The Elves of Eryn Lasgalen
They came at last to the Road running west from Mirkwood. The place where it crossed the river was marked on Arwen's map as the Old Ford, but in fact there was a new stone bridge, and the Road itself was paved and in good repair. There was no one in sight but after a cursory look around, Canohando drew Malawen back and looked about for a tree to hang their hammocks.
"We will watch for a day or two and see who uses this fine bridge."
"Are you afraid?" she asked in surprise. "Surely Orcs will not have built it, and you have the Queen's letter—"
"We have Elladan's safe-conduct as well, but it is wisdom to be cautious. Who do you think holds sway in these lands, now that the King's son rules in Gondor? The Queen's brothers are gone, who kept Rivendell, but someone must be master here in the North."
Malawen looked puzzled. "The North Kingdom is still under the King's word."
"So it should be, but we are a long way from Minas Tirith. If Eldarion's lieutenants are faithful… but not all men are faithful. So we will wait and watch a little."
"You are as cautious as Celeborn himself," she said. "I think you must be fated to rule a kingdom."
Canohando snorted. "If my fate bring us safe to Rivendell, and me to the Shire after, I will be content. Who is Celeborn?"
She stared at him. "Why, he is Galadriel's consort, who ruled Lothlorien with her. And he was Undomiel's grandsire besides - how can it be you have not heard of him?"
"How should I know the family history of the Queen, little one? I am an Orc; I know warfare and the hunt. And I know the stories the old man told us, and the ones you tell. No more than that."
But her thought had gone back to what he said before. "What do you mean, us to Rivendell and you to the Shire? I want to go with you, Canohando."
"Here is your hammock, Elfling; climb in and rest. I will hang mine close by, and you shall tell me of this Celeborn."
But when he lay down and looked over at her, Malawen did not return his smile. "Canohando, I want to go with you to the Shire," she said.
"Elfling..." He hesitated. "I bring you to Rivendell so that you may find some of your own people, to travel with you to Valinor. It is your birthright. You must not throw it away."
She sat up suddenly, rocking her hammock. "Hear me, Orc, and hear me well! I am not going to Valinor." Her voice shook with passion. "For good or for ill, I will stay in Middle-earth, and if you do not want me with you, I will remain alone." She was like some wild thing at bay, but then her eyes filled and she huddled down with her hands over her face.
"Little one –" He picked his way along the bough to stand next to her, stroking her tangled hair. "No, Elfling, don't cry! I will not let you stay alone; I will bring you with me if you really will not sail with your people. But I think you should go."
She shook her head, her face hidden, and he bent over to put an arm around her shoulders, balancing precariously and holding with one hand to the branch above him. "Don't cry," he said again, "I will not leave you. You shall journey with me for as long as you wish, until you say, 'Be off with you, Greyskin; I am weary of telling you stories!'"
"I will never say that." She peeked up, smiling through her tears.
They watched the road for three days, and in all that time they saw no one. At last Canohando was satisfied; on the fourth morning he rolled up their hammocks and lowered himself to the ground, and all but stepped on an Elf who was sitting at the foot of the tree.
He threw himself to one side, braced for an attack but not drawing weapon, watching the other's eyes. The Elf leaped up and whipped out a pair of slender knives from a double sheath that hung behind his shoulders. Canohando stepped back a pace, holding his empty hands before him.
"I am not an enemy, First-born, only a traveler through this land."
"He speaks truth," Malawen said loudly, dropping to the ground and running to plant herself in front of Canohando. "Put away your knives, kinsman. This is Canohando, the Queen's Shadow."
"What Queen?" The Elf regarded her without friendliness. "Who are you, changeling, that you keep such company as this?"
"Show him the letter," Malawen muttered, but Canohando did not take his eyes from the Elf.
"This is a scout, I think, for a party that will be coming after. Who is your master, First-born?"
"A good conjecture, Orc. My name is Galuir and my Captain is Itaril of Eryn Lasgalen. He it is who shall judge what to do with you. Ahead of me now, to the Road."
