Hehe…kinda gutsy of me, I think, showing up on my own thread at this juncture. Oh well. ;) Okay! Okay! I'm posting! I'm posting!! LOL! :D
Responses:
Lillian and Lime: I- *sputters into giggles and can't finish* LOL!!! Are you ALWAYS this goofy? Only curious… ;)
Chrisalin: What am I doing? *innocent look* umn…writing fan fiction? *blink* ;)
Szhismine: Well, keep in mind, Aragorn was NOT in fact dead, when I first 'killed' him. So, yeah, this'll actually be the FIRST time. :D
Lady Sandry: LOL! Ooooh no, NOBODY is as bad as Cassia and Sio. ;) LOL! Yeah, Sarah and Hannah and I all LOVE to write. I think we get it from our mom- she's always been into good literature, and wrote some herself when she was younger. :) And as for Sarah and Hannah(Siri)'s next fic, it is in the posting right now. Chapter 1 was posted today! AND I'M GOING TO GO READ IT when I'm done posting my own. ;) LOL! Thanks for your feedback!
Bill the Pony: Well, like I told szhismine, I didn't actually KILL him before, so this will be the first time. *grin* kinda scary, really. :P Try putting the One Ring in your little sib's toy drawer. Then it'll disappear for sure! :P
Maranwe: If there is indeed shame in enjoying character torture, than Sarah, Hannah and I are some of the WORST offenders EVER. ;) Nice theory, but you forgot one thing- I think that it's more likely Araogrn fears failure- well, it's a twist between that and failure, I think. LOL! Ookay, what are you thinking? Who do YOU think is supplying them with Salab? You're probably not going to tell me. OH well. ;) Keep jumping! Keep rambling!
SilvanLegolas: There, there, don't twitch. ;) LOL!
Bianca: umn…okay. Somebody's a die-hard Aragorn fan girl, that seems apparent. ;) LOL!
Review lady: Oh, gee. *prods at powder* thanks! Umn…what is it? ;) JK! Thanks for the review!
Lina: LOL!!! You've got me in STITCHES over here!! ;) Do you HAVE to make me laugh?! *pat pat* ooh dear dear, poor Gandalf. Hm. Oh well. ;) *grin*
Misty: I have to agree with you on several accounts- and Aragorn's 'brink of death' gets monotonous, I imagine. I guess the hard thing is, there is reason behind EVERYTHING that has happened so far, but the reasons aren't made clear quite yet. I'm glad it's growing on you. As far as I know, though, Aragorn won't be having many more 'near-death' as we get further into the PLOT not the BUILD-UP if you know what I mean. Thank you for your feedback, it was most helpful! :)
Well, here we go, guys!
*****
Chapter 14
Lost and Found
The night was suddenly much colder. Much darker. Legolas felt as though Mirkwood had never been murkier in its entire existence. But he'd been wrong.
A great cry of pain, a shout of agony came screaming from the dark of the forest around them. It wasn't a bodiless cry, there was a single word put in the midst of the smoky pain. "Hauta!" it screamed, crying out for someone to not only hear but heed.
"Aragorn!" Legolas heart fell like it was going to burst. But there was no one to hear his own cry. The night was suddenly still and stable as a crack in glass. Unchangeable, and needing something claimed of it. Cold. Dark. Unfair.
The calloused cheers of orcs echoed around the gloom, turning the glassy silence to ice.
"Estel…" Legolas shook his head, unaware that he was feeling anything. "No. No, Estel…no."
"Ooh, dear, dear. Are those tears in the noble elf's eyes?"
Legolas jolted unwillingly out of his grief to see Maklu's leering face. He realized at once that the orc was right, there were tears streaming down his face, but he was anything but ashamed of them. "You have destroyed something dear and innocent," he hissed through his trembling lips.
"Oh, I know, but the younger they are, the louder they scream," Maklu pointed out knowledgably, and grinned down at Legolas.
"You didn't have to kill him…" he whispered.
"But it was so fun, Lindo."
Legolas eyes snapped to Maklu's face, but the orc didn't react to the look. "That *is* your name, isn't it?" Before Legolas could answer, Maklu turned and trotted off towards the forest where the hoard and Aragorn had disappeared.
Confusion and grief still throbbing in his chest, Legolas felt vaguely that this would be the best and only time for his escape. He couldn't stay here another moment, and the least he could do now was save the other elf who was still being dragged around by the bored orcs.
