Sarah once more! (person in back: hooraaaaay.)
LadyIsabelle: You like elven hearing too? *grins enthusiastically* So do we! It's such a useful feature. ;)
Gwyn: Oooh, the evil writer's block!! *shrieks and hides* Hope you lose it soon! Hannah and I both had a couple really bad cases of it while writing this. :P Glad you're liking it, and hope you like our action when it comes! :)
RainyDayz: That wasn't a groan, that was a 'yehaa!'; though of course, not because ff.net was giving you fits! We know how *that* can be. *glowers* Congratulations: you have completely caught every single kind-of-Meldir-reference to date!! We wondered if anyone would notice those… The remaining question being of course: will Thorongil notice? More specifically before he winds up unintentionally making Legolas feel even worse. ;) Thanks, by the way: some people find our sense of humor rather frightening. ;D And it's okay Rainy! Really, we weren't sure whether anyone would remember Stavhold or not; his part in Death or Despair wasn't terribly memorable. He kind of summed it up in the stable there, but if you want to look him up in D or D again: he was introduced in chapter 3, lost the sight in his right eye in chapter 7, and refused to help Aragorn, Legolas and Kelegalen in chapter 10. Probably chapter 10 is the one you'd be most interested in! :) Thank you so much!!!
None: You had problems too? So did Rainy. It's okay, though, we *completely* understand! ;) Thank you so much on their conversation!! With so many great Aragorn/Legolas writers out there (*ahem* Cassia *ahem* Sio) we have a lot to live up to if we want to write this genre. ;)
Staran: Thanx!! :D
Mercredi: Thank you first of all on Legolas' senses (very useful things: elven senses) and our Strider summary!! *grins and hugs self cheerfully* I love it when people like the parts I really wanted them to like. ;) As for the 'man fighting man' idea: a very big hug for you! Whenever we try to address that sort of thing there is always the worry we will go too far, or not far enough, or some other such twiddle or twaddle. :P It's so great to find out we have done neither! :D And Stavhold? I rather hope that myself. *sits back to watch story as if she has no control over it whatsoever* ;)
Marianna: Welcome, welcome!! We so much love new readers, no matter how tardy they *think* they are. ;)
Anarril: Owies? Soon? Oh, um, we're working on it. :D Glad you liked that line!! And ah the trickiness of SSC (Siblings Sharing Computers). With eight siblings, it got really tricky before Hannah(Siri), Chloe and I each got laptops. :P
w: Thank you so very much! We read your review right after we got up this morning (around sixish) and it started our day off just right. i.e. we grinned at each other and forgot to gripe about early rising on school mornings. ;) Thorongil will address what he's been noticing soon! I'm glad our method of handling that went over well; we were battling between having Thorongil notice and not having it seem so urgent that he would up and demand to know what was going on. About our tension: we're so relieved we aren't losing you with this! We hadn't originally intended for everything to take so long… :} And a special thank you on the Stavhold scene, which was rather a pet of mine, in spite of its brevity. Such bits of feedback make me guess at what a mother must feel like when she's told her children are pretty. ;D Wow, though -- that counted as a cliffy? Cool! Er, I mean, uh, sorry about that. ;) You're right: the day Thorongil and Legolas manage to do something simply will be the day Sauron chucks his own ring into Mt. Doom and turns to a life of giving candy out to hobbit children and replanting trees in Fangorn on the weekends. :D
Here is your new post! Enjoy! :D
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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 17
'You helped me through.'
The sky above was heavy with stars and the air was still. The rush of the Anduin overcame the thrum of the insects in the trees, and covered the faint *shhhhhh* of something being pulled up the grassy banks. Several thumps sounded as the thing reached rougher ground and bounced over hidden stones.
"Careful," Kelegalen cautioned, "we know not how far afield their sentries are stationed."
Stavhold nodded in the dark and steadied the small boat that he and Duurben had shared. Legolas was pulling the grass close over a second boat and Thorongil had slipped a little further on to aid Thalion and Nethtalt. They had crossed without mishap, though the river was wide and choppy during this season and it had taken nearly an hour of steady work. The air fogged before them as they exhaled.