Canohando's bow appeared suddenly in his hand. "We are not your prisoners, friend, and no one need decide what to do with us." His arrow was aimed at the scout's heart, and Malawen gasped. "Don't be afraid Elfling; I shall not –"
"No! Look!" she exclaimed.
They were trapped. A party of Elves had stepped out suddenly from the surrounding woods, their bows drawn. "Put down your weapon, Orc, or we will make an end of both of you," said the one they had taken for a scout.
Canohando dropped his bow on the ground. "What manner of Elves are you, that you threaten one of your own?" He nodded at Malawen.
The Elf veiled his eyes. "Our own do not consort with Orcs," he said. He jerked his head at them, and one of the archers put down his bow and came forward.
"Stand aside from him," he said to Malawen, but she turned and threw her arms around Canohando's waist.
"You shall not harm him! He is the Queen's Orc, Arwen Undomiel! He guarded her, he brought her to Lothlorien; she showed him favor. You must see—"
"I see a Dark Elf who has turned to the Shadow," said the leader grimly. He stared at Canohando under lowered brows. "Put her away from you, or I will have the two of you on one arrow."
Canohando leaned over Malawen, kissing her forehead. "He will do it, Elfling." He reached up surreptitiously and yanked the chain at his neck so it broke, palming the Jewel and pressing it into her hand. "Keep this for me, and stand back," he murmured. He pushed her away and stood straight, waiting.
"Bind them," said the leader. "Celeborn must question them; it is an evil omen, if Elves are aligning themselves with creatures of Darkness here on our very doorstep." And Malawen had just time to slide the Jewel stealthily into her pocket while Canohando's hands were tied, before her own wrists were pulled behind her and bound.
The Elves threaded lengths of rope through their bonds by which to lead them, and to the Orc they assigned two guards, one on each side; plainly they feared his escape. Canohando concealed his amusement at this; he could have broken away easily, but he would not abandon Malawen.
And as he considered the leader's words naming her a Dark Elf, he began to be afraid. What might the Elves do to one of their own who turned to Shadow? And he is not so far wrong, this Galuir. She has not yielded to it, but Darkness overhangs her. If her own people misuse her…
When they reached the Road they found horses waiting, and upwards of forty Elves. Galuir went ahead, motioning their guards to stand, and after a few moments he returned with another Elf, tall and lordly in bearing, with a great white bow strapped to his back.
"I found them by chance; the Orc came down from a tree practically in my lap, and the girl followed after."
The captain barely glanced at Canohando, but he looked Malawen over from head to foot, staring down at her as if she had been a dirty child caught robbing a street vendor. At last he stretched out his hand and took hold of her chin, turning her scarred cheek to the light. She jerked away, flushing with shame and anger, and he frowned.
"What have you to say for yourself, brat? You keep unwholesome company, and it would seem you have reason to know it, by that scar. What is your name?"
She lifted her head, glaring. "I am Malawen, Essiel's daughter, of Lothlorien. And this is—"
He broke in on her. "I asked for your name, changeling, not that of your companion. He is an Orc; that is all I need to know. But I wonder what you are doing here, both of you, on the edge of Eryn Lasgalen, and chiefly I would know why an Elf child is to be found in a tree with one of the Enemy's servants."
"He is not the Enemy's servant!" she protested. "He was Undomiel's bodyguard, until she died –"
"Arwen Undomiel is dead?" the Elf interrupted, and she nodded.
His face had been hard before, but now it was dark with suspicion. "And you and this devil are scouting along our borders – and plainly you have had dealings with Orcs before, for your face is long healed –" He turned to where Galuir stood listening. "You are right; we should bring them to Celeborn. And we had better be getting on, if we are to make any distance this day." He turned away, leaving it to Galuir to make such arrangements as were needed.
Malawen was boosted up none too gently on a horse behind the Elf who had led her out of the woods.
"How can I hold on, with my hands bound behind me?" she demanded. There was fury in her voice, not fear, and her eyes blazed. "Will you have me fall and be trampled? You are as bad as the Orcs who raided Lorien during the War!"
"Spoken like one who knows them well," said her guard with heavy irony. He turned swiftly and bound a scarf over her mouth in spite of her struggles.