He looked around for any means of escape, when his eyes fell on the torn dirt where the root Aragorn had been bound to was ripped away. Woodchips still sat everywhere, those and the raked earth the only hint at what had been there once. Legolas moved his fingers over the root he was tied to, and found woodchips there as well, and picking up a piece between two fingers, inspected it carefully.
It was soft and smelled faintly dank; rotten. Legolas could recall when the root snapped out of the ground, it seemed to send clods of dirt as well as bark flying. Looking around, he realized there wasn't much of a hole where the root had been, which could only mean that the clods of dirt came from inside the foot-thick root. It was rotten to the core.
With no time to lose, knowing that the orcs would be back and plotting their overthrow of Mirkwood, of which he would be an unwilling but key part, Legolas slid over the root, bending his arms carefully, and ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder.
Too blinded by inner grief, he didn't care how much the outer pain hurt as he twisted his wrists towards him again. At first, nothing, but finally, a thin crack began to spread over the root, accompanied by the steady sigh of splintering wood.
*SNAP*
The elven rope had proven itself and bitten straight into the hollow root. Sure enough, it was only an inch of shell around rotted oak chips, a bit of dirt, and some vine-plant that appeared to be living off the rotten chips.
There were many orcs still around, even though most of them had run off to 'the cave' with Aragorn, and Legolas knew that at least one of them were bound to notice that he'd cut himself loose. He glanced around and found, to his chagrin, that the other Mirkwood elf was being bound to tree-root just as Legolas and Aragorn had, not several feet away. Legolas could see by the sheer number of orcs that there would be no saving this other elf without reinforcements. He would have to leave and come back with some of his best marksmen.
Once the orcs were done jeering at the other elf, they would be sure to come after Legolas. The prince had little time. Jumping to his feet, he didn't bother to look around, but made a straight run for the clearing he knew they'd been dragged from upon getting here. Surely Lint would still be there?
He heard mingled orcish cries, and it didn't take long to begin feeling Salab darts flying around his head. He burst into the clearing, unscathed, and to his surprise and relief, found his horse still there. "Lint!" he cried. "Ea na gwiil, sadroner."
But Lint, just as he was approaching his master, heard the scream of orcs, and the whistle of Salab darts taking flight. He reared with a frightened roar. "Ea na gwiil!" Leoglas cried, swinging closer to his steed, and with no time left to spare, he made a grab for the horse's white mane.
Holding on as best as he could with his hands still bound, he leaned forward towards Lint's perked ears, hoping that his own melodic voice would outweigh the screams of orcs around them. "Noro lim, Lint," he begged, but the horse needed no further beckoning. With a screaming neigh, he took off into the forest just as about a dozen orcs burst into the clearing.
At first they raced over the path Aragorn and Legolas had been marched down by the orcs not several hours ago. But Legolas soon realized that like-as-not, the orcs knew the path well, and perhaps unknown territory would be a better idea.
Turning his horse abruptly to the side, Legolas rode off through the thick forest siding from the path. It was a mistake. He'd cut too far to the right, and the orcs, using cleverness Legolas didn't think they had, ran from the path as well, cutting through the forest, and quickly gaining on the where Legolas rode to the side, directly across their path.
Before the prince could think, the orcs had burst out of the undergrowth around him, and were aiming all kinds of weapons at him. He rode on, hoping to avoid being halted by them, seeing he had no weapons.
*TTTHONT!* Legolas felt a stinging pain in wrist, soon covered up by numbness. He looked down to find a Salab dart protruding just barely from the ropes around his wrists. It had sunken past the rope and found its mark in Legolas' hand.
Trying to hold onto Lint with just one hand while it was still bound to a limp one, Legolas steered Lint around to ride ahead of the orcs instead of beside them. Lint let out a scream, and Legolas had only moments to realize there was a Salab dart in the white neck, before the horse came to a blinding halt.
Caught unaware, and clinging to the beast with only one bound hand, Legolas was thrown over the horse's head. He only briefly realized that he was seeing the sky from an angle he couldn't recall seeing it before, and then he felt the terrifying reality that he was going to land.
His body hit the damp ground with a dull thud, and he felt himself rolling down some kind of embankment. The crackle of breaking weeds filled his ears, until at last he stopped his descent. He opened his eyes slowly, feeling the night had become even quieter.
