Chapter Three: A Thoughtful Interlude
The harsh rays of a Winter's sun shone down through a grove of wych elm trees; sending dappled shadows onto a ground strewn with newly fallen yellowed leaves. In the darker shadow of a tree's trunk, an animal waited, still and silent; not a muscle twitching, all senses centred towards one common goal.
Prey.
Its mottled ginger coat blended perfectly with the golden brown setting of the coppice; camouflaging it against any watching eyes.
It own amber orbs glowed slightly in the gloom, pupils black and dilated, watching for any movement in the undergrowth; waiting…
There!
A slight rustle of leaves, a flash of brown fur. The cat tensed, muscles knotting together, tail twitching in anticipation.
The little rodent sat back on its haunches, and- unaware of the danger lurking nearby- started to clean its whiskers. Come closer little one… come to me and feel my bite… As if commanded by some higher power, the shrew scampered forward a few paces, drawing ever closer to its doom. The cat positioned itself: raising its hind quarters off the ground slightly, feeling the tight muscles bound up in its back legs. The timing must be just right…
"Trak! Trak!" a harsh cry shattered the silence just as the cat uncoiled, like liquid steel. It misjudged its pounce, startled by the fieldfare's call, and landed away from its prey with a hiss of vexation.
The shrew scampered off; frightened but unharmed.
No matter.
It had escaped this one time perhaps, but there would be other opportunities… other prey… other kills.
The animal settled down once again, not hindered by impatience or frustration.
A cat has infinite patience. It could wait.
******
Legolas of Mirkwood dismounted with a sigh: for he was weary with the pains of travel, and distressed by the loss of his comrades, or so the Elves of Imladris believed. They had greeted the Prince with smiles of joy, for it had been long since news of Mirkwood had reached the sheltered kingdom of Rivendell, but they too had shed many bitter tears at the news of the grievous loss of three of Mirkwood's finest warriors- especially that of Mordúlin, who had been dearly beloved by the Elves of Rivendell; where she had dwelt often when not out with a war party. She had been kind and gentle, and of a noble heart. It was sad tidings indeed that one such as she should be lost, especially in such troubled times, the free peoples of Middle-earth needed all the champions they could get.
But some good had come of the tragedy at least, and the Prince of Mirkwood had reached them unharmed: in body if not in soul, for the death of friends can affect one more deeply than the surface shows, and so it was a subdued Erestor- chief counsellor of Elrond Peredhil- who came to greet Legolas on that cold morning, hoping fervently to find the Prince not too deeply anguished… there were matters of great importance to be taken care of in Rivendell, and Legolas would have to be fit in mind if he was to join the council as Lord Elrond had planned.
"Mae Govannen, Legolas. Un siniath tul-vys, ananta vys i maer?"[1] asked the Elf Lord carefully, watching closely to see how Legolas reacted.
"Dan aur, Erestor," answered Legolas with a small smile, he turned to his horse and busied himself with his saddle bags. "Amin estel in rad vys maer? Trasta-vyskel il-o-sina edhel, amin athon guinar le-rim bod-i-elen…"[2]
Erestor sighed, it seemed to him that Legolas was certainly not alright, especially talking like that… and that smile… it just didn't seem right, Erestor decided that he would keep a close eye on the Prince.
"Amin elea… vysa'tarias mesta ant ekhant vys drauth, hiluvan ar'vys tur-serin." He paused, wondering whether to tell Legolas of the meeting, he decided on a compromise. " Rata, lye athon quente."[3]
The other Elf stiffened, but didn't protest, he must be really tired, Erestor thought, for normally the Elven Prince would not have stood for being told to rest; he would have insisted on talking there and then.
This time however, he merely bowed his head, muttered a "Vys vee'iest"[4] tossed his reins to a servant with curt orders to care for his horse, and followed the Elf Lord without another word.
******
Legolas stood outside on his balcony, watching the sun cast a golden glow across the landscape as it rose. The soft gurgle of a small stream and the sigh of the wind in the branches of young willow trees should have been relaxing; it was to everyone else; but all it did was stoke the fury in Legolas' heart. It wasn't just the trees and the merry stream which earned his ire however, it was the whole place.
Rivendell.
He hated it
He hated the way the flowers always bloomed so perfectly. He hated the way the birds always twittered in the trees. He hated the way everyone had a smile on their faces. He hated the trees, the rivers, the fields, the animals, the songs, the people… the whole ambience of the place just got under his skin. He loathed being there. It made him feel… dirty, but that was not the right word… polluted. Yes, that was it: polluted by all the joy and light. It made him want to vomit.
He twisted his lips in involuntary disgust. Of all the things he hated most about Rivendell, Lord Elrond the Half Elven was the thing he loathed the most. He epitomised everything that Legolas reviled: he was Wise and judicious, a fair and just ruler. He was loved by all these simpering fools in Rivendell and in other realms, for they believed him to be good and kind: sheltering the poor and needy, healing the sick--- the weak who should be left to die, in Legolas' opinion--- but mostly Legolas despised him because he was powerful; commanding respect and reverence without demanding it.