"Thorongil, take Gálmod and Legolas south and look for sentries. We will scout along the edge of the wood and find a place to hide until morning," Kelegalen instructed softly.
When the three men returned, Nethtalt met them at the boats and led them into the trees for a ways until they reached a small hollow in the earth where the roots of a giant tree had once burrowed. The tree itself now lay full length in the loam behind them, the roots tangled through air instead of soil.
Thorongil gave his report briefly, "Several miles on the wood recedes northwards and we could see tents faintly in the moonlight, but we went no closer. There appear to be no sentries whatsoever; perhaps they are trusting too much that their presence here has gone unnoticed."
"Good," Kelegalen nodded. "We will wait until daylight, then."
The men made shift for themselves on the ground, Legolas taking the first watch. Thorongil turned as he settled himself and caught sight of his friend, perched on the trunk of the fallen tree above their heads. The elf was gazing towards the river again, his whole body as still as a statue cut from marble. His eyes seemed to be shining in the faint light from the stars, but he blinked and the glitter was gone. Frowning thoughtfully, Thorongil closed his eyes and slept.
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A crow cawed from deeper in the wood, and the sound startled Thorongil awake. It was early dawn and he shook dew from his cloak as he stood and looked about. Legolas and Nethtalt were already awake, speaking in low voices as they cleaned their bows a little further away. The only other was Thalion who was still on watch.
"How was the night?"
"Uneventful," the man replied, with an early morning cheerfulness that Thorongil had decided must be the natural attribute of fathers with energetic sons. Thalion nodded towards Legolas, "Your young friend gave me a bit of a scare: he was awake late. I passed him to get some water from my flask and thought for a moment he was dead — his eyes did not seem to see me — but when I exclaimed in surprise, he sat up and was perfectly fine; except that he wondered what was wrong."
"Aye," Thorongil said casually, avoiding laughter at the man's mistake by a narrow margin. "He has been known to do that, but there is nothing amiss with him." He did not say that the news was actually a relief to him; he had worried that Legolas might not be recovered enough to journey with them. It seemed all was well, but he would have to warn him of the dangers of sleeping normally.
"I'm glad to hear it," Thalion nodded agreeably. "He does not speak much and has a rather odd quality about him at times, but I have grown to like him already. He beat Gálmod in a shooting match the day before we left."
"Do you dislike Gálmod also?" Thorongil's eyebrow rose, glancing at the darker haired Rohirrim who was also now awake and seeing to his weapons, but out of earshot.
"He is the finest archer I had ever met before Legolas," Thalion admitted, "and an excellent horseman, but he is not the kindliest of men. In a cool, calculating fashion he understands both his own skill and the deficiencies of others, and when one has a talent for shrewd, yet openly critical speech… Shall I say that the results are sometimes poorly received by others?"
"Easily understood and quite diplomatic," Thorongil smiled.
"One develops whatever skills are necessary for a peaceful life," Thalion intoned humorously, stroking his short beard.
"And what might a harness maker need with diplomacy?"
"He means Rokhiell," Nethtalt said, grinning. "Thalion was injured when they were captured and Findel told me your wife was none too pleased at you leaving again so soon."
"And she claims that *I* worry too easily," Thalion sighed. "We have been married for twenty-five summers; we have survived harsh weather, poverty, illness, the loss of our daughters (we had twins before Aldor), and now the destruction of our home. You would imagine after so much experience, two people could begin to trust each other's abilities. Not so."
"Not unusual either," Legolas shrugged, glancing for a half second at Thorongil.
"Women," Gálmod proclaimed, "are Ilúvatar's greatest mysteries."
"And you would claim to know something of this?" Kelegalen asked lightly, but his eyes clouded just slightly; perhaps with memories of his own wife, long ago.
"I would," the archer said casually as he shouldered his quiver.
"Whoever this maiden is, I would assume you have not declared yourself, else your observation would seem strange," Thalion jested, lifting his light pack.