"Your Celeborn will not question her if she is dead," said a cold voice. "Tie her hands in front, around your waist."
The rider looked down with surprise into the Orc's face; Canohando had maneuvered himself next to Malawen in spite of his captors' efforts to hold him back. After a moment the Elf said,
"He is right. Someone come and help me with her; I cannot manage alone."
None of the Elves was willing to ride with the Orc behind. Canohando stood quiet as they argued it back and forth, but when they decided finally that he must run alongside with his rope tethered to a horse's harness, he winked at Malawen. Her face, what he could see of it behind the gag, was pale and set, but he thought she smiled at him.
It was an easy march by Orkish standards, although Canohando's bare feet suffered from pounding on the stone pavement. His boots had been in his pack with their hammocks, left behind under the tree. As he ran, his memory went back to the journey from Minas Tirith, when he had kept pace beside the Queen's horse, and he yearned for his Lady. She would have known what to say to these iron-faced Elves, to make them understand; she would have made them treat the Elf-girl kindly.
He wondered if he should have shown Arwen's letter as proof of his trustworthiness. It had happened so fast – and how was it that he had not noticed the Elf at the foot of the tree, to say nothing of the crowd of them in the woods around? Bitterly he condemned himself for not keeping better watch. All I thought of was my Elfling, how bright and glowing she is, how glad I am when she is by me. What will they do with her, when this Celeborn has done with his questioning? They will slay me and I will not be there to protect her…
You fool, Ghul-rakk!
He wrenched his mind away from recriminations. Time now to gather what information he could and make some plan. He had failed to protect his Elfling, but he might still rescue her.
He strained to hear every word the Elves spoke, but it did him no good. There was little conversation, and it was all in the Elven tongue. He caught the name of Celeborn and some reference to Orcs, but that was all.
They stopped at sundown and made camp, closed pavilions of some fabric that reflected back the rose and gold of the sky and dimmed to a silver glimmer as the light faded. Like spiderwebs on the grass, when the dew is on them, Canohando mused. He looked again at the Elves who would rest in such houses. They were fair of face and form, their hair flowing over their shoulders and all their movements graceful as a dance, but their eyes were like glass, cool and impenetrable.
They had tied him hand and foot to a tree, and Malawen sat on the ground not far away, her wrists and ankles bound, but not tethered to anything. No one seemed to be watching them, and little by little she wriggled closer until she was leaning against Canohando's legs. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading above the scarf that still covered her mouth.
"Do not lose heart, Elfling," he said softly. "Do you know where they are taking us?"
She nodded and fought to loosen her gag, rubbing it against his knee. "No, wait," he said. "They will not starve you; they will have to take that off to let you eat. Be silent then, little one, so they forget to put it back on!" He smiled down on her. "We must be thinking of our escape, and better if you can speak to me." But she regarded him bleakly and slumped against him with her head down.
As he had expected, someone came at last with food. It was the Elf who had ridden beside him, carrying bread and a wineskin. He sneered when he saw Malawen. "Have you cast a spell on this child, Greyskin, that she cleave so to you?" he said. "Was it you left that pretty mark on her face?" He nudged her with one slender foot. "Get up, gnome; you can hold the loaf for this brute to gnaw on, and feed yourself as well."
"Her scar is not my doing." If Canohando had been free he would have strangled the fellow on the spot. "I would do nothing to hurt her. Can you say the same of her own people?"
Malawen struggled to stand up, nearly pitching forward onto the ground, and the Elf caught her under the arm and steadied her before he removed the gag. She took the loaf awkwardly in her bound hands and held it for Canohando before she bit off some for herself. Their guard stood watching, and when they had made a good start on the bread he untied the wineskin and himself held it for them to drink, Malawen first.
"Who is this Orc?" he asked abruptly. "Does he have a name?"
"I am Canohando of Mordor, the Queen's Shadow."
The Elf arched his brows. "That is Quenya, surely? Who gave you such a name, Greyskin, and what queen do you shadow?"
