Chapter Two- A Meeting
Days passed and he continued to skirt the mountains. He did not allow himself to enter the golden wood of Lothlorien, as he knew that he would tarry too long in that fair place. Delaying would place his homeland in even greater danger. Sometimes leading his horse over rougher ground, he passed into the mountains for a while to avoid Lothlorien.
He greatly desired to have speech with Celeborn and Galadriel, the lord and lady of the Golden Wood as he felt that they would have counsel and advice for Thranduil. He remembered tales told to him in childhood of the Lady's foresight and wisdom. His mother would never have lied to him; Galadriel's power could help them now, if only she were asked. But his instructions from Thranduil were to go to Isengard for help, with all speed.
Had his father not sent him to Isengard, he would have gone to Lothlorien to ask for guidance. As it was however, he continued into the mountains to carry out his mission.
L After travelling for many days, he came to the forest of Fangorn and felt its unease. He did not go into the forest but rode around the edge. The more direct route through the old wood could have been dangerous, as orcs were everywhere. He had come across more marauding bands at night but these had passed him by as he now forbore from making fire.
Finally he could see the tower of Orthanc, rising out of the hollow of Isengard in the distance. It stood against the sky like a tall black sword, cleaving the horizon in two. It was a haven of learning. The Istari, the White Council studied and debated within the walls, and in the midst of it, closeted in the Tower, was Saruman the White, leader of the council and great wizard. He was said to be wiser even than Mithrandir, the Grey Wanderer, who was held in high regard by many.
Legolas resolved to reach Isengard by the evening of that day, he could feel the darkness reaching out from the Necromancer's stronghold, and time was short. A chill was in the air, and the plumes of smoke from Dol Guldur had grown blacker and were tinged at the base with red flame.
He kicked sharply at his horse's sides and the animal reared and sprang forwards in one fluid movement. Sensing his urgency it galloped faster than ever before, faster than mortal eyes could follow. But one eye saw, one eye followed them, one flaming red eye in the darkness of Southern Mirkwood. It watched and its owner laughed, a low scraping sound, like metal grating on metal. A terrible sound, but no one heard, not Thranduil in his green halls, not Saruman in Orthanc, and not Legolas on horseback galloping over the Plain of Rohan.
At last the gates of Isengard loomed before him, he slowed his horse to a walk, raised his voice and cried: "My Lords of Isengard! I come from Mirkwood to bring news and a plea for help from my people. Will you grant me admittance to put my request to the council?" As he finished his salutation, he saw movement in a window high in the wall.
"The council is in session, debating an important topic but you are welcome to enter and wait." A high voice called down in reply. The great gates slowly swung open although touched by no hand.
Legolas dismounted and led his horse towards the threshold of Isengard. An ominous feeling stole over him as he entered but he shrugged it off, no one could enter a place of such power and not feel disquiet.
Standing in shadow to one side of the gateway was a tall shape in a hooded cloak. As the figure stepped forward, hands outstretched in greeting, the hood fell back, revealing a young woman's pale face. Glowing in the whiteness of her oval face, were two huge blue eyes, startlingly bright. They seemed to see right through him. They were fringed by long dark lashes, in stark contrast to the paleness of her face. Her hair was cropped short and a colour that he had not seen in any elf, the colour of burnished bronze. Legolas stood in astonishment; he had encountered the race of men before but this girl was unlike any he had ever seen.
She smiled in welcome, "Welcome Master Elf. I am Andlothiel the keeper of the gate. May I know your name?"
Hearing her name, he started in surprise, "You have an elvish name? Yet you are of the race of men, how is that so?" he asked the question almost without thinking.
"My mother became great friends with Gandalf the Grey as a child. I believe he taught her the elvish letters. Now Master Elf, having found out my family history, will you tell me your name or shall I continue questioning forever?" She laughed as she replied.
Had he been human he would have blushed; he was his father's emissary and yet was behaving like a child. Hurriedly he answered, trying to restore his face to its customary solemnity.
"Forgive me; my name is Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil of Mirkwood. I am sent to ask advice of the White Council."