"Not yet, but she will not refuse, I am quite certain." Gálmod laughed in a low way that was meant to be self deprecating, "If nothing else, her alternative partner could only be aptly compared to suicide!"
There was something grating in his triumphant words, and the cheerful atmosphere seemed to evaporate with the dew. Kelegalen, for no seeming reason, rested his hand lightly on his son's shoulder.
"We ought to set out," Stavhold said quietly, his first words since they had crossed the Anduin the night before. "If we linger, we may yet be discovered."
"Aye," Kelegalen nodded. "Come men, we shall split from here. Thorongil shall take Legolas, Duurben, and Thalion and go straight south, and I shall take the others and angle southeast. Remember: caution."
The wood grew warmer as the sun rose above the trees, and Thorongil bundled his cloak into a tight roll and tied it on his back. They were walking towards the place he had visited the night before; where the forest ended and the encampment began. The captain gestured for the others to tread more silently, and they obeyed, though Thalion seemed unused to the forest. Duurben had taken up the role or rearguard and Legolas that of scout — for he moved in near silence over the discarded leaves
At last the wood thinned to a light scattering of trees, many of which had been chopped down for firewood. Beyond that…
Thorongil stared. In the dark he had not realized just how vast the encampment was. It stretched on alongside the river, farther than his human eye could see. There was a stunned silence. How could the Rohirrim possibly defeat so many?
Abruptly, at his side, Duurben frowned, "Captain, the tents…"
"There must be hundreds of them," Thalion agreed from Duurben's other side.
"No, I meant their arrangement. These are Southron tents, assuredly, but they are too far spread out, and no order has been used in their erection."
Thorongil frowned also, trying to focus on the layout of the camp rather than the size — and suddenly he understood. "This is not a military camp."
"How do you know?" Thalion asked in surprise.
"Duurben and I have seen Southron military camps before: the tents are arranged in rows so as to conserve space. As you can clearly see, these are not; only independent men would set up their dwellings like this."
"Independent families," Legolas corrected, his gray eyes tense and focused. "Most of humans moving down there are female, or else children. I only see a few men, and they wear no armor."
"You have good eyes," Thalion complimented him, "or else age is approaching me swiftly; I cannot see them."
"Why would King Harnwe have brought all his people with him?" Duurben queried, staring as the camp began to drift awake and smoke began to curl from campfires. "They must have encumbered his march badly, and yet clearly they are not here to fight."
"They must intend to make their home here," Legolas said logically, "or more specifically: in your homes."
"They shan't have ours," Thalion muttered quietly. "Not that they would want it; the roof has fallen in and it smells of smoke." There was a dull humor in his words.
"Whatever their intent, we will not make war on women and children. We have seen enough here; come, let us return along the wood's edge. If there is anything more to see, we will see it, but I rather think this journey has been worthless." Thorongil shifted backwards from behind their concealing bush.
"I could not say with honesty that I am disappointed," Duurben admitted.
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Thorongil's party had waited through the sunset and the twilight and slept fitfully. The night was beginning to wane when the snap of a twig finally proclaimed the return of Kelegalen and his men. Their faces were grim.
"What did you find?" Thalion asked, his eyes meeting those of his friend with concern. Kelegalen was looking old, and even with his gray hair, he did not often look so.
"Much," he sighed, and sank to the ground beside them. "We did not find what we expected in the way of *men*." Kelegalen's gaze drifted to Thorongil.
"Women and children only," came the prompt agreement.
"Aye. But farther east and we discovered they have been heavily at work." He paused. "They are making catapults — large enough to throw stones the size of horses. We counted twenty in all: crafted from trees chopped in these very woods."
Legolas' eyes closed; he understood, as did the others about him, how much of a disaster this was. King Thengel was almost completely dependant on his walls, no matter how weak they might be, and he had no means to assault and destroy such weapons in the battle field. Whereas with ten of these catapults per fort, it would be the height of simplicity for Harnwe to stand back and hurl Ladin and Medui to the ground — with the barest loss of life amongst his own troops. It was all too clear.
