Aragorn walked in the midst of the five silent elves, his hands bound. One elf moved in synchrony with his own steps on either side of him, two went ahead, one finding the way and the other leading Aragorn, while the fifth elf travelled behind him. Aragorn could see little and hear less but he knew that they were travelling steadily southward, disregarding the more well-tended paths and following always the darkest, shadiest path which was overgrown with sick-looking plants that trailed over and under their feet, seeming to wish to trip them.
At first, Aragorn had attempted to speak to the elves, to try to gain some kind of rapport with them, hoping against hope that he could persuade them to alter their course and leave him instead at the eastern border, where the journey to Rivendell would be easiest for him. For he had decided that he would return to Rivendell for a brief time. Time enough to rest and explain to Lord Elrond what had happened to him, to warn him, if he did not know already, of the Woodland King's growing enmity to all men. His attempts to speak with the elves had been met only with silence. Indeed, they gave no sign that they had heard his voice at all, their eyes never deviating from the trees around them, the path at their feet and the way ahead of them.
As they travelled south for many miles, Aragorn could feel the evil of Dol Guldur growing like a shadow. It was true that Gandalf had driven Sauron from his stronghold there, but anywhere the Dark Lord resided was forever tainted and the land was welcoming to all evil things. It had been rumoured that the Nine, the Ringwraiths had taken Dol Guldur for their own, but Aragorn knew that they had taken instead the tower of Minas Ithil and he did not fear that the enemy or the servants of the enemy would be waiting for him in Dol Guldur.
Still, though, the place was evil and probably always would be. The evil grew and intensified as they drew further south. Aragorn took the time to examine his guards carefully. The elf in the lead had Andúril in a sheath at his side, along with his own long knife and a bow and a quiver of arrows. The other elves were similarly armed with sharp knives and bows. And Aragorn noted that as they walked, their fear grew ever greater and their steps grew softer, more tightly controlled. Aragorn knew that the elves of Mirkwood were and always would be ashamed and frightened of Dol Guldur. The thought that the Dark Lord himself had dwelt in their once-fair land had for many sullied the entire Woodland Realm. Aragorn felt a wave of pity that these five, who were doubtless fine and brave warriors should be sent on an errand such as this.
All five elves were now staring southward and the ground beneath their feet began to climb steadily upward. They were coming to the stronghold of the Necromancer. Aragorn could hear the light, rapid breathing of the elves and he could almost feel their terror mounting. Fear to the exclusion of all else was dangerous, and Aragorn knew this. Therefore he pushed his own fear aside as much as he could and tried to ignore the sounds of the elves, listening intently to the woods around them, woods that were now dark and brooding, full of a silent menace.
Almost before Aragorn heard the sound, he was in motion. His body collided with that of the elf on his left and they both fell to the ground. Aragorn rolled as he fell so that his body was covering that of his guard and dimly, he heard the thud of an arrow embedding itself in a tree. All around him was uproar and now he knew what had made him move.
A small band of orcs was hiding among the trees, their black arrows firing into the midst of the small group. One of the other guards had cast himself towards Aragorn before the danger became apparent, believing that Aragorn was attempting to escape. "To me! To me!" cried the elf who had been leading the way and Aragorn felt himself being pulled upright and pushed by anxious hands into the scant shelter offered by the trees on the other side of the overgrown path.
In the shade of the trees, the five elves paused and the leader looked at Aragorn, a frown troubling his fair face.
Mercia walked upon the stony ground that lay for miles between the eaves of Mirkwood and Anduin the Great. The sun was high in the sky and it beat down upon Mercia's head without a pause. Finally, Mercia found a patch of shade, cast by an old and withered tree that he laid his hands upon, trying to find some comfort, some kinship with the trees of Mirkwood. There was nothing.
In the comfortless shade, Mercia sat and felt about in his pack until he found some of the meagre rations of food that he had brought with him. He ate some fruit and a little bread and then under the shade that the tree cast, feel into the slumber of the elves, shutting away for the time being a little of the heartache that had descended upon him in recent days. 'Dark days indeed', was his last thought as sleep took him and he dreamed of the stars and the sea and the love that awaited him over yonder.
