A Monkey's Harp: Who says it was a guy?...
Juvenile Delinquent: That came from the recesses of a demented mind... and not entirely only my own.
Yup, here's the other chapter I said was almost ready. And Nea's computer is shot, and she's got so much stuff to do on her own just with school and jobs even without trying to get her own stories updated that I don't feel right bugging her about checking my work right now. Her's is great, as ever--only two more chapters for Not A Word--I can't wait! (and luckily, I don't have to--I get to bug her while she's writing. LOL.)
Chapter 10
Nenya smiled as she heard them begin complaining as they continued on their way to the palace. Were they never happy? The thought amused her—she sounded like an old nana would after years of putting up with complaining children.
"Why are we going back? We haven't learned anything really helpful."
Legolas agreed silently, his eyes narrowing on the elf leading them back. The others hung back without a word, letting him catch up with her quickly. "Well?" he asked when he was beside her.
She shrugged. "You wanted to go back, so, back we go."
"What help has this been to anyone?"
"You will know that soon enough. It is only a visit. There is much for us to do yet, but I think I've thought of something you would like to ask Thranduil to provide us with."
"What?"
She glanced over her shoulder at the elves, then glanced up at him with a smile. "Horses."
"Would it make that large a difference?"
She shook her head, vaguely affronted he hadn't understood her jest. "It would be a hindrance, more than anything." She glanced up at Argile. "And we are moving much more quickly now than we did before, not merely because they have motivation for doing so."
Legolas nodded slightly. "I wondered." He glanced around, but could still not quite tell where they were. "We made it to the old path much more quickly than I had expected."
"And we passed the mountains yesterday."
"We did?" He frowned, looking behind them. "Why didn't we notice them?"
"Because I didn't lead you by them. We are north of them, yes, but there was no reason for you to have them as a landmark this time."
He was still certain they should be almost to reach the mountains… in a few days, so he didn't hesitate to swing himself up into one of the trees around them, rapidly bursting through the canopy. He blinked a few times and was able to see, but the mountains were not ahead of them. Turning his head he could see them a ways behind.
Argile called below him, and was answered by a falcon that flew in large circles over the trees. Zetea. With a shake of his head, Legolas ran through the tree tops for a moment, catching up with Zetea until she began flying in slow circles once more. He made his way to the forest floor quickly, thankful his eyes had grown accustomed to the rapid switches from bright sun-light to forest darkness while they were in the flets of Nenya's home.
Nenya was ever ahead of the others, her long strides eating up the land while the others were content to keep up an easy, more relaxed pace. Legolas caught her up and sent her a questioning look.
She smiled faintly, her eyes steady on the ground beyond them. "You all have gained a good amount of energy and stamina. We are but a week away from being in Thranduil's halls."
"You made it in a week."
"You improved, nearly cutting the travel time in half, through faster and longer days. I need no pause for food or sleep, and I never walk when I have somewhere to be."
"Unless you must."
She bowed her head slightly, accepting the truth of his statement. They continued in silence for a time, unbroken except for an occasional cry from Argile to his mate.
"Was Zetea with us on the first journey?"
"From the second day," Nenya agreed softly. "She didn't answer him, though. This time you know her, so she feels free to speak with him."
"What other creatures watch us?"
She slowly smiled, a quick glance from the corner of sparkling black eyes telling him he wouldn't know unless he found out.
"It's a difficult thing to discover," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest crossly.
She laughed softly, but Argile distracted her from anything she may have said. He had called to Zetea, but had not gotten a response. When a second call produced nothing, Argile flew into the canopy out of sight, and Nenya came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes again took on the flickering look she got when hunting, the same she had worn when she came to the palace. Argile and Zetea both returned suddenly, talking to Nenya so quickly the few things the others had learned were negated.
Nenya's head twisted to the west, her eyes narrowing as her lips compressed in apparent anger. She spoke to them quickly, and then turned to the elves who had come to circle near the place she had stopped. "We must make haste. Do not fear unless you see an orc or a black spider, and do not harm any creature other than those two." She waited until Argile and Zetea came back, Argile flying straight ahead of them as Zetea rose through the branches to escape the darkness once more. Nenya took off after Argile, turning to run backwards from time to time, keeping an eye on the elves behind her.
