Note: A special thanks goes to Jebb who left me two great reviews following the last two parts I posted. Thanks bunches!
Part 10
For all the beauty and brilliance of the morn by mid day a sea of ominous clouds could be seen rolling in from the north. Dark gray with rain they roiled like boiling water, threatening a great deal of rain, as well as heralding a cold wind and a thorough blotting of the sun. Under normal circumstances such weather would hardly be worth noting for a group of elves; changes in conditions, whether it be cold, heat, rain or snow affected them very rarely. However, with the current mood penetrating the party as they drew closer and closer to the village the rain, and drop in temperature, could only fray already tattered nerves and dampen already gloomy spirits.
Despite quickening their pace in the hopes of reaching shelter before the downpour the clouds overhead cooperated very little, promptly opening up a deluge of rain drenching men, dwarves, elves and horses in but a few moments. Clothes soaked through to the skin, beards dripped, horses slumped in unhappiness at the irrationality of the two legged folk who were silly enough to go traveling about in the rain, and gusts of wind blew stinging raindrops into everyone's eyes.
It was a wet and bedraggled assembly, therefore, which arrived at the small, seemingly innocent, settlement in the countryside of Ithilien. Upon second glace, however, one could make out several small campsites surrounding the town; an encircling ring of sentries with tents pitched, horses grazing free, and fires sputtering and faltering in the rain despite their keepers' best efforts at sheltering them.
A trio of forms broke away from one of the camps and rode out to meet the approaching party, their sharp elven features becoming apparent the closer they drew. Both Thranduil and Legolas, their hair darkened and dimmed by the water, nudged their mounted forward to the greet them.
"My lords," the arrivals spoke in unison, bowing their heads and touching a closed first to their breasts.
Thranduil returned the welcome with a slight tilt of his own head. "Report," he requested in Silvan; he and he alone would decide what information Faramir would be privy.
"It has been relatively quiet, Your Majesty," one of the elves replied. "We set up a perimeter around the village to prevent any of the men from fleeing, and so far none have made an attempt. The villagers have been cautious and keep to themselves mostly, and we have not been forced to implement any measures beyond a strong warning when the odd one becomes excessively hostile or belligerent."
"You have not been approached?" Thranduil asked.
"Quite the opposite, my lord, the men seem to make an effort to avoid coming near us, the streets have been virtually deserted since we settle in."
"They are most likely afraid you will suck out their life's strength," Legolas muttered casting a jaundiced eye toward the village.
All three elves as well as his father looked to him with questioning eyes. Legolas waved them off.
"Very well," Thranduil said. "Keep your posts; the likelihood of an exodus shall increase greatly now that we have arrived to settle matters. I shall deploy the rest of our people to your positions while a contingent escorts the prince, the men, the dwarves and I to their main hall."
Legolas started at this news. "Are you sure we wish to proceed within the town?" he asked uneasy. "It would be much safer to bring the people concerned here, where we are not in the midst of the entire population."
Thranduil shook his head. "Despite what many may think this shall be done properly, which means it must unfold within their place of justice. There may be citizens we will be required to call upon as well, and I do not wish to suffer through the delays it would require to go back into the town and find them. Besides it is raining."
The king turned his horse and trotted back to speak with his troops, the three elven warriors following behind, leaving Legolas perched upon Arod's back to stare off at the ominous town through the curtain of rain.
He could not tell whether it was the water in his eyes but his vision seemed to blur, each progressive breath hitching just a little bit more as his chest tightened. It almost felt as if his heart faltered, and with it his strength, for he began to sway in his seat threatening to tumble to the ground. Opening his mouth to call out to his father he found he had no voice, and a pained whimper of distress was the only sound which came forth, the wet wind easily snatching it from his throat and flinging it away.
"Elf!"
A voice to his right and a touch to his knee wrench his body back under his control as he reflexively kicked out catching something solid with his softly shod foot, sending it tumbling away from him. The clank which followed, as well as the surprised curse from a suddenly familiar voice, finally penetrated the suffocating haze which had enveloped him. Looking to his right he saw Frer sitting unsteadily upon the small borrowed mare, wide eyes staring at Legolas. Further down was Gimli, struggling to sit up from his sprawling position on the ground
"Ai, Gimli," Legolas exclaimed, sliding from Arod's back to go to his friend's side, his limbs still shaky. Kneeling by him he proffered a hand to help him sit up. "Are you well?"