"So that is why they have not attacked again," Duurben murmured. "They have been building."
"Indeed," Kelegalen nodded heavily, "and there is no hope that we can bluff them into believing our strength lies elsewhere, for they have read the proof of it in our battle strategy. It seems, Duurben, that the message you redelivered carried more damaging information than we had supposed. It has bared our weak place."
"What do you plan to do?" Legolas asked.
"Nothing; at least, not yet. We have no way to unmake the machines or thwart their plans now. Come, the night will soon be gone."
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… I still was so afraid
Of the loneliness inside
That I'd run away and hide
What I was looking for was you
You helped me through
How could I know what it could do?
— Artist Unknown
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In the predawn hours, the Anduin rippled and flickered between gray and midnight in color. The men did not attempt silence as they had when landing, now that they knew what truly lived on the eastern side of the river.
"Normally we would haul the boats northwards by hand until we could be sure that the drag of the current wouldn't pull us too far south of our landing," Stavhold explained to Duurben as the two of them pulled their boat free of the reeds. "But because Kelegalen intends to spy out the enemy camp farther downstream, we will only need to carry these a little ways before we set out."
"That is good," Duurben agreed ruefully as they hefted the stout boat to their shoulders. The followed the rest and traveled a quarter mile north; then the boats were lowered into the current.
In the east, a pale finger of dawn prodded the iron gray sky and Thorongil shoved off, third in the line of boats, and slipped in front Legolas while the elf kept the boat steady. They struck out, rowing with firm strokes; no sound reached them but the rush of the mighty river, and the *shllefff* of the paddles entering the water.
For a time no words were spoken between the two friends and the uncomfortable silence weighed on them both. Thorongil heard Legolas' paddling behind him, but the noise seemed distant. It was as though Legolas was avoiding him, even though it was impossible in such a small space. The elf had drawn himself into a silent corner of his own mind.
After a further quiet moment Thorongil spoke abruptly with a sigh, breaking the silence and causing Legolas to jump uncharacteristically, "Legolas, please tell me what troubles you."
"Troubles me?" Legolas questioned with forced perplexity, but did not look up at his friend.
"Something has been pressing upon your heart since I found you and though you have closely guarded both word and thought, it shows," Thorongil replied. "You are recovered, yet still constantly in pain. I know you do not wish to tell me, but I cannot be silent, my friend. Nor should you be."
Thorongil's words were meant to leave no space for denial or argument, but still it seemed an eternity before the elf spoke quietly, "You have sight beyond your years, Estel." And then he continued, still more softly, "I did not reveal a full truth when I told you my story. I had not come alone as I said… I had a companion. Meldir. You may remember him."
Thorongil did not reply, anxious that his friend should not fall silent, and Legolas resumed; his voice breaking gently as the words seemed forced from him: flowing free like water too long held behind a dam. There was no struggle to remember the details; they were as fresh as newly drawn blood.
"He had come as my bodyguard and my companion. When we reached the Anduin, we stumbled upon the camp of Southrons and they cornered us against the river — we had no where to run, nothing to do but stand and defend ourselves as best we might. We didn't understand what they wanted, but we both knew it was a fight we had little hope of winning. Meldir saved my life…at the cost of his own." The last words were whispered so quietly they were nearly drowned out in the rush of the water. Still Thorongil spoke not, but though his friend did not see it, the captain closed his eyes at the words. Legolas pressed forward, his voice shaking almost out of his control, "They did not even give him a respectful burial. They did not care that they… they did not care." Legolas looked up suddenly and through his blurred vision he saw Thorongil looking back at him in agonized sorrow.
As Legolas had feared, now that he had spoken, his memory again took hold of him. A thousand pictures moved across his vision -- sounds flashed through his mind -- and the pain welled up in his soul once more, threatening to stifle him. The prince dropped his gaze and closed his eyes slowly, his unshed tears falling at last from his eyes and sliding down his cheeks.