Legolas tapped the balcony rail thoughtfully with one hand; massaging his knife hilt with the other. Powerful you may be my Lord, and wise also. But soon you will bow to me! And you will grovel at my feet… begging for release, begging for death…as will all who have dared oppose me. You will learn the price is high for those who resist the will of the Black Wind. For the day approaches when all my enemies shall feel the wrath of the NEW Dark Lord: Legolas Daesuuru; greatest and most terrible of them all! With strength enough with the ruling ring to challenge even the Valar! Even Eru the One himself! None shall stop me! I shall be King on High, supreme ruler of the universe... and all shall cower before me!
Legolas smiled to himself, and drew his dagger from its scabbard. He held it lightly in one hand, stroking the smooth, black blade with the other; assiduously tracing the patterns of silver on its hilt. It was a beautiful weapon, and his most valued possession, it had served him well over the years. Ever faithful, ever true. An Elf's best friend. Perhaps he should poison the blade… an interesting thought, worth serious deliberation. It was make killing easier… but then maybe it would also make it less pleasurable?
He felt a twinge in his jaw and touched his face with a grimace. His jaws shouldn't have been hurting so long after Crickhen's attack, it shouldn't have, but it was, and he was pretty sure he knew why. The bastard wizard had done something to him that afternoon—and not just horribly torture him—no, it had been some kind of Black Magic, he was sure of that. A little reminder to Legolas that the wizard was watching, and waiting for him to make some kind of mistake.
Well, he wasn't going to give Crickhen the pleasure. He was not going to be making any mistakes; not this time, not ever… to be sure, he wasn't going to follow the Higher's plan for him, he was going to do it his own way, for his own gains. And then… Legolas thrust his dagger into the dark wood of the balcony rail-it was polished, and the dagger didn't make a dent- and then, the Wizard would pay. Oh yes, he would pay dearly.
Smirking sadistically, Legolas twisted his dagger round in the wood, watching the silver catch the sun and gleam brilliantly. He would make the wizard scream so loud his vocal cords would rip in his throat; his eyes would bulge in their sockets. He would make him beg for death and then he would-
"I am not sure whether tis safe approach, for I do not think I have ever seen you look so murderous, Legolas." Said a voice, starting him out of his thoughts with a jump. "What troubles you my old friend?"
"Aragorn!" said Legolas, focusing on the man leaning in the doorway. He blinked and shook his head. "Forgive me, I did not hear you approach" Curses! He thought how long has he been there…did I speak anything I shouldn't have? Damn my preoccupation!
"Then those keen Elven ears of yours must be stuffed fool of sheep's fur." Laughed Aragorn, the light of jest shining in his normally sombre grey eyes. "If they cannot pick up the thud of these old boots on a wooden floor."
"Or maybe you are spending too much time in the company of the fair folk, Dúnadan," replied Legolas, slipping smoothly back into his good and honourable façade; smooth, like a knife through warm butter. "For you walk now as lightly as any of my Elf kin."
"A compliment indeed, I am honoured!" sad Aragorn. He straightened and strode over to Legolas, grasping his arm in an affectionate greeting. "Tis good indeed to see you again, Legolas. With the news of the growing shadow over Mirkwood, I feared for you and yours."
Legolas looked and him thoughtfully, released his arm and sheathed his dagger. Fool! He thought with a silent laugh worry about me? You should keep your worry for yourself my "friend" aloud he said. "I thank you for your concern, Aragorn, indeed the threat of the dark is looming greatly over my homeland, and I only wish I could be there to protect it, however a mission of great importance brings me to Rivendell, and now I learn that something bigger has come to pass here… will we never be free to live in peace?"
Aragorn sighed. "The answer to that I know not, but I hope…"he paused. "enough of that now, how fare you? I heard about the loss of Mordúlin, Darrion and Aritiach, grieved indeed you must be."
Legolas painted an elegiac look on his face. "Aye… but we can not dwell on the past, not when there is so much to see to in the present. Later, when I am through with all this.. then maybe, I will find time to mourn them properly, as they deserve."
Aragorn nodded soberly, and was about to say something when a single clear bell rang out. The pair of them paused for a second, then the man said: "That is the warning bell for the Council of Elrond, you are to attend also Legolas, that was what I was sent to tell you… come, we must hurry."
He turned and strode quickly out the door, Legolas paused a second before hurrying after him, it was time to but his plan into action…. He truly was a master of subterfuge.
******
Right, I wasn't actually going to post most of this, but since I haven't actually got round to the rest yet, I might as well.. a little bit of dramatic irony you might say. Sorry there's absolutely no action in this chapter *yawn* but I promise there will be in the next one.. Hang in there ok? ;)
[1]Translation: Well met Legolas, bad tidings you bring, but you are well?
[2] Translation: Good day Erestor, I hope I find you well? Trouble yourself not with this Elf, I will live (meaning survive) to see the stars again…
[3] Translation: I see… Your difficult journey has made you weary, follow me and you can rest Later we will talk.
[4] Translation: As you wish.