Gimli swiped the hand away and sat up on his own, rubbing his jaw with one square hand.
"Fine, fine. Luckily for me elves do not tend to wear steel tipped boots as is the wont of dwarven miners. Now that is painful."
Legolas let his hands drop to the softened ground. "If you would all stop startling me this would not keep happening!" he suggested.
"You have been more easily startled of late," Gimli opined. He looked at the elf's downcast eyes and still labored breath and reached out to touch one of the hands curling into the rained soaked earth. "Are you well?"
Pulling his hand out from under the dwarf's, a fistful of mud clasp within, Legolas turned it over and watched as he rubbed the soppy soil between his pale fingers. "Yes, I think, I think it must be the damp affecting my recently healed lungs. I will be fine."
"Of course," Gimli agreed acerbically.
Catching the tone Legolas frowned, striking out with lightening quick reflexes to smear a glop of mud into the dwarf's incredulous face. Sitting back on his heels he regarded his handy work and smirked.
Before Gimli could retaliate Thranduil rode up, the perturbed frown upon his face imitating his son's previous expression quite expertly.
"What are you doing wallowing around in the mud with that dwarf, Legolas?" he asked.
"Making pies for evening meal, my lord," Legolas replied sweetly, looking up at his father, water dripping off his nose like a spout.
Thranduil wrinkled his own nose. "Enough nonsense, get on your mount that we may proceed. I want to get this over with as soon as possible."
Legolas rose to his feet. "Father, I still do not think…"
"We are going into that village, Legolas," Thranduil replied firmly. "You have nothing to fear, they can hurt you no longer. You will go there as a prince of your people and face them without cringing like a beaten dog."
Legolas stiffened. "Yes, my lord," he replied staunchly.
Thranduil smiled down at him. "That is my leaf, buffeted but never broken." He nudged his horse forward. "Come."
Helping Gimli to his feet Legolas boosted the dwarf back into position in front of Frer, turning to Arod once the task was accomplished.
"He knows you quite well," Faramir noised as he slowly passed by.
"What faithful father does not?" Legolas asked as he vaulted onto Arod's back.
"Tue enough, but how many use that knowledge with such ruthlessness?" Gimli asked conversationally.
"I will thank him in the end," Legolas reasoned.
"If you are certain."
Saying no more Legolas barked a command to Arod, spurring the horse into a canter, and made after his father; Gimli and Faramir shared a glance before they too moved on at a statelier pace.
The rain slackened into a drizzle by the time they entered the borders of the village and the assemblage stopped to quickly change into dry clothing and new cloaks. Hair was brushed and rearranged, mud washed away. They would be nothing but impeccable when they faced the perpetrators.
As reported the streets were almost completely deserted, the people opting to stay inside their homes for the duration of the town's occupation. The occasional old man hobbled down the street or a woman ventured outside to collect water from the overflowing rain barrels. When they came across such individuals they would stop and stare as they passed, usually ducking into doorways or between buildings to make themselves as unobtrusive as possible.
All the same Legolas could feel their eyes finding and following him, his skin crawling with the sensation. It took every ounce of his considerable will not to turn Arod around and gallop back out into the open fields. Only fear of his father's disappointment stayed him; that and his vow to see these people made accountable for what they had done.
The lightheadedness he experienced earlier was returning with each of Arod's hoof falls, the animal's gate heavy as he sunk deep into the mud paved streets. When they finally emerged into the center square his pulse was pounding in his temples, every ounce of his blood ready to explode from his body once he set eyes upon the stake driven into the ground.
Mercifully the only thing which burst from his chest was a pent up breath. The post was still present, standing there with drops of water rolling down its rough surface as if it were weeping, a half dozen elven arrows protruding from its length. Vanquished.
"I see some of the troops were kind enough to demonstrate to these people the skill of elven archery," Thranduil commented.