Sitting up gradually, he looked around him. He was tangled up in weeds and there were grass stains all over his tunic. He sighed in relief that he didn't appear to be seriously hurt, aside from a slight headache. The next thought to enter his head wasn't as welcome.
"Aragorn-" but he shook his head, and put the thought away. No. No, not now, and not ever if he could help it. He'd taken his last words to Aragorn to promise that he would not despair. He wasn't going to break that promise now.
But the lump that rose into his throat was automatic, and nothing he could help.
He tore at the weeds around him as best he could. His bound hands were the hardest to dislodge from the mass, but eventually the weeds let go of the elven ropes, and Legolas could finally stand up. He looked around, surveying his surroundings. He could still hear the distant shouts of orcs, and the frightened neighs of Lint as he was dragged back to their camp. But Legolas had fallen far enough that they would not find him, he was sure of that.
With a weary body, and a weakened soul, he pressed off into the forest, hoping he was still aligned with the path somewhere above where he'd fallen. It was his only idea of which direction he was going, and as well as he knew Mirkwood's realm, he didn't know the deeper parts of it too well, and that was exactly where he seemed to be in the middle of.
But surely he could find help. Surely it wasn't too late to save at least one life. Surely.
**********
One step. It's just one step, one easy step. You pick up your foot, and you put it down, Legolas.
But one step was one too many. He'd wandered for hours- what seemed like days through the dark of Mirkwood. With his hands bound, it was impossible to pull the Salab dart from his wrist, and so the numbness was spreading through his shoulders, and had only slowed it's progress when it began working its way down his back. But he still felt too weak to walk.
He realized he was counting his footsteps by old habit…
"Where are we?"
"Seventy-eight."
"Someday, we shall tell the tale of how we climbed the Light Stairs of Gabil Gûndu."
"Aye! But will we wish generations to know of us as 'the ones that climbed through Gabil Gûndu?"
Aragorn laughed. "I expect not, my friend."
"Six hundred twenty-four, my friend," Legolas said aloud, trying to cheer himself. "And that- six hundred twenty-five. And this makes six hundred twenty-six…that makes six two six. Six two seven. Six two eight…oh Valar help me…six two nine. Six- six…six hundred twenty- six hundred…six three. Six three zero. Thirty."
He didn't feel his fall, but he knew he was going to hit the earth with his head. That was all right. He was tired anyway…
**********
He heard pounding. His head? No, it was vibrating through his entire body, but it didn't originate from his head, he was sure of that…there was the loud scream of a horse, and the pounding slowed.
"By the Valar!" someone shouted. "What is that?"
"A body," the other replied slowly and sadly.
"If it is another slaughtered by those orcs-"
"Calm yourself, my friend. Oh Ilúvatar, it *is* an elf. Let him not be dead!"
More pounding. Someone's footsteps- no, more than just one person. Two perhaps.
"Does he look familiar to you?"
"Hold on a minute…Ilúvatar help us! Legolas!"
He was being lifted off the ground- or at least part of him was. His head and shoulders. "Legolas, my dearest friend, Legolas!"
"Legolas!" the other voice cried. "Legolas, oh how in Middle Earth did he get out here?! And in such condition too!"
Legolas at last forced himself to open his eyes. He was lying in someone's lap. Someone he knew and cared for. He turned his head slowly, and gazed into misty gray eyes. He smiled. "Edren."
"Oh, Legolas, thank the Valar you are all right! What are you- how did you get- oh, never mind, questions later. Why are you bound?"
Legolas' eyes drifted to his tied wrists, and he remembered everything in a flash once more. "Orcs."
"I figured as much…" muttered the other voice. "Where are they, Legolas, I swear I'll kill them all."
A soft sigh exited Edren's mouth as he began to work at Legolas' ropes. "Daurrè, calm yourself. There is no good you getting uptight again."
Daurrè only glared off in the direction he thought the orcs were. "I'll kill them…" he muttered, nodding slowly to himself.
"What is- Legolas, you have a Salab dart in your hand." The friend's tone was worried.
Legolas looked up at Edren. "Yes, I know. It happened during my escape. I'm afraid with my hands tied I could not get it out. I cannot feel anything too well at the moment, I'm afraid…"
"Sh, I'll get it." Legolas watched blankly as Edren pulled the dart out of his hand, and cast it aside bitterly, turning once more to the knotted ropes around the prince's wrists. At last, with the elf's skilled fingers, the ropes fell away, and Edren began to rub feeling back into Legolas' hands.
