Of Punishments and Pipeweed
A/N - This is a week after the foursome have been given their punishments. Just so you know, this chapter is a bit long. I'll try to make them shorter in the future.
Dimrost entered the clearing of an archery range. A line of twenty or so targets stood at the far end. A group of young elflings stood in little gaggles of friends, chatting and holding mini competitions for the best singer, fastest runner, etc. Dimrost couldn't hold back a smile at the sight of them. They had started training since about age nine (the equivalent to three), some had progressed much quicker than others had. This was Dimrost's level two class. Levels took children anywhere between four and five years, and each month Dimrost would review the classes to see if anyone was ready to move onto the next level.
The levels were set by what bow you were on. Each level had two bows. To move up a bow took two to two and a half years. The higher the level of bow, the tighter the string, and the higher the class, the more difficult the tasks.
Once a child could do a certain amount, they were moved onto the next level. Dimrost felt that some of the level two group were either ready to move up a bow or class, but he had to check.
"Alright you lot!" the master archer barked, "Playtime's over now, all go and get yourself a practice archery set!"
Immediately the kids hurried over to the pile of practice bows, arrows and quivers. They were miniatures of normal archery kits. There were two types of bow, the normal bow, and the war bow. Real war bows had blades on the top part, between the grip and the tip. This meant that soldiers didn't have to change from bow to sword when it came to close combat.
Once all the young ones had a bow in hand and a quiver with twelve arrows strapped to their backs, Dimrost gave his orders,
"Right, you all know your tasks. I'm going to review you one by one. I'll start with those on first bows. Ninde, you first."
Ninde walked over to the master archer for her test, she knew well what she had to do. Taking position, she began. Meanwhile, the others stood and talked quietly so as not to disturb her. Once she was done, the next first bow child was called, and it went on like this, until all the first bows were finished.
"Second bows be ready please!" Dimrost called over to the group of children, "Nimloth, you first."
Legolas sat with his friends talking about the punishments they were being forced to do. Yesterday's work had left the four of them stiff and sore. Silently, each was praying that it didn't mess up their performance in their test. All of them really wanted to get onto level three. Teiglin walked past them to do his test and they smiled encouragingly at him. Mindeb was next, then Laurevil, and then,
"Legolas!"
"Good luck!" Earelen said quickly as Legolas walked over to Dimrost.
"Why so nervous Legolas? You of all people really needn't be worried." Dimrost said to the prince with a smile.
Legolas merely gave the master archer a weak smile and hoped Dimrost was right.
"Right, when you're ready."
Legolas began, each task he performed as best he could, gaining confidence along the way. His sore hands didn't hinder him too much, once or twice they ached quite badly but he kept going and it passed. After he had performed all the tasks Legolas turned to Dimrost, hoping to see an answer in his eyes, but the Silvan archer's eyes were unreadable. Dimrost went and looked at where each arrow had landed on the target and carefully jotted down some notes on the paper he had before returning to the prince's side.
"Well done, very well done." Dimrost told his young pupil, a smile once more touching his lips before turning to the other children, "Aros! You next."
Finally all the level two class had been assessed; all the elflings left the clearing except Legolas and his friends who still had to help Dimrost after lessons.
"You know what do by now I believe," Dimrost said with a smile to the four little ones, "You just get in with it while I work on who'll be working where next month."
The four glumly set to work, Earelen went to retrieve the arrows out of the targets, Balar scouted around to check none had gone off-course and were lying in the grass, Aros gathered the bows, and Legolas the quivers. Once everything had been collected in they set about cleaning them. All the bows had to be rubbed down so that the wood was still smooth and the arrows would fly well. The arrows had to be checked to ensure that they hadn't been dented and then they too had to be polished. All the quivers had to be checked inside and out; the straps had to be clean and smooth, the buckles had to be polished to stop them from going rusty, and the insides had to be cleaned so the arrows didn't get stuck. They were about half way through doing all this when Aros saw Arhival approaching.
"What's Arhival doing coming over here? When we finish Dimrost takes us to her so she can supervise us. She needn't come and get us." Aros said in a puzzled voice.
When he said Arhival's name Legolas' head had jerked up to look.
"Oh no!" the young prince breathed.
"What?" asked Balar.
"That man from Dale's coming today! Adar organised a formal meal for when he arrived."