They felt the urgency of the moment, even though they didn't understand it, and ran with her as quickly as they could. Legolas tried to catch the things the falcons were saying, but it was of no use. The watchful edge he had always felt around them since they first left the palace suddenly caught his attention… because it was shrinking.
He started to reach for his bow, but paused and left it where it was. Nenya glanced back, having sensed the motion, and nodded slightly, before she ran on as before. The circle grew smaller, and he could sense blurs around them which he couldn't take his eyes from the land at his feet long enough to see for fear of tripping. The blurs grew bigger, and had feet which padded softly on the ground. Amid his own belabored breathing and that of the other elves around him, Nenya annoyingly excluded, he could hear panting.
A long howl rose up on the edge of the circle, sending the hairs on Legolas's neck standing at attention. Nenya spun around and stopped, the elves all catching up in an instant. She drew her sword, the one she had brought from some flet she hadn't allowed them in, and yelled one word at them—"Go!"
The wolves, which they could all now see they were, pressed on, nipping at heels when the elves ran the wrong way or went too slowly. Legolas tried to look over his shoulder to see Nenya, but the darkness of the woods and the distance they were achieving made it impossible.
Oleydya was the first to break, falling to her knees, unable to run any farther. At once the wolves stopped, many coming up beside her, nudging her gently as if to get her to her feet again. But even with the help of hands she couldn't go more than a few steps before she was unable to go any farther.
"No," a whispered breath said. Legolas looked back to see Nenya taking in the halted group at a glance, her eyes wide and worried, before determination settled within them, wiping them clean of emotions once more. She bit her lower lip and frowned, before speaking quickly in a tongue he didn't understand. She shifted something on her back, letting it fall to the ground. Two of the larger wolves came up on either side of it and helped the injured wolf stand, staying beside it as slowly the sound of something chasing them came to the ears of the elves waiting, heralded by Zetea's long, morning cry.
Nenya withdrew her sword once more, and looked at Oleydya. "Climb."
Oleydya sighed softly, still trying to get her breath, but she found a low branch and began climbing, the process excruciatingly slow until she was nearly out of sight. Nenya called to Argile, who settled himself in the tree above Oleydya, keeping careful watch as the young she-elf drew her cloak around her, effectively hiding her from any who didn't know where she was.
"Ready yourselves," Nenya hissed to the rest of them, her eyes narrowing, the glitter of stars fading as anger took hold. Anger and hate.
"What comes?" Legolas asked softly, notching an arrow as he came up beside her, Ertelen and Miranol standing behind Dareklien, Ertelen calmly prepared while Miranol gripped his sword somewhat nervously. A smith first, and a warrior second… and only in his spare time, but he knew, basically, what to do.
"Men." The word was a curse, and soon enough the sounds of clanking could be identified as the fastenings men use to control their horses and dogs, both of which the elves had heard for a while. Anger burned cold and black in Nenya's eyes, emptying them entirely of stars as her lips pulled back from her teeth in an animal snarl. "They come in a hunting party."
After the wolves. Legolas's eyes narrowed as he recalled the injured wolf who's blood now decorated Nenya's shoulder and back in a glistening display of the crudeness the beings coming towards them embodied. His jaw tightened as he drew himself upright, putting his weapon away, his eyes flashing as the men came charging through the woods.
"Halt!" he called, knowing they undoubtedly didn't know the tongue of the elves, and not really caring.
"Get off the path, stranger," one of the men called.
Legolas threw back his hood as he moved forward slightly, revealing his ears. The others followed his example. "You are the stranger here," Legolas informed them, changing his speech to a tongue they understood. "What right have you to hunt the creatures in the elven king's domain, you who are not elves?"
"We can hunt wolves if we please."
"And if I were to tell you these creatures are under his protection from hunting, would that mean nothing?"
One of the men lowered his chin, glaring at the elf before them. He glanced at the others. "Four warrior elves and a she-elf think they can uphold any decree of the king's here, assuming there is such an elf?" he sneered. "Looks to me like you should be more concerned about the safety of your weakest member," he growled low in his throat, his eyes raking over Nenya, once he determined that she was, in fact, female. His lip curled slightly, taking in her masculine clothing.