"Thank you," Legolas almost whispered.
Edren stopped at the chocked tone, and looked down into Legolas' eyes. Slowly, he ran a tender finger across the prince's split lip. "Oh Legolas, what happened?"
"Yrc," Legolas hissed flatly, meeting the careful gaze above him, a tale of pain evident in his eyes.
"I know. Tell me what happened, Legolas. Please. Why are you here?"
"Átniir begged me to come after Daurrè, and when I found that you had gone as well, Edren…I couldn't bare to lose another friend."
A look of sincerest sorrow filled Edren's eyes as he took the words in, and surveyed Legolas' many scratches and wounds. "You came after me?" his voice cracked as he spoke, and he bit his lip to hold in emotion. "Legolas, you shouldn't have done this for me."
Legolas shook his head. "Edren, I couldn't bare the thought of losing you. I came of my own will, and for Daurrè as well." Legolas shifted his gaze to Daurrè. The elf was looking at him, eyes slightly wide, and mouth slightly ajar. The prince looked back up at Edren. "I had to come."
"But- where is Aragorn, Legolas?" Edren asked at length.
"I hope," Daurrè put in with light-heartedness he didn't feel. "That you have left him in the Halls for the rest he so needs. It is a wonder you left him though. Or that he allowed you to leave him."
Legolas swallowed hard, and looked up at the sky for strength. "It would have been better if I had, Daurrè…"
Edren stared into Legolas' glazed eyes. "Legolas-"
"I suited the orcs' purposes. They planned to use me as a hostage- or something. Their key. A weapon against my father, as well as another elf there. Aragorn- he…he did not suit their proposes." Legolas throat ached, and he felt his words trembling slightly. "They wanted blood…"
Legolas looked back at Edren at last, just as the elf closed his eyes with a great sigh of deepest regret. He pressed his lips together, and shaking his head slightly, opened his eyes. There were tears glistening in them. "Legolas…I am so sorry, my friend…I-" he shook his head again, and closed his eyes once more.
Legolas bit his lip hard. He was trying so hard not to cry…he'd promised. He wouldn't cry, he wouldn't despair. He wouldn't! A tear slipped unwillingly from the corner of his eye, and down the side of his head, patting Edren's knee silently.
Edren felt it, and opened his eyes again. "I am sorry, Legolas, truly I am…Aragorn was-"
"I know," Legolas interrupted almost bitterly. "But there is nothing we can do now. He is gone, and at least I didn't have to see him- see him d-" he shook his head fervently, and blinked away any further tears. "But it is not too late to save the other elf."
"Who was the other elf?" Daurrè asked timidly, afraid of asking anything else that would hurt his friend, and feeling suddenly responsible for the entire escapade. Edren had come with him to keep him from killing himself. Legolas and Aragorn had come after Edren. If only he hadn't gone.
"I know not his name, but he was of Mirkwood, he told the orcs my identity." Legolas stared hard at Daurrè, and seemed to catch what he was thinking. "It is all right, Daurrè, do not blame yourself. We would have had to come here and fight this fight someday. The orcs seem to have barricades all over Mirkwood."
"Well, then we better get a move on." Edren forced himself to look away from Legolas' pained eyes, and nodded resolutely. "Can you stand?"
"If you will help me," Legolas sighed.
Slowly but surely, Edren pulled Legolas to his feet. Legolas stood no longer than a few moments, when with a cry of pain, he sank to his knees, clutching at his left arm. Apparently, the Salab dart had done more good than he realized; it had taken away any pain he'd have felt running through the forest with an injured shoulder. He vaguely felt Edren's fingers probing around the sore spot, and after a moment or two, Legolas answered the thought himself. "It's dislocated."
"I can see that," Edren replied, almost cheerfully, but his face was frowning. "We must set it before we ride off, there is no way you can ride with your arm injured so thoroughly."
Legolas gritted his teeth. "I don't want-"
"I know you don't *want*," Edren lectured good-naturedly. "But you must." He turned away from his kneeling friend, and found the discarded Salab dart lying a few feet away. He picked it up between two fingers, and looked at Legolas steadily.
Legolas sighed. "It will help, I think."