"You are Prince Legolas?" she asked in astonishment. He nodded and was alarmed to see her cover her face with her hands and burst into tears. She fell to the ground and wept bitterly. He dropped to his knees beside her.
"Why are you crying?" he asked, worried and not at all sure what to do with this sobbing girl.
She sniffed and raised tearful eyes to look him in the face. "Lord Saruman will be angry with me." She said, with a quiver in her voice. "I was instructed to send word immediately that high lords were sighted. I saw you over an hour ago and had I not neglected my duty, one of the Istari would have been here to greet you."
Legolas was still puzzled by her weeping. She had seemed afraid of something. "Surely that is not worth crying over." He said, attempting to soothe the tearful girl.
"You don't understand. I shall be punished if Lord Saruman hears of this. He will send me back to my stepfather in Dunland. I will no longer be allowed to learn in the city, all my studying will be in vain!" she began to sob again.
"You are a scholar, and my rank will prevent you from studying? Well then, I shall not be a prince." He paused for a moment, trying to think of a false name.
"Announce me to Lord Saruman as Veborion, a messenger from Mirkwood. Don't interrupt the council though. I shall wait until the debate has finished. Tell me, what are they discussing?" he inquired.
"I believe it has something to do with Mirkwood actually. How convenient!" she said airily, her worries lifted from her by his words.
Suddenly alert, he pressed for more detail. "Have you heard anything of what they have been saying?" he asked, trying to conceal his eagerness for the answer.
"They mentioned Dol Guldur and the Necromancer earlier. I was serving the mid-day meal and Gandalf was speaking about an attack on the tower." She said, interested now, having picked up on the urgency in his voice.
He breathed a huge sigh of relief; this was exactly what he had been hoping for. "Andlothiel, they are debating the very threat that I was sent here to inform them of and beg for their assistance. Although I no longer need to speak before the council to request that help, I should stay to wait for their final decision." He said, the relief evident in his demeanor. However he could not relax just yet, he knew that the council had not yet decided and that anything could happen in a debate of such magnitude. His lips moved in a silent invocation to the Valar, Yavanna. She the lover of growing things would not suffer her work, or the work of Illuvatar to be corrupted by evil.
Days passed and he continued to skirt the mountains. He did not allow himself to enter the golden wood of Lothlorien, as he knew that he would tarry too long in that fair place. Delaying would place his homeland in even greater danger. Sometimes leading his horse over rougher ground, he passed into the mountains for a while to avoid Lothlorien.
He greatly desired to have speech with Celeborn and Galadriel, the lord and lady of the Golden Wood as he felt that they would have counsel and advice for Thranduil. He remembered tales told to him in childhood of the Lady's foresight and wisdom. His mother would never have lied to him; Galadriel's power could help them now, if only she were asked. But his instructions from Thranduil were to go to Isengard for help, with all speed.
Had his father not sent him to Isengard, he would have gone to Lothlorien to ask for guidance. As it was however, he continued into the mountains to carry out his mission.
L After travelling for many days, he came to the forest of Fangorn and felt its unease. He did not go into the forest but rode around the edge. The more direct route through the old wood could have been dangerous, as orcs were everywhere. He had come across more marauding bands at night but these had passed him by as he now forbore from making fire.
Finally he could see the tower of Orthanc, rising out of the hollow of Isengard in the distance. It stood against the sky like a tall black sword, cleaving the horizon in two. It was a haven of learning. The Istari, the White Council studied and debated within the walls, and in the midst of it, closeted in the Tower, was Saruman the White, leader of the council and great wizard. He was said to be wiser even than Mithrandir, the Grey Wanderer, who was held in high regard by many.
Legolas resolved to reach Isengard by the evening of that day, he could feel the darkness reaching out from the Necromancer's stronghold, and time was short. A chill was in the air, and the plumes of smoke from Dol Guldur had grown blacker and were tinged at the base with red flame.
He kicked sharply at his horse's sides and the animal reared and sprang forwards in one fluid movement. Sensing his urgency it galloped faster than ever before, faster than mortal eyes could follow. But one eye saw, one eye followed them, one flaming red eye in the darkness of Southern Mirkwood. It watched and its owner laughed, a low scraping sound, like metal grating on metal. A terrible sound, but no one heard, not Thranduil in his green halls, not Saruman in Orthanc, and not Legolas on horseback galloping over the Plain of Rohan.
