be here at such a time?" the question was less hostile.
"Not through any design of my own. I was taken by Southrons far north of here, and was found in their camp by the Rohirrim."
Duurben looked up in surprise, "What were the Rohirrim doing in the Southron camp?"
Legolas blinked, "I thought you would have known."
The soldier shook his head mutely, offering no explanation.
"There was a prisoner exchange with the enemy. It did not turn out well, I believe, but beyond that I am unsure of the particulars. I was not terribly alert at the time."
"And the captain went along?"
Legolas' tone was dry, "If you have known him for very long at all, I'm certain you already know the answer."
Duurben's mouth curved almost imperceptibly, "Aye. Has he always been like this, then?"
The elf nodded, accepting the more conversational tone in the other's voice, "Very much so. I suppose it is in his blood."
"Oh?" the syllable had the faintest undertone of innocence.
Legolas shifted painfully, and nodded again, but offered no more on the subject. "How long *have* you known him?" he asked instead.
"Since he arrived in Gondor three years ago, though I have only served directly under him for two years. The first I met him was on the battle field, fighting against King Muindor of the Southrons; the same who is even now attacking our borders. He had command of a small company of archers that he led close to challenge their war beasts. It was a brave move, but considered foolhardy by some." Duurben stared at the walls of the tent, glowing faintly with the late noon sun outside, as if he were seeing beyond them.
"What happened?" the elven prince prompted.
"Through some means or other, the company slew fully three of the monsters. Unaided. More than half the men died or were fearfully injured, including the captain himself. He was found by the remainder of his men, half buried beneath the last corpse." Duurben looked up, meeting the elf's eyes, "To this day I do not know how he survived. But he did, and the Steward made him a captain — only to leave him in the city guard, largely ignored."
"If it is any consolation, Duurben, I doubt Thorongil minded," Legolas said, using the odd name, but not without a flicker of hesitance. "Men like him: so thoroughly caught up in the safety of others, and heedless of their own gain — it is not in his nature to enjoy renown. He always preferred quiet, if it could be had. Such men once existed throughout Middle Earth: who fought bravely out of need, without sparing themselves; yet did not hold battle up as a pursuit unto itself. And it is your privilege to be serving under one of the few left of that race."
The elf's words seemed to refer back to old battles, close escapes, and long travels of which Duurben knew nothing; but the soldier could easily sense the respect and long friendship lying there. For perhaps the first time since his oddly greeted entrance, he fully relaxed.
"As for survival," the elf added on a lighter note, "he is the happy possessor of the skills of healing and the blessings of Ilúvatar himself — else there is no explanation for his continued existence."
"Might one suppose that he had help as well?" Duurben asked shrewdly.
"One might," Legolas agreed cautiously, not wishing to give either himself or Thorongil's adoptive father away. Glancing up for a new thread for the conversation, he frowned at the dimming daylight, "He is late."
Suddenly Duurben started. "Breon!"
"Who?" asked Legolas, surprised.
"My horse — it had passed from my mind, but she is still tethered outside. I must get her to her stall; she deserves more rest even than I. Will you simply tell the captain that I was here and that I must speak with him soon?"
"Of course," Legolas reassured him, smiling inwardly at the man's concern for his animal. Some elves he had met narrowly believed men to be far too calloused to understand animals. Such elves had, of course, spent little or no time around humans.
With a final nod and a gesture of farewell, Duurben turned. He paused for a moment in the entrance, "I am pleased to have met you. Though you have spoken but little, you are just the sort of man with whom I should have imagined the captain would be friends."
Legolas realized that he had just been paid the man's highest compliment.
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When Thorongil entered his tent, it was to confronted with a very alert elf who was clearly not going to take 'wait' for an answer.
"It's 'later'," Legolas announced firmly.
"You're up earlier than I would have thought," the captain observed, shrugging off his cloak and pulling the tent flap closely shut against the chill of the evening air. "But then, you always did heal faster than I."
"Getting out of that camp was a great relief to me," Legolas replied. "Not to mention seeing you again. But you are changing the subject, *Thorongil*."
The owner of the title sank on to the edge of cot next to him, smiling tiredly, "I wondered how you would react to that. Do I not look like a Thorongil?"
"It's not that; it is merely that I believe you have quite enough extra names," Legolas returned laughingly. "'Estel', 'Strider' and now yet another one. When will it end?"
"This from someone whose species delights in naming and renaming everything they lay their eyes on," Thorongil retorted, snorting aloud at Legolas' look of pretended injury. "As it happens, I am no more responsible for this newest title than for either of the others you have mentioned. But I don't recall passing it on to you."