Edren only nodded, and with no warning, thrust it into Legolas' left shoulder. There wasn't a whole lot of Salab left in the dart, but it was enough to dull most feeling in Legolas shoulder and upper back, as well as relax the tensed muscles.
"Daurrè?" The elf responded automatically to Edren's call. "Could you hold Legolas down for me?" Daurrè nodded, and as Legolas sat back on his heals, Daurrè massaged his shoulders to keep the rest of the pain away.
Edren carefully pulled Legolas' arm to the side in the angle he wanted it to it to be, and then, holding Legolas' wrist in one hand, he put his other hand against the prince's shoulder. "Ready?"
Legolas shook his head as he began to feel a bit sick. Edren only nodded, and as Daurrè pressed down on Legolas' shoulders, Edren gave the prince's arm a firm pull. Legolas bit back a cry as pain snaked its way past the Salab's effect. Edren jerked his arm down, and then to the side, swinging it in a half-arc, and then forcing it down again.
With a thick *CRACK* the shoulder reset itself, and Legolas was left gasping and shaking slightly. Edren pulled the Salab dart out of his shoulder and cast it away once more, kneeling down beside him as Daurrè continued to massage his shoulders. "Are you all right?"
Legolas nodded mutely, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. "We should get moving-"
"No you rest a bit. We need to wait up anyway."
"For what?"
"Well, Daurrè and I-" but just at that moment, there was a sudden pounding sound accompanied by the crash of undergrowth. "Ah! Here he comes now."
Legolas looked up to see two horses galloping into the clearing, but only one had a rider. An elf. "Nyarin?" Legolas shook his head in disbelief as the elf dismounted and approached him.
"Prince Legolas Greenleaf!" Nyarin put his left hand to his chest with a slight bow, drawing it away in the traditional elven greeting. He then came to his knees beside Edren, and smiled. "How good it is to see you! But- what has happened to you? You look awful."
Legolas blinked. "I- long story. But why on earth- who cured you? I'd last heard you were so near death Tirniel had given up on you!"
"I am well now, aside from one obstacle…" Nyarin's fingers flew over the scar that ran from his upper forehead to his cheekbone, crossing his left eye in the process. The eye was open, but it was a blue paler than any Legolas had seen before…he realized that Nyarin was blind in one eye.
"I am sorry, my friend."
"Do not be!" Nyarin cried joyously. "I am alive, and that is the important thing."
"But *how*?" exclaimed Legolas shaking his head. There was sudden and obvious hesitancy from the three of them, and Daurrè's messaging became more insistent. "How?" Legolas repeated, looking instead to Edren.
"Bengwiil." The word seemed to slip rehearsed from his friend's lips.
Legolas felt the breath sigh from him. "Then Tirniel uses this as a magic cure. He will bring it back into acceptance, and what happened years ago will happen all over again…until someone else dies."
"Legolas, it was the only way." Nyarin lay a hand on the prince's shoulder. "I would have died, but Bengwiil is keeping me alive long enough to find an antidote for it. And believe me, Legolas…it is not as easy a cure at it seems, even in the short run, not to mention the long one. I see-" but he shook his head and slid his hand from Legolas' shoulder. "I think- that I can better understand how you felt when infected with Bengwiil."
Legolas' eyebrows creased together in confusion. "How on earth do you know of that? I've only yet told my father."
Nyarin's face paled. "I- news travels, you know. And the king, forgive me my disrespect, but he has lost his mind."
Legolas nodded uncertainly, and then shook his head. "But- why are you here?"
"I came with Harain."
"Yes," Legolas nodded as though he'd just remember a question he'd planned to ask of Nyarin. "And that is another thing, I thought Harain was dead as well!"
"Well- he wasn't," Nyarin answered simply. "Upon hearing about the 'foolish venture' that was to be made in vengeance of the dead, and obtaining of Bengwiil, Harain and I both rode out to dissuade them or at least keep them alive.
"Well, unfortunately, on our way there, we ran across a barricade of orcs. Just when we thought we'd escaped them, another hoard came bursting out on us. We rode hard, and I though Harain was behind me. But when I next looked over my shoulder, he surrounded by orcs and being tied to his own horse's reins." Nyarin shook his head slowly. "Well, I was determined to help him, but knowing I could not afford to fight the orcs myself, I rode hard for the Halls to get help. Unfortunately, only a few of the barricades of orcs had been stumbled across so far, so there were well-organized ones everywhere, just waiting for some elf to run into them. That is why it took my so long to get back towards the Halls, it was very slow-going.