Canohando took a pull at the wineskin, wondering how much he should say. "The Brown One named me. A man of power who traveled with the Ringbearer." He noticed the Elf's look of incomprehension and added, "Ninefingers called him Radagast."
"Radagast!" Their guard laughed without mirth. "You had better not say that to Itaril. The Wizard of Rhosgobel is not in favor in Eryn Lasgalen these days. No powerful lord relishes being told that he must choose between exile and dwindling to insignificance, yet that was the choice your Brown One put to King Thranduil a year ago. It is the Age of Men, so he said."
"So said the Lady also, when her son took the throne of Gondor. So you come from Eryn Lasgalen and you journey to Valinor, you and your lord?"
The Elf's face closed and he began tying up the wineskin again. When he was done he set it on the ground and stood with folded arms, wary and suspicious. "What does an Orc know of Valinor?" he asked, and Malawen quailed at his tone. A moment before he had sounded almost friendly, but not now. You should not have named the Blessed Realm, she thought in despair, but Canohando seemed unaware of danger.
"I know the Queen gave up her place there for the King, but her brothers will make the voyage, or so I hope. I carry a safe-conduct Prince Elladan gave me."
"Do you indeed," the Elf said. "Galuir will want a look at that." He left them then, and as soon as he was out of earshot, Canohando muttered,
"Quickly, Elfling; they will come back to search me. It was a gamble that they will honor Elladan's letter, but it may not pay out. Take the Queen's map out of my pouch and hide it with the Jewel."
She did so, fumbling in her haste; it was difficult with her wrists tied.
"Now get away from me, lest they think to search you as well. And Elfling –" He paused, waiting for her to look at him. "Don't think I have abandoned you, if I escape. I will be near-by."
"No, Canohando, don't! They will kill you if they catch you a second time – now they are taking us to Rivendell, to Celeborn. They will bring us safe to him at least."
"And afterward? Will Celeborn free us, do you think?"
She shook her head. "He is the Queen's grandsire; you might think he would favor you for her sake. But his daughter was tortured by Orcs so terribly that she fled over the Sea – and if he believes as these do, that I am traitor..." She shrugged hopelessly.
"Better if we do not come before him, then," said Canohando. "Now get away before that fellow comes back for Elladan's letter."
She leaned against him for a moment, her head against his heart, and then she dropped to the ground and crawled awkwardly away.
Itaril himself came to search Canohando.
"What acquaintance do you have with Elrond's son, Greyskin?" he demanded. But his lip curled in scorn when Canohando described how he and Elladan had shared command of the Queen's Company, for the protection of Arwen Undomiel.
"Men! Arrogant and easily deceived. The First-born are not so quickly taken in."
"It was the Elf-Queen who befriended me first, before the King did," said Canohando.
"The Queen of Gondor, you had better say, who was half-Elven only, like her father. And Elrond had wisdom to choose the better part and side with the Eldar. His daughter let herself be swept away by passion for a mortal man, and so she is undone. Even such wisdom as she had failed her at the last, that she gave credence to an imp of Darkness."
Blind fury surged through Canohando, so that he was grateful for the ropes that held him secure against the tree. If he had been unfettered, of a certainty he would have slain the Elf-captain where he stood. That such a one should dare malign the Lady, fair as she was and wise beyond all telling! The grief he had been holding at bay since Arwen's burial backed into his throat, choking him, and it was a moment before he could speak.
"The Darkness runs behind me, but I flee," he growled at last. "Are you sure that it does not follow behind you as well? But you are too proud to run from it."
Itaril stepped forward and landed a heavy blow across the Orc's face, snapping his head around and raising a purple weal along his cheekbone. "Be silent, devil! Erenu, Galuir, strip him down to his filthy skin: let us see what secrets he carries. We should have done that first of all."
They found the ranger's cloak-pin and the safe-conduct Elladan had given him, and Itaril held them out between the tips of his fingers as if they stank.