"You forgot to. Duurben came bursting in while you were gone, and since I had already taken precautionary measures," Legolas lightly tapped his covered ears, wincing a little as he did, "I made free to gather what little information I could from him."
Thorongil rose to retrieve his medicines again, ignoring the elf's scowl, "I did not realize that he had returned! If he has abandoned so much native propriety as to enter my tent without announcing himself, something urgent must have occurred." He appeared to be contemplating immediate departure to find his lieutenant, but Legolas grabbed his sleeve and met his eyes steadily.
"Please, Strider. I have not seen you for several years and have missed you sorely. Will you not tell me a little of what has happened since we parted last? I should prefer to hear it from you than from Duurben or Kelegalen."
Thorongil sat again, "Of course, Legolas. I'm sorry, I did not think; I have been hurrying about so much of late, I have rather misplaced the art of resting. And I have missed you as well." He pulled out a salve, taking off the elf's head band and examining the cuts on his face, "I've often wished that I could have persuaded you to join me. Duurben is a good friend, but he is very much set on being a good lieutenant also, and I am not used to the sort of paradoxical relationship that has taken shape between us. I should have much preferred to have stayed a common soldier so that we could have met as equals; that was all I set out to be. I wished to learn more of the ways of my own people, and not just the Dúnedain. You know that my father both agreed and encouraged me, and after leaving you I disguised myself as a nameless soldier and came to Rohan. They are a friendly people, generally, and accepted me readily, teaching me their language and their songs and histories."
Legolas caught the faint satisfaction in his friend's voice. Though Thorongil had been accepted in Rivendell and Mirkwood alike, it had been by no means instantaneous. As a human surrounded by elves, the young Estel had found himself often out matched, out run, and outside the circle of all but his adoptive father and brothers. Slowly, over nearly thirty years, he had carved out a niche in both his own elven home and that of Legolas, but it had been an arduous undertaking and the swift approval, without thought or question, must have been as pleasing as it was startling.
"They also taught me to ride," Thorongil was still speaking, "such as I had never thought possible for any other than elves. I served for seven years under various captains, including the Chief Marshal for the latter years, and met King Thengel at that time. I also gained a new name to fill my supposed lack: 'Thorongil', 'eagle of the star', because I always wore the same brooch. Then I moved on to Gondor, and within a year I was firmly entangled in a captaincy." The man's tone was mildly disgusted.
"Come now, Strider, you cannot tell me nothing good came of it," Legolas chided, and flinched again as his friend's fingers brushed a particularly infected welt.
"Perhaps," Thorongil conceded grudgingly. "It was good at least to be able to see to my men personally, rather than to be left wishing someone else might act; I had some control over their well being. But I am thoroughly unused to the sort of authority with which I have been entrusted. The Dúnedain give me honor as their leader, but in the wilds such honor has no opportunity to become ceremonial or cumbersome. Here…" he shook himself, "but I stray. I have since served in the guard of the citadel, and it was there, several months later, that Duurben was transferred to my company and I first met him. He had participated in a border skirmish in which I had also been called to play a part and so I'm afraid he observed me with a sort of combined hero-worship and unwavering curiosity; I swear that he has been the most difficult man to hold my secret from since I left home ten years ago!"
"I gathered as much," Legolas said dryly. "He attempted to glean some information from me as well, in spite of the fact that I mistakenly threatened him."
"You did what?" Thorongil was rinsing his hands clean in a wooden basin, and now he stared.
"I thought it was you entering, and that *was* a horrible trick to play on me, no matter how often Lord Elrond used it."
Thorongil laughed suddenly, nearly upsetting the basin, "You know perfectly well what an incredibly stubborn personality is yours, Legolas Greenleaf! I should actually have been surprised you stayed abed as long as you did. However," and he turned serious again, "I hereby forbid you from doing anything strenuous until your strength returns. Your injuries may not be the worst you have suffered, but you are weaker than you admit. I won't have you charging off for Lórien again, half cured, and turning up on your father's doorstep as a ghost. Whatever the message was, it was not worth loss of life!"
Thorongil had expected an argument, but surprisingly the elf said nothing. His face was almost devoid of expression as he nodded.
The captain eased the elf's head band back over his ears and gestured that he should lie down. "Rest some more, and if you wish we can talk later. Just now I must go find Duurben and see what kept him."
"Yes, Captain," Legolas replied obediently.
"Don't you dare," Thorongil warned. "'Thorongil', or else I'll start calling you 'prince' and give you away in front of all Rohan."
TBC…