At last the gates of Isengard loomed before him, he slowed his horse to a walk, raised his voice and cried: "My Lords of Isengard! I come from Mirkwood to bring news and a plea for help from my people. Will you grant me admittance to put my request to the council?" As he finished his salutation, he saw movement in a window high in the wall.
"The council is in session, debating an important topic but you are welcome to enter and wait." A high voice called down in reply. The great gates slowly swung open although touched by no hand.
Legolas dismounted and led his horse towards the threshold of Isengard. An ominous feeling stole over him as he entered but he shrugged it off, no one could enter a place of such power and not feel disquiet.
Standing in shadow to one side of the gateway was a tall shape in a hooded cloak. As the figure stepped forward, hands outstretched in greeting, the hood fell back, revealing a young woman's pale face. Glowing in the whiteness of her oval face, were two huge blue eyes, startlingly bright. They seemed to see right through him. They were fringed by long dark lashes, in stark contrast to the paleness of her face. Her hair was cropped short and a colour that he had not seen in any elf, the colour of burnished bronze. Legolas stood in astonishment; he had encountered the race of men before but this girl was unlike any he had ever seen.
She smiled in welcome, "Welcome Master Elf. I am Andlothiel the keeper of the gate. May I know your name?"
Hearing her name, he started in surprise, "You have an elvish name? Yet you are of the race of men, how is that so?" he asked the question almost without thinking.
"My mother became great friends with Gandalf the Grey as a child. I believe he taught her the elvish letters. Now Master Elf, having found out my family history, will you tell me your name or shall I continue questioning forever?" She laughed as she replied.
Had he been human he would have blushed; he was his father's emissary and yet was behaving like a child. Hurriedly he answered, trying to restore his face to its customary solemnity.
"Forgive me; my name is Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil of Mirkwood. I am sent to ask advice of the White Council."
"You are Prince Legolas?" she asked in astonishment. He nodded and was alarmed to see her cover her face with her hands and burst into tears. She fell to the ground and wept bitterly. He dropped to his knees beside her.
"Why are you crying?" he asked, worried and not at all sure what to do with this sobbing girl.
She sniffed and raised tearful eyes to look him in the face. "Lord Saruman will be angry with me." She said, with a quiver in her voice. "I was instructed to send word immediately that high lords were sighted. I saw you over an hour ago and had I not neglected my duty, one of the Istari would have been here to greet you."
Legolas was still puzzled by her weeping. She had seemed afraid of something. "Surely that is not worth crying over." He said, attempting to soothe the tearful girl.
"You don't understand. I shall be punished if Lord Saruman hears of this. He will send me back to my stepfather in Dunland. I will no longer be allowed to learn in the city, all my studying will be in vain!" she began to sob again.
"You are a scholar, and my rank will prevent you from studying? Well then, I shall not be a prince." He paused for a moment, trying to think of a false name.
"Announce me to Lord Saruman as Veborion, a messenger from Mirkwood. Don't interrupt the council though. I shall wait until the debate has finished. Tell me, what are they discussing?" he inquired.
"I believe it has something to do with Mirkwood actually. How convenient!" she said airily, her worries lifted from her by his words.
Suddenly alert, he pressed for more detail. "Have you heard anything of what they have been saying?" he asked, trying to conceal his eagerness for the answer.
"They mentioned Dol Guldur and the Necromancer earlier. I was serving the mid-day meal and Gandalf was speaking about an attack on the tower." She said, interested now, having picked up on the urgency in his voice.
He breathed a huge sigh of relief; this was exactly what he had been hoping for. "Andlothiel, they are debating the very threat that I was sent here to inform them of and beg for their assistance. Although I no longer need to speak before the council to request that help, I should stay to wait for their final decision." He said, the relief evident in his demeanor. However he could not relax just yet, he knew that the council had not yet decided and that anything could happen in a debate of such magnitude. His lips moved in a silent invocation to the Valar, Yavanna. She the lover of growing things would not suffer her work, or the work of Illuvatar to be corrupted by evil.