When Mercia returned to himself he was still lying under the tree, but the shade had moved around and now he lay in the light of the setting sun. And, he realised with a start, he could hear voices. Several gay voices raised in friendly conversation and, he noted with a pang, speaking in the elvish tongue. So lonesome was he, and so desperate to return to his homeland, that he stood and turned towards the voices openly, too worn to fear any trap.
"Hail, fellow travellers in the wild," he called and the voices ceased.
"Hail friend," came the reply from a single voice. "How came you to be here"
"I am travelling forth from Mirkwood, wandering where I will"
"Ah, Mirkwood!" came another voice, although to many ears it would have seemed the same as the first. Mercia could tell though, he could hear in just those two words that the elf who had spoken second was younger, if only by a tiny gap, quicker to react and less guarded. "Long is it since any of our folk other than my father have ridden to the Woodland Realm, but it is a fair place"
"It is," Mercia agreed, walking towards the group and stopping when he judged the distance to be correct and polite. He could hear the snorting breath of horses off to their right and hesitated only a few bare seconds before he spoke again. "And who, pray, am I addressing?" he asked.
The first voice spoke again. "I am Elladan, son of Elrond and with me is my brother Elrohir and several fine elves of our household. We are a hunting party, seeking a band of Orcs that were seen passing this way in recent days. Too often now must we do this, ride forth and clean the land of those foul creatures. And yourself, stranger? Who are you?"
Mercia knew that he did not have long to make his decision and so he barely hesitated, forcing his mind to linger on the memories of the sadness in Legolas' voice and the nobility in Aragorn's.
"My Lords Elladan and Elrohir, I beg leave to take counsel with you, for I have news that should be known to yourselves and your noble father. If you ask it of me, I will surrender my bow and knife to your keeping while we speak, but I would have you know now that I am Mercia Brethil-Dîn, and I am deeply in your father's debt for a service performed long ago"
"He has spoken of you," said Elladan, "and we will not demand the surrender of weapons from a friend of our father"
"Come, friend," said Elrohir, "let us walk together."
"Father," said Legolas, entering into the King's chamber, finding his father alone there. The King of Mirkwood turned to face his son and tried to smile, although his mind was filled with the echoes of the last words that Legolas had said to him. I love him, Ada. Curse that human. Curse him for ensnaring his son and curse him for ever crossing their borders. "Father, I would desire to know what you have done with the human." Legolas kept his voice carefully neutral, concentrating hard on seeming not to care, and asking out of curiosity only.
Thranduil looked sharply at him and then looked away again, thinking deeply for a few long moments. Finally, he decided that although Legolas was determined and sometimes headstrong, the fear of Dol Guldur would be enough to prevent any rash action. Also, he hoped that somehow, hearing that the heir of Isildur had been taken to the stronghold of Sauron would draw a clearer connection in Legolas' mind between the actions of the man's forefather and the lingering devastation that Sauron had wrought.
"He is being taken to Dol Guldur and there he shall be left to free himself from his bonds and strike forth for the borders"
"You have indeed shown mercy," Legolas said, keeping a calm mask on the turmoil raging inside of himself. That place. That awful, foul place that no elf would enter willingly, and his father had sent Estel there and would have him left there, bound and vulnerable and alone in the darkness. It was too terrible to contemplate.
"It was Mercia's words that stayed my anger," Thranduil admitted. "Rather than ask any favour for himself, he asked me to show mercy and that touched my heart, his concern, as always, for others over himself. There are few who could think of another upon banishment"
"I had not spoken to him before, but he remembered me when I was young. I will miss him"
"And I also"
"I will leave you to your affairs," Legolas said, waving a hand towards the papers on his father's desk. His father nodded.
"I love you, Legolas"
"And I love you, Ada," Legolas said.