For a long moment, he was bound tightly -- alone in the dark with Meldir's blood still wet on his sleeve and the image of the elf's clouded gaze burned upon the inside of his closed eyelids. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at the man across from him. It was day; Thorongil's eyes were brilliant against the light of early dawn and deep within them there was a powerful compassion. In his heart, the man was troubled; he would gladly give whatever assurance or understanding he could to cast out the shadows in his friend's heart, but now he feared there was nothing he could say.
But it was enough. For a time, the simple presence of his friend held Legolas in a security he had not known in many long days. He was no longer alone in the boat.
At last Thorongil spoke, his words slipping into the elven tongue. "Legolas," he said softly, "I know that I can say nothing that will mend the hurt… I wish with all that is in me that I could. I grieve at the undeserved pain that has been dealt you; I grieve for the loss of Meldir. I do remember him; he was an honor to his kind and a valiant warrior, and though only briefly, he was my friend as well."
Legolas nodded numbly, he knew that Thorongil was at a loss of what to say, but the words, spoken softly in his own tongue, eased the burden from his heart.
"I shall miss him, Strider." Legolas spoke softly, his voice distant, spanning weary miles and countless years, but no longer strained.
Thorongil nodded, "I know."
"I—I feel responsible," Legolas whispered, more to himself than his friend. "I was not wary or cautious when it could have saved his life; it was as much my responsibility to protect him as it was his to protect me."
"Legolas," Thorongil's voice became firm, but was still gentle, "you should not blame yourself for what cannot be changed and could not be prevented. It is through no fault of yours that Meldir fell defending his prince. It was a choice he made, Legolas, and he made it fully knowing the consequences of his actions."
"How can I believe that?" the question was stark and hollow.
"Do you believe he was your friend?"
"Yes," the elf whispered.
"Then how can you deny it?"
The elf sighed, but it was a broken sigh, with nothing held in. His eyes were still glassy, but when Thorongil caught their gaze, there were the beginnings of acceptance in the stormy gray.
"Thank you, Strider."
"You're—" Thorongil's reply was broken off by a faint shout of alarm and loud splash.
Turning in their seats, the others caught sight of Stavhold and Duurben's boat completely overturned in the water — its shiny wet underside glistening in the sun. Stavhold had apparently spent much time in boats, for he righted the vessel and slid back into his seat almost immediately, catching up his paddle and keeping the boat from yawing off course. Legolas relaxed almost before his body had a chance to tense and waited for Duurben to swim the short distance back to his boat… But though he was paddling, the current still pulled him further from Stavhold by the heartbeat, until he was nearly directly behind Thorongil and Legolas' boat.
Abruptly from his side, Thorongil gave a short cry of remembrance, "He cannot swim!" The boat bucked suddenly as the captain plunged into the icy water, and Legolas fought to hold it, staring in shock first at the empty seat in front of him, and then over his shoulder. His friend's head broke the surface after a shallow dive and Thorongil swam quickly, fighting the current and easing towards the place where Duurben's head now broke the surface briefly, gasping.
Catching the floundering soldier under the arms and hauling his head above the water, Thorongil began swimming again, one handed. Stavhold's boat was too far upstream to reach, so Legolas maneuvered his boat closer instead. Shifting all the way to the right side of the boat, the elf leaned as far over as he could to balance the craft without risking the overturning it, and Thorongil's hand, blue at the knuckles, finally clutched the gunwales. Hoisting his exhausted lieutenant as high as he could, he pushed him halfway in, allowing Legolas to grab Duurben's arms and pull him in the rest of the way.
"Strider, here!" Legolas called, offering his hand as the boat pitched again, threatening to capsize.
"No," Thorongil gasped, his wet hair slapping his face as he shook his head, "too dangerous." With that, he released the side and struck out again. Legolas stared, wondering what in Middle Earth the human thought he was doing. A moment later, Thorongil began to push himself upstream and his intentions became clear. In response, Stavhold released some of his control and let his boat drift further downstream towards the struggling swimmer.
Thorongil again grabbed at the gunwales, just catching himself with his left hand when his right slipped, and Stavhold braced the boat and pulled him in.