She was about to respond when Legolas stepped forward once more. He threw his cloak back over his shoulders, lifting his head in defiance. "Everyone before you has great skill with their weapons of choice. Think wisely before you decide to deny or decry the power of the king when before any elves, but especially in the presence of those who are from his bloodline."
It was only then that they noticed Legolas wore the symbol of the elven king. They may not have believed he still lived, thinking surely immortal elves were a story simply told to children, but here was living, arguing proof that the king still lived, and more, had a son.
"How old are you, kid? Eighteen?" one of the older men asked.
Legolas lifted a brow at them. "Age is of little importance to the firstborn. I have seen more winters than all of you put together. To truly know it in years, which is only a measure used by mortals, or counted by elves for those beings, I would have to consult the chronicles. I am neither very young, nor yet old." He drew his bow in a move so fast the men missed it. "The time to speak has passed. You can either return to your homes at the edge of this wood, where the King does not mind you being, or you can attempt to press deeper into the darkness, past us. Make your choice."
The men looked at each other for a moment, a few of the younger ones, who were about as old as the elves appeared to their eyes, reached for their weapons, but the older ones had heard from traders who dealt with the elves. It was said they were forever young, and any who could be called even slightly skilled in any craft were almost certainly beyond the masters among humans. They were supposedly in tune with the world around them, and could see farther, hear better, and move more quickly than humans. So it was said, and some were unwilling to believe things that were passed down around campfires, while others had already seen some proof of at least one point.
One of the younger members, sensing the indecision around him, took it upon himself to race forward, intent on stealing the she-elf from them before hoping his comrades would help dispose of the others. His horse ran forward at his sharp prompting, and Nenya lowered her head slightly, focusing her pitch-black eyes on the horse. The horse's eyes rolled slightly as it reared, pawing the air before it as its impulsive rider fell to the ground. With a shrieking noise the frightened horse turned and bolted, the sound causing many of the other horses to rear, and all trembled even if they kept their hooves on the ground out of loyalty to the men who held their reigns tightly. Nenya grabbed a low branch and swung into the trees, walking along a branch that hung relatively low. As she approached the horses they began backing up, despite the force their riders tried to use to get them to move forward. When she held her hands out towards the horses and made an angry hissing noise the horses all bolted, some with and many without their riders.
The men on the ground shook the sense back into their heads and looked up as the she-elf, the 'weakest member', dropped silently to the ground, her nearly black cloak flapping about her, a long, dark look making their hunting dogs whine and back away, though they clung to their masters with soft whimpers.
"Leave the wolves alone," she hissed, her lips drawn back over teeth that glistened in the light of their torches.
The men scrambled to their feet and grabbed at their things, running after their horses with a few backward looks that were meant to assure the elves they left only to find their horses, not because of the fear now running wild in their veins.
When they were gone, Nenya sighed and seemed to shrink slightly, turning to the elves around her. "Leyda, you may come down," she murmured softly. "Argile!"
The falcon flew off, calling incessantly. The sounds faded, and the elves looked at each other in confusion. Nenya sat down with her back to a tree, closing her eyes for a long moment. Slowly she smiled and looked up at Legolas. "You learn quickly, prince."
"I think I have learned very little," he countered, kneeling beside her.
"Yes?" she asked softly, closing her eyes once again. "What have you learned since leaving your father's halls?"
He thought about that. He had learned to walk longer and faster, to exist on less food and water and still be satiated, to trust his instincts more or less blindly, to climb trees without thought or care. He had learned what was needed to be a self-sufficient wood-elf, and he had learned that the 'spider specialist' before him was a friend of both falcons and wolves, but didn't believe herself to be a friend elves would want. "Many things," he answered after a moment.
She smiled faintly and turned her head to the path they had been traveling an instant before the others could hear the approaching creatures. The falcons continued their endless circles, but the wolves came in close, edging slightly around the male elves, but pressing against the she-elves. Nenya smiled and calmly pulled the largest one to her, burying her face in the wolf's neck. A few younger wolves curled up around her feet, others milled around, but they all shied from being approached. Unless it was Nenya or Oleydya who did the approaching.
Legolas watched them, and was surprised to see they all were in shades of light instead of black. Silvery white seemed to be the predominate color, and was the color the large wolf Nenya was hugging wore.