"We needed a target for practice, my lord," one elf replied. "It was…convenient."
Thranduil nodded in satisfaction and cast a glace over his shoulder to Legolas who gazed back stoically. He turned back around as the sound of the hall's large wooden doors creaking open echoed through the rain muffled stillness. A broad elf with cinnamon tresses exited, picking his way through the mud and puddles to Thranduil's side.
"You brought him?" Thranduil asked.
"Yes, my lord, he is here," the elf replied quietly. "Not without a great deal of grumbling mind you."
"One would think they would be far less cantankerous with a bevy of elves prowling about their lands," Lenwe commented from his position beside Legolas.
"False bravado is the preference of cowardly, desperate men," Thranduil mused. "Is that not right, Lord Faramir," he called over to Ithilien's prince.
"I would not know," Faramir replied. "I have known few in my lifetime."
"Yet you lord over a land which has a town full of them," Thranduil pondered. "Come let us get inside and out of this foul weather," he continued as if the exchange had not happened at all.
Dismounting, Thranduil, Legolas, Lenwe, the two darves, Faramir, the magistrate and the cinnamon haired elf made their way inside while the remaining elves tended to the horses and kept watch outside the hall. Once inside they found the town's justice sitting sulkily at his table, two more elves standing on either side of him. As they entered the justice leapt to his feet.
"Lord Faramir I demand to know what's going on!" he seethed. "These elves have been harassing us for days now, allowing none to leave the town. Just now they dragged me from my house into the rain with no explanation what so ever."
"You have no one but yourselves to blame!" Faramir spat. "I have been trying my best to manage matters but surely you realized your actions towards an elven prince could not go unnoticed or ignored."
"And surely his actions towards a member of this community could not go unnoticed or ignored!" the justice shot back.
"Imprisonment, public humiliation and live burial without a proper hearing, as well as lying to authorities, does not seem like an appropriate response to an unsubstantiated claim of some vague crime," Faramir pointed out. "You have put both the king, when he finds out, and I into an almost impossible situation."
"You have been told before, this is none of your or Elessar's concern. This town belongs to us and therefore we manage our own affairs."
"Well then," a new voice purred. All eyes turned toward Thranduil who stepped forward, pulling back the hood of his cloak. "Given that, at the moment, this town belongs to the elves, we shall manage matters as we see fit."
"Who do you think you are to…" the justice stormed forward but was quickly restrained by the elves at his side, each grasping him by the shoulder to yank him back into place.
"I," Thranduil stated anger mounting, "I am a king born of an eternal people who will walk under trees long after the citadel of Gondor crumbles to dust. I am the being who holds your contemptible little village in the palm of his hand. And most importantly I am his father," he pointed over to a subdued Legolas.
The justice followed the finger and flinched imperceptibly when he met Legolas' weary face.
"Listen to me and listen well," Thranduil continued. "You will escort these fine elves," he indicated the justice's two companions, "to fetch anyone of importance for these proceedings. You will return here where we shall hear evidence with regards to the girl's claims and to my son's ordeal. To ease tensions I have decided to allow Lord Faramir's magistrate lead in the questioning. Once all have had their say, however, I and I alone will decide the fates of those involved. Have I made myself clear?"
The dumbfounded magistrate nodded. Thranduil then looked over to Faramir and he too acknowledged the king's declaration, only too happy to have his own man involved in the process. It was a small concession, but it was a step in the right direction.
Seemingly satisfied Thranduil motioned for the elves to escort the justice out, but before they were half way across the room a commotion could be heard from outside. When it did not cease they quizzically moved to the doors to peer out.
A man was standing in the square, a heavy burden clasped in his arms, a small group of people following behind him. He was shouting at the assembled elves, while in response murmured Sindarin expletives were beginning to emerge, many bows already having been drawn. Taking in the scene Thranduil stepped out.
"What is the meaning of this?"
"Murderers!" the man cried brandishing the form in his arms.
With a second look it soon became evident what it was. A body.
"You have invaded our home and now you have murdered him!"
Less audible exclamations were rumbling from the emerging crowd of men but it was the body which held most everyone's attention. There protruding from the dead man's chest was a single elven arrow.