"When I had almost reached the Halls, I ran into Edren and Daurrè on their way to the same place I was. Daurrè said that he and Edren were the only ones who weren't scared to death of avenging the dead elves, so I agreed readily to join them in that avenging. I was-" Nyarin paused, looking distant for a moment. "I was very grieved to find what sparked this venture of theirs…Harian was a good elf. A- a Survivor." He smiled humorously to himself as if at an inside joke.
"Of course," he continued with an attempt at a light-hearted tone. "It was only after that that I realized Edren actually meant to dissuade Daurrè from going through with his plan, and he started trying to talk me out of it as well." He grinned.
Edren only sighed. "For all the good it's done."
Nyarin laughed. "I suppose we should get a move-on, then."
"Aye," Legolas agreed, now that his shoulder felt just a bit better. "Though- oh dear, I shall have to share a horse-"
"No need!" Nyarin jumped up and sprang to where his horse stood beside the deep chestnut beast that had ridden in beside him. "We found this fellow abandoned in a clearing, Salab darts in several places, poor fellow."
"It appears the orcs have discovered a stock of Salab darts," Legolas nodded as Daurrè and Edren helped him to his feet.
"Or have learned to make them," Nyarin put in.
"But- how is that possible? Even few among the elves have the skill for such a delicate weapon." Legolas shrugged. "I've been making arrows since I could spell the word, and even I cannot handle the meticulousness of their making."
Nyarin shrugged back. "Perhaps they've found a more primitive way of doing it."
Edren shook his head slowly. "No, I think not. That dart that I pulled out of Legolas, it was very well-crafted, expertly fletched."
Daurrè and Nyarin simultaneously mounted their horses, Nyarin still speaking. "I have no idea, maybe they've just pulled them off some unsuspecting elves through Mirkwood."
"Such as the one Legolas saw during his captivity?" Edren put in, leading a still worn-out prince to his horse.
Nyarin's face lit up. "Elf? Oh, so Legolas was captured- by orcs?" He shook his head. "I appear to have missed an important conversation. But- an elf, you say? Who? Did he say his name or did you see his face?"
"I fear I received neither pieces of key information," Legolas sighed. "But I got the impression he hadn't been there that long."
Nyarin nodded slowly. "Perhaps- perhaps it was Anwé…it is possible, did it look like my brother?"
Legolas shook his head. "I am sorry, I could not tell if it was your brother Anwé."
Nyarin nodded a bit quicker this time. He seemed unwilling to let go of the blind hope that Anwé was still alive. "Very well, let us be off! Edren, forgive my delay, but I've stumbled across another orc-path!"
Edren nodded. "Very good, Nyarin, thank you. We shall turn to the right, then, and follow it."
Edren went to his horse, leaving Legolas by the spare one. It was then that Legolas got a good look at the beast Nyarin had loaned to him. "Horthor…" he whispered hoarsely, running a gentle but shaking hand down the dark animal's long nose. Horthor jerked his head slightly, his great eyes searching the clearing hungrily, a look that could only barely be interpreted as confusion on his dark face.
Legolas bit his lip. "He's not here, Horthor…he's-" the horse's eyes swung over to Legolas, dark and probing. The elf couldn't finish, his own emotions translating themselves as pity for the horse, which seemed silly enough to Legolas without adding tears to the already difficult situation.
"Well met," he murmured, patting the horse half-heartedly, and climbing abruptly onto his dark back. The beast wavered a bit uncertainly underneath the prince at first, but he stood still at length, and Legolas rubbed his mane kindly. Looking up, he met Nyarin's confused eye.
"Do you know the horse-"
"You still have not told me why you are so determined to join Daurrè," Legolas interrupted quickly.
"Oh, well I had been hoping to save Harain…though that is impossible now. But- I must know the fate of my brother, and I shan't rest until I do." Legolas nodded. "So- do you know who the horse belongs to, your-"
"We shall ride to the path, then, Nyarin. Soon as possible!" Legolas looked over at the interruptor gratefully, and Edren nodded slightly in a 'you're welcome'.
"Of course, off we ride, Daurrè!" Nyarin cried, and reined his horse in towards the undergrowth off into the dark of Mirkwood. Without a word, Daurrè, Edren and Legolas followed as fast as they could ride.