"So you are a ranger now, are you? And why not, they were ever a ragtag lot. Very well, Ranger Orc, you may keep your pin." He thrust it through Canohando's tunic and threw it back at him, with his breeches. "Cover yourself, that we need not look on your ugly hide. But the authority of the son of Elrond, no. That I will not return to you, lest you escape and use it to deceive someone of less judgment than Itaril of Eryn Lasgalen." He ripped the safe-conduct in halves and quarters, over and over until nothing was left but fragments of white, and these he cast from him so they fluttered away, settling to the ground like snow.
"Bind him again," he commanded. "And keep that girl away from him. If his tale be true, he beguiled the very Queen of Gondor, who had a name for wisdom once on a time. How much more easily will he lure this ill-favored changeling. The mark of the Enemy is branded already on her cheek."
Canohando said nothing as they tied him once more to the tree.
For two or three days after that he did not see Malawen, although he heard her sometimes, raging and pleading by turns to be allowed to come to him. It was agony to hear her distress and be powerless to help, and he tried to close his ears to her voice, to think of his own difficulties. His feet burned like fire and now his hands pained him as well, swollen from being bound behind him day and night. Thirst was a continual torment. Erenu made sure to feed him, but he lacked patience to hold the wineskin long enough for Canohando to drink his fill. It was not wine anyway, but water that the Orc craved, and he imagined it as he ran beside the horses: a wide stream sparkling in the sunshine, deep and cold and winding away to the horizon. He saw himself wading in up to his waist, ducking his head to take long gulps, hardly coming up for air. I would drink it dry, he thought longingly.
He had thought it would be easy to escape, but he found that it was not. By day he was flanked on all sides by Elves who would be prompt to put an arrow in his back if he tried to break away. At night he was trussed against a tree, hardly able to do more than wiggle his fingers, trying to bring the circulation back into his hands.
The discomfort and his worry for Malawen kept him awake, and the dark was like a wolf prowling around him, seeking an opening to bring him down. From his childhood Elves had been his deadly foes, until Ninefingers gave him Arwen's jewel, and its healing influence touched him to wonder and reverence. He had gone in search of his Queen and worshipped her, and he treasured his Elfling as his own life. But his captors were Elves as well, arrogant and unheeding. The dark hours crept by, and he fought against the images that crowded his mind, what he would do to Itaril, to all of them, if he were free.
One morning as they started out there was a scuffle a little to the rear, and Malawen's voice rang above the rest, shrill with panic. "No! Let go of me – I will go to him, you cannot stop me –!" There was a noise like a whip crack and she screamed, and Canohando turned and began pushing his way toward her. Erenu shouted and jerked on the rope to restrain him, but for a moment it seemed the Orc would drag horse and all in his wake until he reached her. Then the horse planted its feet and backed, and Canohando was forced to a halt.
"Who is the Orc here?" he bellowed. "She is one of your own, and will you torment her yourselves like imps of the Black Pit? The Valar avenge her, if you harm that child!"
There was a sudden, dreadful hush. Then Itaril appeared, and the Elves on their horses crowded aside to make way for him.
"You curse us by the Valar, do you? By what right do you name them, devil?"
A moment more and I will go down in a hail of arrows, Canohando thought. But first I will be heard.
"By the right of the First-Born," he said aloud. "My ancestors were Elves as well as yours, under the stars of Cuiviénen. They fell into slavery and darkness, but it was not of their choosing. What you do to that girl you do of your own will, so be warned, Itaril of Eryn Lasgalen: even you may fall!"
Itaril stared at him without answer, and Canohando shifted his feet to stand more firm, squaring his shoulders. The moment stretched out toward infinity, and when it seemed that something, anything, must happen to break the tension, something did.
There was a confusion of shouts and cries, horses milling together, and then one horse broke out of the melee, running as if the very wolves of Morgoth gave pursuit, away into the west. And pressed against its back, clinging to the mane, was Malawen, her pale hair streaming out behind her like the tail of a comet.
Canohando gazed after her in wonder and relief, joy leaping in him like a fountain. She is free; she is safe! He hardly heard Itaril's next words.
"So she got away. Would you say I am out of danger now, demon? I will not fall into darkness by treating you as you deserve. The Valar will take no vengeance on your account."
The Elves around them looked at one another nervously, their horses plunging and sidestepping as if they sensed their riders' disquiet.