"What of the injured one?" he asked after a moment.
She glanced up and sighed softly. "They will have taken her home, where she will be brought food until the wound has determined itself."
"Will you do nothing?"
"What can I do for them in the palace, Legolas? Whatever help I could provide would only work in the forest."
He looked back at the path they had taken. "You can make it there and back in a week," he murmured softly.
"You have not enough food."
He shrugged. "Get one of your friends to bring us more."
"It is not your decision to make," she informed him primly, getting to her feet. "You cannot simply say leave and expect your companions will enjoy sitting around doing nothing." She shook her head. "No, this is not an option."
"Then what do you suggest that gets you to them on time to help?"
She lowered her eyes and sighed softly. "I cannot leave you out here as you are. You cannot walk back in time, and are incapable of running back." She looked at the wolves and lowered herself to a crouch in front of the largest. She spoke to the wolf quickly, as Legolas realized for the first time the wolf was female, and apparently the leader of the pack. Nenya stood up again and turned to them. "We shall all return. We should arrive in time."
"How?" he asked, before he heard Oleydya shriek. He turned to see her clutching the thick coat of a wolf she was astride. "Leyda, what are you—" he was cut off by seeing a wolf walk up behind Ertelen and more or less ram his way forward so the elf was suddenly sitting on the wolf's back. Miranol and Dareklien were also sitting by the time Legolas could blink. He looked behind himself in suspicion, earning a soft chuckle from Nenya. She looked at a large, slightly darker colored wolf, who quickly walked behind Legolas.
He sighed and felt the world tilt as he was knocked off his feet despite the slight preparation of knowing it was coming. "I take it you're going to ride the leader?" he asked, tilting his head at the largest wolf.
Nenya lifted a brow at him. "Why would I want to do that?" she asked softly, taking off at a run, the wolves springing into action behind her.
The wolves they were riding took a moment to get used to having riders, and for the riders to get used to the odd form of riding, and then they were in the thick of things, Legolas's wolf running up to Nenya's right side as Oleydya's drew up on her left. Both were slightly behind still, as Nenya and the silver wolf seemed to be given the right to lead the pack. For the first time they were able to watch Nenya run without merely watching as her lithe form rapidly left them behind. Her always long strides lengthened even farther, into an easy loping gait that was reminiscent of the wolves around them.
"Run with them often?" Legolas asked, calling over the soft sound of padded feet and panting breath, along with the watery sound of wind rushing past them.
She laughed, brightly, joyfully. Her eyes sparkled with life when she glanced over at him for an instant, before her steps diverted from the path since it was blocked by an old tree which had fallen many years before. The wolves split to go around the obstacle, reforming quickly, each one straining eagerly forward, obviously enjoying the run.
Soon the trees thinned slightly, and the ground became rockier. Nenya was given the undeniable position of leadership as the silver wolf dropped back to running on her heels. Nenya led them between the valley of the mountains, using her hands from time to time as the climb grew steep or dropped off too suddenly. In single file the wolves ran behind her, trusting that where she ran they could as well, though some places were a bit harder for them, and others were harder for her.
A long howl came up from the back of the group, and was echoed up, one by one, as they ran on. It startled him when the wolf beneath him picked up the melody the wolves had started, the tone shivering and trembling within the body between his knees, and he nearly fell off as the wolf's gait changed, the wolf leaping forward as if the note brought him off the ground.
A slightly higher tone burst forth from the wolf just ahead of his, the one that as she cried out to the moon hidden by the trees drew up beside Nenya. A new note rang in the air, drawing his attention from the trees. It was a little smoother, a bit less… wolfish. It warbled and hung on the air just the same.
Looking up he saw Nenya's head lower slightly as the note trailed off, watched as she regained her normal stride as they continued. The wolf song rose up around them, unbroken for a long while. As it continued, Legolas watched Nenya, watched the wolves he could see, saw their moods seemed to fluctuate with the notes. For the first time he saw it as an expression of the group's emotions. At moments higher with the sheer joy of the run, of being together, at times lamenting the uncertain fate of one of their members at the hands of men. Now and again Nenya's voice rose with theirs, and as he concentrated he could pick up sorrow, loss, anger, and even a hint of fear.
What she had to fear he couldn't guess, nor even begin to imagine.