"Are you hurt?" the man asked quickly, his own face wet and his eye patch drizzling a small stream of water down his cheek.
Thorongil shook his head once. "And you?" he asked.
Stavhold gave a humorless, but rare half smile, "Cold."
With the added weight of Duurben, who was temporarily too exhausted to paddle, Legolas' boat was beginning to turn. Putting all his strength behind his paddling, the elf forced the boat straight again and held it, feeling the paddle tremble in his hands; he had recovered from his imprisonment, but the fight to hold the boat on his own was tiring him. His hair, soaked with rapidly chilling sweat, clung to his forehead and darkened his head band.
"Here," Duurben said, pushing his own dripping hair back and lifting Thorongil's abandoned paddle, "I'll not be merely an extra burden."
Legolas smiled slightly at the man's dogged expression. He did not say anything, but a moment later the soldier explained with a sort of gruff dejection,
"The largest body of water near my home in my youth was only a few feet in depth. Some skills must be learned early, or not at all."
"Not necessarily," Legolas demurred. "Determination will carry you far, Duurben; you limit yourself sadly."
"It is only that I seem to always be finding myself laid up when I am needed." Duurben shrugged, looking fixedly ahead, then added shortly, "Swimming has not been necessary until very recently; I rather doubt it will be needful again."
"I was not speaking of swimming," Legolas retorted.
They rowed in silence until they reached the other side and Nethtalt pulled their boat in. Legolas draped his cloak about Duurben's shoulders, ignoring the protest, and sat on a nearby stone, resting his hands on his knees until they stopped shaking and his breath became even. A moment later Thorongil was standing beside him, steam rising faintly from his dripping clothing as the sun finally cleared the hills and sparse trees about them.
"You know, of course, that you look like a drowned rat, Thorongil," the elf said mildly.
"Thank you, Legolas," the captain returned in a contrastingly dry tone, wringing the water from his tunic and hair as Stavhold and Duurben did the same. "That is precisely what I needed to hear."
"I apologize, I did not mean to—" Duurben began, but Stavhold waved him down and Thorongil advised,
"Do not begin and I will not have to cut you off. It was no fault of yours, and therefore you may have none of the blame." He half smiled, "Perhaps everyone should follow our example before we press on, for I have heard that cold water is good for alertness."
Duurben shrugged noncommittally, "I have heard that said of death threats as well; perhaps we ought to take everyone hostage."
Thorongil stared. "Duurben, was that a jest?"
The lieutenant blinked, his forehead creasing in a worried frown, "I did not intend to be taken seriously, no sir."
Legolas smiled silently at Thorongil's thunderstruck expression.
"The Valar should be more careful about dropping miracles in on the heads of unsuspecting men," Thorongil stated firmly, shaking his head amazement.
Kelegalen handed his own cloak to Thorongil, "We are to the north of the enemy yet, but we must be cautious; we cannot risk the loss of our knowledge of the enemy's plans."
"Father!" the call came from just over the low rise behind them. They made their way between the few trees and found Nethtalt crouched over a brown trail, threading just beside one of the rock faces that sprang out of the land here and there at this point in the land. His fingers brushed it lightly, looking up the trail as it went north, and then down to where it traveled toward the Southron camp.
"What could they need such a path for?" Thorongil murmured, stepping closer and gazing down at it.
Gálmod suggested, "Perhaps they have more troops there?"
"Nay, this trail is only wide enough for one man; and it appears that only two or three use it." Thorongil shook his head, widening his examination of the ground. "More likely it is a scouting outpost, or a livestock pen. Yet the Southrons are not known for keeping horses."
Legolas' eyes narrowed suddenly, "Something is—"
A long blast like a horrible trumpet shattered the morning like a sheet of glass, deafening them. The men stumbled back, covering their ears as the ground rumbled beneath them faintly, and at the rise above their heads there charged into view a huge, gray form.
Duurben stumbled back, the terror of recognition clear in on his face.
"Mûmak!"
TBC…