"The Holy Ones send that there is no need for vengeance," said Galuir. "Do you wish someone to go after her, Itaril, or shall we take the Orc alone to Celeborn?"
"What use in that?" Itaril asked. "Celeborn will not thank us for the gift of an Orc, and without the girl we cannot prove collusion. Neither do I wish to take time to track her down and recapture her. Slay him and be done; he is of no use to us."
Galuir looked from Canohando to Erenu, still holding his tether. "Has he offered you violence, Erenu? Has he been abusive, after the manner of Orcs, or attempted escape?"
"No. Today he tried to go to the girl's aid when she screamed. Apart from that he has given no trouble, nor even complained, although his wrists have rope-burns and his feet bleed from running on the stones."
"What matters that?" Itaril broke in. "He is an Orc, a creature of the Enemy. How have we ever dealt with Orcs, except to slay them?"
Galuir looked down at his hands, pulling thoughtfully on his fingers. "You are my Captain, Itaril, yet that is for this mission only. At Thranduil's court we rank as equals, and so I will speak my mind in this.
"If we had slain him on sight, it had been justified: he is an Orc, as you say, and an enemy. But we made him captive, and so learned that he is in high favor with the great ones of Gondor, albeit the reason for that is unclear. That child who fled from us looks to him as a protector. And who ever heard of an Orc who calls on the Holy Ones for justice? Something here I do not understand, and until we know more I say we must not slay him. The Valar themselves may have an eye on him."
"You have a rich imagination, kinsman," Itaril said with a sneer. "Yet if it ease your mind and satisfy this company, we will bring him to Rivendell. I doubt Celeborn will be pleased to see him."
He kicked his horse, urging him to the front of the column, and Erenu tugged on Canohando's rope to bring him alongside. The rest of the Elves straggled into their places and they started out, Itaril and Galuir in the fore. Galuir leaned slightly toward his Captain, as if he spoke, but Itaril sat stiff and straight, watching the road ahead.
That night Erenu made the Orc sit down on the ground before he lashed him to the tree. "Ease your feet a little, Greyskin. I like it in you, that you tried to help the girl, and I am not sorry that she got away."
"Why is Itaril so set against her?" Canohando asked. "I had thought her people would show compassion for her, wounded as she is."
Erenu shrugged. "He had a sister once, I heard. When evil first started coming into Greenwood, brother and sister were among a group making merry under the stars, and Orcs fell upon them – they found her later, with many others..." His voice trailed off. "I do not know. Like you, I would expect him to show pity, and all the more so for his sister's sake. But Elves do not love ugliness of mind or body, and she is deformed in both."
Canohando thought of Malawen, her bright face and the ever-changing colors of her eyes. He is trying to be kind, he thought, but he is hard as adamant, and blind with pride.
Erenu looked at the Orc oddly when he did not answer, and then he walked away. But Canohando writhed against the tree, trying to find a position that didn't hurt, holding Arwen and Itaril side by side in his mind. Both had suffered, but Arwen had been made more gentle by it, and Itaril – but perhaps Itaril had always been hard.
And what about you, Queen's Orc? More gentle, or more hard? He shut his eyes, trying to see the Lady's face again, and the King's. He was a strong leader, but he was not pitiless. And my runt was no weakling.
In the deep night, when the camp lay sleeping, something touched his face and woke him. He opened his eyes a slit, trying to see what it was, and then wide open, in glad astonishment, to find Malawen on her knees beside him.
"Hush, I'll get you free," she whispered, and crept around behind the tree. He felt a tugging on the ropes that held him, as she tried to cut them with her knife. She seemed to be having trouble; he was securely bound, it might have been twenty turns of rope around the tree and each one knotted separately, so every individual cord had to be cut in order to free him. Malawen sawed at them doggedly for a long while and then she gave a gasp.
"What is it, Elfling?" He twisted, trying to see behind him to where she was, but he was still held tight.