"So? What's the big deal? It's only a meal." Earelen pointed out.
"No, you don't understand, formal meals are, well, formal. Formal clothes, boring talk, and very few at the meal. That means Adar, Aegnor and Gelion, the man from Dale, anyone he brings with him, and me. It's awful, the clothes are horrible to wear and it's so boring."
As the young prince said this, he moved away from the pile of archery sets and moved into a crouch, like someone ready to run.
"Legolas," Earelen began in a warning voice, "I don't think you should run. We've been in enough trouble already."
"You don't understand! It's like a private family meal where adults sit and chat about politics. You can't tell me you've never tried to get out of something like that."
"I have." Balar admitted.
"Same." Aros confessed.
"Earelen." Legolas prompted.
"Ok, I did."
"I don't ask you to come." Legolas told them as he backed quietly towards the edge of the clearing.
"We know that," Balar said, "But how do you expect to get away without us."
With that, they took off, just as Arhival and Dimrost came into the clearing. The two elves groaned, they should have known the little prince would run.
"I'll go after them." Arhival said as she took off, but Dimrost followed; they were more likely to catch the foursome together.
The little ones ran all around the palace grounds, utterly confusing their pursuers. When they had lost them, the four young ones stopped for a breather, right on the forest edge. Legolas was staring into the trees.
"Legolas," Aros said, an edge of worry in his voice, "Legolas, we can't go in there, we're in enough trouble as it is."
"I have to try to get out of this!" Legolas protested.
"We have tried to get you out of this," Balar pointed out, "We can keep going like this."
"Besides, your Adar said we weren't allowed into the forest until he said we could go in." Earelen pointed out.
Legolas thought back to the day they had been given their punishments. Thranduil's voice drifted through his head, "You four are not allowed into the forest to play until further notice." 'To play!' Legolas suddenly remembered, then said quickly, "No! He said we weren't allowed into the forest to play! He didn't say not at all!"
"You're right!" Balar said joyfully.
"But-" Earelen began.
"Earelen, we aren't playing, are we? Besides, you miss the forest as much as we do. Come on, let's go in." Aros said before Earelen could finish her sentence.
"Oh all right. But I still don't think this is a good idea."
With that the four elflings took off into the forest, just as Arhival and Dimrost spotted them..
"Oh no!" Arhival groaned, "They're in so much trouble! They're not allowed in the forest yet."
"We had better inform Thranduil." Dimrost said with a sigh, "He will not be pleased."
"I will not be pleased about what, Dimrost?" A voice said in a slightly cold tone from behind them.
The pair froze, then slowly turned to face Thranduil, who stood with his arms
folded across his chest and one elegant golden eyebrow raised. He repeated the
question slightly louder,
"I will not be pleased about what, Dimrost?"
Dimrost swallowed in a dry throat and glanced apprehensively at Arhival, who looked about as nervous as he felt. Thranduil could scare even adult elves when he tried.
Meanwhile, the four young ones were dashing thorough the forest, determined not to be caught. After a while they slowed down and came to a path that they knew well; if they followed it, the path would lead them to Morn Nen.
"I don't think they're following us." Balar said jovially .
"It's so good to be back among the trees," Earelen sighed happily, "Don't you think?"
"Too true." Legolas agreed, "I never realised how much this forest meant to me, until I wasn't allowed in."
"Same with me," Aros said, "It gets rather dull, staying in a confined area for so long. I wonder how the dwarves cope in their mines?"
The four laughed. They had slowed to a walk and were now ambling along, breathing the forest air, chatting merrily. Finally, Balar asked,
"Why were you so desperate to get out of that dinner anyway Legolas. You're not normally so insistent."
Legolas was silent for a moment, his eyes on the ground. When he answered, it was in a quiet, sad voice, "Last time someone from Dale was here, I was only six. (two to us) me and my brothers, we did things with Naneth then, we-"
He stopped talking and swallowed hard, he wouldn't let grief be his master. He didn't understand why he still couldn't talk about her. The young prince sighed before continuing, "We did things together. All those memories, even though they are so happy, they are painful to recall. Naneth is painful to recall. I miss her so much."
"I'm sorry." Balar said, he hadn't meant to bring up painful memories.
"It's ok," Legolas said with a small smile, then he grinned, "But do you reckon this will work?"
