Also, when I went to the site to see if my story was posted yet I discovered I couldn't access the first chapter, which made me worry that no one had access to the first chapter. So I was panicked until reviews came, which indicated that you guys had all read the first chapter so thank you so much! Now I can update in peace.
So without further dilly dally.
Increasing Troubles
The very day that Gimli had decided to travel to Gondor, Legolas was found still laboring under the task of carrying water. But since we had last seen him his heart had grown much heavier. He knew with certainty that if rain did not come soon, trees would die.
He slowly carried the water over to where a tree stood, piteously crying. He drizzled the liquid over the roots, which greedily took in all the elf had to offer. Legolas gave a sad smile to the tree, and leaned his hand up against the bark. An ancient feeling entered his bones. It is the same feeling one gets when standing in the tall, grassy dunes, staring out to the sea, and feeling the salty wind on your face. There is no other thought on your mind, but the beauty of the sea, and the feeling of the wind on a cloudy day. So it was with the tree, only that this time there was a pang of thirst, a dryness that closed Legolas's throat and parched his lips, and a brittleness, which he suddenly felt inside himself.
He removed his hand and the feelings faded but for the distant memory of what they had been. He rubbed his hand thoughtfully between his fingers, feeling the tree's brittleness in them. He did not like the feeling. He turned from the tree and headed towards the riverbanks.
As he approached the river, yet still many strides from it, his elven ears began to pick up the sounds of flowing water, and the music that is the language of the elves. As he stepped onto the banks, now a tad trampled even from the light-footed elves, he cast his eyes around to see who else was there.
Two elven maids farther down the stream were filling their buckets, and another elf was doing the same across from them. As the buckets were filled, their owners headed off into the forest, and new elves took their place. But it was not the women who interested Legolas's eye. His eye was resting on the other elf, whom he recognized.
"Tanvir!"
The elf in question looked up, saw who had called out his name, and then grinned. As Legolas walked over to him, he bent low, and cupping a handful of water from the stream, flicked a little at the elven prince.
"Don't. How can you play around with something so precious today, so foolishly? Not even a drop can be wasted."
Tanvir's grin faded a little, "You are right. I stand properly ashamed of myself." He grin had resurfaced. Legolas was tempted to push him into the stream, but restrained himself by reflecting on what he had just said.
"Where have you been?"
"I was assigned to the trees that bear up our flets. I have been walking in and out of the main gathering area all day, carrying bucketfuls, and listening to your father's advisors squabble about this whole mess."
"Advisors indeed. Father never really listens to them."
"You mean, you never really listen to them, but come," he cut off Legolas's move to make a retort, "we're blocking the way, let us fill our buckets and move on. We can talk more privately in the woods."
The two elves bent low, and after having gathered as much water a possible, turned back into the tress each so dearly loved.
Tanvir had long been associated with the royal family. Although it is important to note that he was not royal himself. Yet he was amongst one of Legolas's most treasured companions. He was tall, but that doesn't say much as all elves are tall to some degree. And his frame was slender and full of the sense of energy. Yet this trait is also present in many elves. What made him distinctly unique was his attitude. Tanvir had been raised by his mother, one of the few elves remaining who still refused to settle in any one of the elven dwellings. These elves instead wandered constantly, much like gypsies today. Tanvir, when brought to Mirkwood at the tender age of 1,347 had fallen in love with the trees, and so decided to stay. Sometime during those early years of new residency he had managed to bump into Legolas and the two had formed a strong friendship.
The wandering elves had rubbed off on Tanvir though, and compared to the other elven folk, Tanvir was something of the local rebel that drew gazes from the fairer sex. Oh, when the time called for it, he could be as solemn as anyone, but not often did he see such a time. He was considered even more unruly than Legolas, and the two often delighted in running away on unplanned hunting trips, throwing the palace into chaos. Still, Tanvir was always welcome in the house of the king.
Now as they walked, the two fell into the comfortable silence that being in the company of an old friend brings. It was a while before either had spoke. Then Tanvir shattered the peace.
"You know, these efforts are fruitless."
"Yes, I know." Neither friend looked at each other.
"Perhaps...perhaps we should write to the dwarves? The extra water would be a blessing."
Legolas sighed, he had gone over this point with his father only yesterday. He had entered into the chambers to see his father talking swiftly with his advisors.
Legolas coughed respectfully and his father looked up. Seeing him he turned to the other elves, "Excuse us please."
After they were alone, Legolas moved forward, "Adar, the rivers still run, but if the weather continues they will not run forever. Have you not given this any consideration?"
The king sighed, "My mind has dwelt much on the topic my son. Do you think me blind to the effects of this drought upon our land?"
Legolas flushed, he had not meant to insult his father, "Then allow me to send word to the glittering caves. I fear the time is drawing near when we shall have to call upon their assistance."
The only response he received was, "We do not need any help the dwarves have to offer."
Legolas sighed. His father still had not been able to move past the idea that dwarves were a good for nothing race with only a few exceptions here and there. His pride would not allow him to reconsider his statement.
"Then I fear that you may one day regret this decision."
His father snorted. Legolas bade his respects and then left.