"Nothing; I cut myself a little. Elbereth, but it's bleeding! Wait, I'll have to tie it up before I can do this…"
There was a sudden shout from where the horses were picketed, and a torch lit the darkness in that direction. Malawen scurried around the tree to Canohando, sucking on her wounded hand. "Name of light! They've found my horse – how will we get away now?"
"Get out of sight, Elfling; they'll be here next. They know you'll come to me." Canohando strained to see her face in the dark. "You should have stayed away; you were safe –"
"I don't feel safe when you're not with me." She put her hands on his shoulders for an instant, planting a kiss on his forehead. "Wait till it quiets down, and I'll come back. I'll get you loose." Then she was gone, and he heard the leaves rustling above him as she took refuge in the tree.
He had just time enough to wonder if they were coming, before they were there, a dozen torches and Itaril and Galuir in front. No one spoke to him, but they examined his ropes and pulled on them, finding many that had been cut through and Malawen's knife where she had dropped it when she gashed her hand.
"So, he makes no attempt to escape?" Itaril's voice was triumphant. "Lucky that the horses whickered greeting to the one she stole, else she would have had him clean away, and both of them up to whatever devilry they were bent on when we captured them."
"You do not know that it was devilry," said Galuir.
"Nor do you know that it was not. The girl is gone again, but we have the Orc – for the moment. We may not have him long, however, if she keep coming back to rescue him. Slay him now and be done with it."
"No!" Malawen shrieked from the branches above them. An arrow tore through the leaves and stuck in the ground at Itaril's feet. "Let him go, or the next one will pierce your heart!"
There was a roar of outrage from the gathered Elves, and several of them caught up their bows and fired into the branches. A wild laugh answered them from above. "You cannot see me, but I can see you!" Malawen taunted. A second arrow struck into the earth in front of Itaril.
"Elfling, stop!" Canohando's voice slashed through the uproar, and silence fell like a blanket. He met Itaril's eyes, holding him by sheer force of will.
"The Queen of Gondor ordered me to Rivendell, and there we were journeying when you made us captive. I still would go there at her command, and to that very place you wish to take us. Let the little one walk unbound beside me, for she beats against fetters like a wild bird. I will be hostage for her good behavior, and we will abide whatever fate your Celeborn decrees for us."
Itaril regarded him sourly. "You do not ask to walk free yourself," he observed.
"You would not grant that, if I did ask. I can endure the bonds."
The Elf-captain's eyes bored into him, but Canohando did not look away. At length Itaril said, "So be it. If she come down and surrender her weapons and give her oath not to run away, she may walk unbound. But I hold you to your word, Greyskin. If she escape again, I will have your blood."
Canohando inclined his head, a commander accepting terms of truce.
"Are you listening, Elfling?" he called. "Will you come down and be surety for me?"
Malawen's voice was like shattering ice. "You must swear to let me stay with him, Itaril of Eryn Lasgalen. By Elbereth you must swear it."
The anger that seemed never far from Itaril blazed in his eyes, but Erenu said quietly, "It will be less troublesome guarding them if they are together, and I think she will stay by the Orc."
"Celeborn should question them, Itaril. There is something here that bears looking into," Galuir added.
Itaril made a wry face. "You may be right. We have delayed too long already, dealing with them. I wish to reach the Havens before the end of summer, and I will be glad to hand these two over to Celeborn. Very well," he shouted up at Malawen. "By Elbereth I swear, you shall stay with the greyskin, and may you live to rue your allegiance to him! Now come down and let us get some rest before the night is spent."
But when she climbed down and handed over her bow, she gave him a look of pure hatred. And he on his part kept his word and did not order her bound, yet he set three Elves to guard her and Canohando the rest of the night, and every night thereafter.
But in truth it was doubtful if they even noticed the guards. Malawen huddled close to the Orc, spreading her cloak over both of them as far as it would reach, and as the torches were doused and the camp quieted, they fell asleep leaning one against the other, well content only to be together.
note: Eryn Lasgalen was the name given to Mirkwood after the War of the Ring. As far as I can determine, Thranduil was the lord of this expanded realm, but many Elves of Lothlorien settled here as well. Apparently there were Elves living here for many years after Galadriel and Celeborn had left Lothlorien.