"Loose his bonds," said the elf in a low voice. There were muted sounds of protest from the four other elves. "Loose them," the leader said again, in a tone that allowed no argument. "He could have allowed us, his guards, to walk into an ambush, and yet he did not. Loose them, I say." With that, Aragorn's wrists were freed and he looked gratefully at the leading elf who was now paying him almost no attention, and was instead arranging his meagre troops. This seemed to include Aragorn now, for he found himself being directed to the cover of a tree and the sword of Isildur was placed with reverence into his hand.
The orcs were disorganised and easily killed by the steady flow of arrows that cut them down whenever they moved into the open. Few made it through that hail of arrows and of those that did, two felt the bite of Andúril at their throats and fell dead. When all was over, Aragorn wiped the blade of his sword with care upon the grass under their feet and then stood silently, facing the elves who were arrayed before him. Two were also cleaning their weapons, but the leader was looking upon Aragorn with a new light of respect in his eyes.
"I am not willing to wholly disobey my king," he said, "and any who object to what I do know may return to the city without fear of any repercussions." None moved and the elf continued. "We shall lead you to Dol Guldur and there you shall be left, but you will go freely, as a companion, rather than a captive, if you will"
"Gladly," said Aragorn, "and I will never forget the courtesy that you have shown me"
"Do not say never," one of the elves warned, "for even we have no real understanding of the word, and to us, your lives are but the blink of an eyelid"
"Maybe so," said Aragorn, "let me say then, that as long as I live, I will not forgive it. You have done me a great service."
From then, they walked together, not as friends, but as allies against the greater danger of the wild wood.
"If you are the sons of Elrond," Mercia said softly, "you would know the name of the human raised in household"
"Our brother!" Elrohir said, with love in his voice. "Aragorn, Estel, Elessar. Whatever name is given him, he is our brother, be he human or not"
"Then, lords," said Mercia, "it makes the telling harder than I had ever contemplated"
"Say not that he is dead," Elladan implored.
"Nay, not dead." Mercia took a deep breath. "My liege lord, King Thranduil of Mirkwood has taken your foster brother captive for a crime that I hold him innocent of and in attempting to support him, I have been banished. Although I had not known it myself until I came across you in the wild, I was seeking your father's house, in the hope that he could resolve the terrible situation that has arisen in the land I love so well"
"What is this?" Elrohir cried. "Captive? Brother, we ride now to Mirkwood to free him or avenge him, if that is necessary."
Mercia felt his hope die within him and he began to speak, but before he could, Elladan was speaking to his brother in a soft tone.
"Father would not have you react like this. Do you not remember how many times before your rashness has led you to peril? Stay your wrath and let us think"
"I shall do no such thing!" Elrohir said, his voice full of anger. "Care you not for Estel? Does it not matter to you that he is an innocent captive"
"Speak not thus," Elladan said sharply. "Our brother is ever in my heart, just as strongly as he is in yours. We should not attempt to resolve this matter alone, for what sway do we hold over the King of the Wood? None, brother. And yet Ada knows him well, better than most. It is a task best left to him"
"I would not leave Estel captive in that accursed wood for all the jewels, gardens and fine foods in Middle Earth, and I am shocked that you propose to do so"
"Come, brother. In the same time as we could reach Thranduil, we could reach Ada. Who would you rather come before to explain"
"It is better to ask forgiveness than permission," Elrohir said curtly.
"Not always," Elladan countered. "Sometimes diplomacy is the best course, and I believe it is the only one open to us. We are too few to attempt to free Estel by force, and we have not at our disposal the eloquence of speech that Ada has. Nay, brother, let us instead ride with all haste to our father, and tell him all that we have learned. Mercia will accompany us on our swiftest steed, if he wishes to do so"
"It would be an honour to ride alongside the sons of Elrond," Mercia told them formally.
"Very well," Elrohir said, although his voice betrayed his doubts. "I will do as you wish, brother, but I believe it is the wrong course of action"
"There we shall have to differ, if in no other respect," Elladan said, smiling fondly at his brother.
"Let us ride now, then," Elrohir said. "That is my condition. I will do as you wish if we may leave at once, brother"
"No other thought had entered my head," Elladan told him.