To be fair to the Elvenking, he had not been presented with any evidence to contradict his way of thinking. This was before the times that through the efforts of Gimli and Legolas, the two separate kingdoms had become invaluable allies. In the present, all dwarves that had been presented before the king had acted in just the way he had expected them to. And in their eyes, his behavior was exactly what they had predicted. There were still many years until the chords of distrust and bigotry were to be broken.
Legolas thought carefully before he answered his friend, "I have already discussed such options with my father Tanvir. His response is the same as it would have been fifty or a thousand years ago."
"So that would be 'no' then, am I right?"
Legolas nodded.
Tanvir hesitated, and then spoke, "You should write to the dwarves anyways."
Legolas glanced at him sharply. He had in fact, been entertaining that idea for some time. Yet the situation was not yet that desperate, and he did not yet wish to create trouble between himself and his father. For all his faults, and for all of Legolas's actions, the two were still father and son, and they shared a bond of love as such.
Legolas didn't answer Tanvir, and Tanvir didn't press the matter. He knew his friend well enough by now, to know that the idea had not been dismissed from the prince's mind.
For the remainder of the day, the two friends carried water together, sometimes talking, but mostly just working in quiet. Each felt that they had reached a brink of some sort, and were waiting to see what the times ahead would bring.
A tremendous boom rang through the palace walls, jerking Legolas to full wakefulness. For a second he forgot where he was and thought for an instant that the thunder he had heard was the sound of an orc drum. He had already sprung from the bed and was reaching for his white knives before he remembered just exactly the present day situation.
All day previously, clouds had been spotted gathering in the east, and then moving ever closer across the west. By midday the sky above was completely darkened with them. Towards the evening Legolas had gone inside to retire for the night, and so had not been present when scouts reported seeing flashes of light across the plains.
But no scouts were needed to report the thunder. It reported itself, with crashing bangs that disturbed the whole household. Thunderous rolling ripped through the forest, and strong winds blew through the trees, ripping off the dead leaves and scattering them. It seemed that in the few hours he had rested the heart of the storm had moved much closer to home.
Legolas had not known how much closer though, until he had dressed and walked outside, to stand with his father in their own courtyard. The storm, to his shock, had moved to almost directly over their forest.
The elves were not the only ones to notice the new positioning of the storm. Aragorn was much too far away to estimate it's position, but the fleet of corsair ships that sailed up the coast was not.
The captain had been called up to the deck, by request of his second in command, Urgsha. Without saying anything for the moment, Urgsha had pointed his Captain's gaze over to the storm. After giving the captain a few seconds to consider the sight, he spoke up.
"It is directly over the forest sir. By where the elven folk live."
"So it seems." The voice that spoke the response was one the crew had come to learn to respect and fear. It was icy and smooth. The eyes were narrowed as the captain turned to Urgsha, "Keep me informed of what develops. Continue this course." He re-entered his cabin.
Urgsha, a large, burley man, stood up on deck, watching the woods with anticipation. He knew what this storm could possibly mean, and the ideas of all that gold excited him.
Legolas was close by when it happened. He had been standing with his father when a flash of light had momentarily blinded him. A second later, a huge crash of thunder had deafened his ears. Yet it had not even taken him a second to know.
Somewhere in the forest a tree was burning.
Its screams of agony were heartbreaking to listen to. The panic of the trees around it was almost overwhelming. Legolas hurried out of the palace, shouting orders to guards as he went. His father was behind him, doing the same.
He had not even reached the bottom of the stairs before he knew that the fire had spread. By the time he reached the gate to the forest he knew that the fire was already spreading rapidly out of control.
He shouted to the guards, "Find the flames and douse them! Gather others to assist. Have the women collect rags and soak them in the river. Have men clear away any underbrush in range of the burning site. Hurry, we must stop this before it spreads!"
Guards ran every which way, hurrying to carry out the orders. The point of where the lighting had struck was discovered, and far in the middle of the forest a dim light could be seen. Smoke was quickly expanding across the sky, and the fire spread as swiftly as the wind. No other thoughts were on his mind then to halt the inferno quickly as Legolas ran directly towards where the fire burned.
As Legolas's mind was consumed with one thought, so was the corsair captain's. He had been called up again, and had instantly seen why. Already smoke was obstructing his view of the forest. He grinned.
He turned to Urgsha, "Have the men prepare for combat. Steer our ships towards the river outlets to the sea, we shall sail up them as far as possible, and then cover the remaining distance on land. I plan to see many elven slaves in our hold by the time this fire has burnt itself out."
Urgsha grinned, "Aye sir. I shall see to it."
The ships turned upon their altered course. They were but a day's sail away from the first river outlet. River's which would lead them to the heart of Mirkwood.
As Legolas ran he felt it. The original tree, a great oak terribly dry from the lack of rain, had fallen silent. But it was more than that. His entire presence had vanished. And Legolas knew the tree was dead. It had gone out in a great burst of ashes and showering sparks. Sparks that quickly caught on the withered leaves of other branches. The tiny sparks led to roaring fires, which led to new branches being caught anew. And so, less than ten minutes after the first initial strike, Mirkwood was ablaze.