With that they continued down the forest path, chattering and singing like birds. They hadn't gone too far when a strange smell reached their nostrils and thin wisps of smoke clouded the air.
"What is this stuff?" Balar asked as they slowed their pace some more.
"No idea," replied Aros.
They continued for a time but all the while, the smoke was getting thicker, and the smell stronger. All of a sudden, Earelen stopped one hand on her chest, the other supporting herself against a tree. Her breathing was shallow and slightly harder than normal.
"Earelen what is it?" Legolas asked, concerned.
"I can't breath." She gasped, "My chest, it's so tight."
She was on the verge of collapsing when they heard a voice floating down the path on the breeze to them. It was coming out of the smoke.
"Quick hide!" Legolas hissed quietly.
Aros and Balar scrambled into the bushes just off the path, while Legolas carefully helped Earelen in behind them. They out of sight not a moment to soon, for just then, an old man wearing grey robes, a grey cloak and a pointed blue hat appeared. He was carrying a tall wooden staff and was veiled in the strange smelling smoke. He had long grey hair, a long grey beard and bushy grey eyebrows. He sung quietly to himself as he approached the part of the path where the young elves had left it.
"The road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began;
Now far ahead the road has gone,
And I must follow if I can.
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it meets some larger way;
Where many paths and errands meet,
And whither then I cannot say-"
The old man suddenly stopped singing and froze, right beside the elflings' hiding place. Somehow, he knew they were there. How he knew, none of the little ones could tell, but he did. The man turned and stared at the bushes the four were hiding in. They could see a long wooden pipe in his free hand, the strange smoke emanating from the bowl. He approached the bushes but just before he was upon them, Legolas spoke out in a clear commanding voice,
"Daro! Dartha ad!"
The man stopped in his approach.
"Why don't you come out from there little elves? I mean no harm." He said lightly in Westron.
So he knew, the four glanced at each other. Legolas understood what the man was saying, but he didn't know if the others did. As a prince, Legolas had to be able to speak Westron, the common tongue. He translated quietly as he assessed the situation, Earelen wasn't going to be able to fight for long if the need arose; she could barely breath and still looked as if she would pass out any second. Aros, Balar and himself could hold out for a while but he didn't know how long. Legolas grasped the handles of his knives; no elf of Mirkwood went out undefended any more. The others followed suit and then they stood and faced the strange man.
"What are you doing out here alone in the forest young ones?" the old man questioned them.
"Actually," Legolas said in slightly accented Westron, "I was about to ask you almost the same question. Who are you and what is your business in Mirkwood?"
The man raised his eyebrows at the young prince and stared hard at him. Legolas stared right back, unmoving.
"You must be the youngest Thranduilion, no other would be so bold."
Legolas raised a single golden eyebrow in a remarkably good imitation of his father and said, "You still haven't answered my question."
"Very well young one, I will answer you. My business is with Thranduil your king. As to my name, I have many. But to your kind usually call me Mithrandir, the Grey Pilgrim."
"If you are who you say, then you would speak elvish." was Legolas' counter, he still didn't trust the man.
"Ai, nin tithen min, a im car."
Just then, Earelen collapsed behind them.
Meanwhile, back at the palace, Arhival and Dimrost were faced with a slightly different problem.
"Well," Thranduil prompted with a hint of impatience in his voice, "Are you going to answer me or not?"
"Well…er…Thranduil," Dimrost began hesitantly, thankful the king had lowered his eyebrow, "You know…you know how you said Legolas and his friends weren't allowed to go into the forest."
Thranduil sighed, Dimrost was one of the few elves of lower rank who called him by his name rather than his title, and possible the only elf younger than him to do so.
"Yes, I know that perfectly well thank you."
"Well, he just went in."
The play of emotions that ran through Thranduil's eyes at that point would have been amusing at almost ant other time. Shock, to anger, and then to a look that said all too plainly, 'I should have know this was coming'.
"Is anyone following?" the king asked.
"No." replied Arhival.
"Then I suggest you go after them then. I need Legolas back here, and you seem able enough to follow them, and go unnoticed."
"But I was fresh on their trail then!" Arhival protested.
Finding the pesky little prince was hard enough in the grounds, never mind in the forest.
"Arhival, were you, or were you not, trained in tracking as a young elf?"
"I was sire." Arhival sighed.
"Then would you please go and fetch nin ion."