Legolas returned to his own chambers and there his calm departed utterly and he paced the room for a long while before throwing himself onto the bed and staring at the ceiling, trying to gather enough wits to think clearly. It was to no avail though, and he simply stared. Before he went to his father, he had been utterly sure that he would follow wherever Estel had gone and speak with him again. Even when his father had named Dol Guldur, his resolve had wavered only for a few moments. It was not until his father had told him he loved him that doubts truly entered his mind. He did love his father, and respected him too, and for a moment he wondered whether he should forfeit such love in order to pursue what might only have been a passing infatuation. Although, he was almost certain, this infatuation would not pass. Every second of his time was taken up with thoughts of Estel.
And then a thought entered his mind that drove away all doubts. If he and Estel could together go to the Lord Elrond, then he, with such clear sight into the minds of men and elves and dwarves would be able to make sure that Legolas' father knew for sure that no enchantment lay upon him. He would be able to clear Estel's name, to absolve Mercia at least somewhat of his crimes and of course, he would have to travel many days with Estel.
Now that his mind was utterly made up again, Legolas moved swiftly. He changed into the clothes of the guards, who could often be found wandering in ones and twos about the wood. Legolas had journeyed with them on several occasions and that was why he owned the clothes. The material was soft and supple, moving as the body within it moved, giving no rustle. The colours were muted and would easily fade into the background of the wood. He selected many fine arrows and slung his quiver across his back, with the bow. He also took a long knife. Over all this he cast a cloak with a wide hood. Then he sat in front of a looking glass and carefully undid the braids at the temples of his head. They were of a certain type that denoted his status as a son of the king and h knew that they would be all to obvious a sign should he be seen but not recognised immediately.
Finally he raised his hood and looking back only once, slipped from his chamber and out into the open air by the long way, going as softly as he could to avoid any questioners.
"Aragorn son of Arathorn, we shall leave you here," the leader of the elves said, his voice falling flat in the oppressive darkness of the wood. It was said that no light would ever penetrate the darkness left by the activities of Sauron. Aragorn found the place uncomfortable; his senses were heightened as would be those of an animal who finds itself in the abandoned lair of a predator, filled all through with its scent, fading but still there, still a lingering trace of evil. The elves though, were terrified, only able to move by a great mastery of their wills. They had managed it, though, and that was why Thranduil had chosen them, knowing that they would be able to quash their fears and step into the very heart of Dol Guldur, to within sight of Sauron's stronghold, the place where he had lingered, regaining his power, step by deadly step. "You have again the sword of your forefather Elendil and we shall leave you now to strike forth in any direction but North. You may have earned my respect, but you shall earn one of my arrows should you return to the Kingdom of Mirkwood"
"I shall not return," Aragorn assured them. "And again, I thank you for your courtesy in allowing me to walk unhindered." He made a half-bow to the elves and they did likewise and then melted away into the wood.
Mercia could feel the speed of the horse he was riding and he marvelled at how smooth the journey was. It was long years since he had travelled in this fashion. On either side of him rode the Sons of Elrond, taking them by swift, unknown roads that led to the house of their father. Mercia could not help but wonder what sentence Thranduil had deemed fit for Estel, and how Legolas was feeling. He hoped desperately that both of them would escape the situation unscathed, for he loved Legolas as one would love a relative, caring for him with fierce devotion. Yet also for this Aragorn, Estel, this hidden leader of men, he felt a respect and admiration that grew each time he thought of him, or when one of the twins, as they would from time to time, related some tale involving the man, usually as a young child, trying to outrun or outshoot his elven brothers.
Legolas moved swiftly south, and each time the fear grew within him, he forced it down until it was all but gone and could be disguised as wariness. He was scared, he admitted to himself. He was more than scared. He was terrified, and he felt befouled, as though some dirty murk in the air was covering him in a layer of blackness, deepening as he moved southward. So far he had met no one and only once had his will wavered completely. He had turned back, but after only a few minutes, he turned again, heading south once more.
South, towards the fortress of the greatest enemy and the prison of his greatest love.
tbc