"Yes sire."
With that, Arhival turned and made her way into the forest, using all her ability to track the path of the four little ones. They were horrors to find when they didn't want to be found. Soon, she found a sign of them and was able to pick up their trail, a piece of hair here, a thread there, footprints only visible because of her elven sight; these were what she followed. Eventually, the trail led her to a track, were she bumped into someone she hadn't expected to see.
(Back with the elflings and Gandalf)
"Earelen!"
Earelen lay there, coughing and gasping for breath. Her friends were at her side in an instant, Legolas quickly turned her onto her side and lifted her head and shoulders slightly. Gandalf came to Earelen's side to and took a small flask from inside his cloak. Carefully, he gave Earelen a few small sips of the liquid within the flask. Her coughing subsided and she was soon able to breathe more freely again.
"Better?" Gandalf asked her in Elvish.
"Diolla le." Earelen said with a small smile.
"What caused that?" Balar asked.
"This probably." Gandalf said matter-of-factly, holding up his pipe, but seeing the elflings' puzzled expressions gave a more detail explanation.
"Some elves have strange reactions to pipeweed. It's odd because they're the only race that do. Have you never noticed, elves don't smoke?"
"I never knew other races did smoke." Aros commented.
"Well, that's why. Some have strange reactions. None of you boys felt anything did you?"
"It made my throat a bit dry but nothing else." Balar answered as the other two shook their heads.
"Each of you have a sip anyway." Gandalf said, handing them the flask. The three boys obeyed, Balar taking a sip first, then Aros, and finally Legolas.
Gandalf rose to his feet, the young ones following suit gracefully.
"Do other races smoke then?" Balar asked, curiously.
"Yes, a lot of men do, and dwarves are quite heavy smokers actually. And hobbits smoke a fair bit as well."
"Hobbits? What's a hobbit?" Aros asked furrowing his brow.
Gandalf chuckled as they started to walk back towards the palace.
"Hobbits," he said with a smile and shake of his head, "Amazing creatures really. Small, between two and four feet tall and they have large feet with hard soles and furry tops, they never where shoes. They love food, meaning they're often quite plump too. On the whole, a picture of innocence, a bit like you really."
Legolas snorted; them innocent! They hadn't been called that in a long time.
"But if you knew some elves have bad reactions to pipeweed, why did you smoke in an elven realm in the first place?" Earelen inquired.
"Well, normally there'd only be patrols out this far, children like you wouldn't be allowed out on your own. And there's always at least one member in a patrol who knows about pipeweed and anyone having trouble with it can be sent back with a message that I'm coming." Gandalf replied.
"But where do you know to stop smoking?" Balar asked, all curiosity.
"Well, a little further down this path there's a small stream where I put away my pipe and give myself a quick wash."
They continued to talk as they walked down the path. The young elves were full of curiosity about the wide world and other races. The little ones didn't even seem to notice that Gandalf was leading them back to where they had just put a lot of energy into escaping. All of a sudden, a surprised voice called out from slightly further on.
"Mithrandir!"
It was Arhival; only then did the little ones realise how silly they'd been. Legolas quickly slipped behind Gandalf but his sharp-eyed mentor had already seen him. Hurriedly she reached out and grabbed Legolas' arm, pulling him towards her.
"Oh no you don't you little pest. You aren't getting away from me so easily."
Legolas merely looked at her, his expression one of someone totally innocent who has been accused of a horrible crime.
"What are you talking about Arhival?" he asked in a hurt voice.
"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, and you can drop the act, it isn't going to work."
Legolas dropped the manner; his face now had an edge of surliness to it.
"He may know," Gandalf said, "But I do not, and I'm curious. These for young ones seem the picture of innocence to me."
"Innocence!" Arhival laughed, "you obviously don't know them very well!"
Translations
Adar - father
Daro - halt
Dartha ad - stay back
Ai - ah
Nin tithen min - my little one
A im car - and I can
Nin ion - my son
Diolla le - thank you
REPLY TO REVIEW (hint to anyone reading this! REVIEW! please?)
TreeHugger: Thank you for the review. I couldn't agree more with that. Seriously, Legolas should learn to control his mouth. Did I make you cry? But, it just goes from one extreme to another doesn't it? From sad to humorous. I would also like to know why parents lay on the chores so much, do you know? Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it and hope you like this just as much.