Chapter 20: Evil Draws Near
For several hours, Legolas and his friends rode south determined to make the best of their situation. In a few days they would be parted, but for now they would tell merry tales and sing songs that were more bawdy than not. Several times Erestor opened his mouth to protest, but Elrond silenced him each time.
"Let them have their fun, Erestor."
"But Estel is in their company," objected the tutor. "Several of their songs are not fit for his young ears."
"I suspect," said Elrond, "that Halbarad will soon be collecting Estel from time to time for the purpose of introducing the young one to the ways of the Rangers. The Dúnadain go amongst Men whom they call 'rough customers', so the occasional bawdy song will be in keeping with the company with which Estel will have to keep from time to time. It would not do for Estel to develop tastes that are too finicky."
Erestor snorted.
"Small danger of that!" He made no effort to disguise his ill opinion of the training proposed for young Estel. Glorfindel, however, nodded approvingly.
"Yes, we wouldn't want the lad to grow up too squeamish. He'll sometimes need to be a 'rough customer' himself to pass safely amongst some of the unsavory characters he will be forced to contend with."
After awhile, however, even Erestor should have been pleased with the somber air that descended upon the company. The further they rode, the quieter Legolas became, until at last all became concerned. Elrond urged his horse forward and rode alongside the young Elf.
"Legolas, you are very quiet. Are you well?"
"I—yes—I—Elrond, something is wrong."
"Wrong? How do you mean?"
"Something draws near. Something evil."
"Here? When we are still so close to the Great Hall?"
"Yes," save Legolas softly. "So close to the Great Hall."
"Is it an Orc that you sense? Or mayhap a spider?"
Feeling puzzled, Legolas shook his head.
"It is neither Orc nor spider nor warg. I cannot make it out. It is evil—but a sort of evil I have never encountered before."
"I wonder how something evil could have crept so close to the Hall without being perceived," mused Elrond. He shook the thought off, however. For now the immediate problem was safeguarding the company. He rode back to speak quietly with Glorfindel and Gilglîr.
"Legolas senses danger," he said.
"If Legolas senses danger," observed Glorfindel, "it is wise to be prepared."
Gilglîr agreed. Although he did not yet know Legolas as well as Glorfindel and the other Imladris Elves did, the Seneschal had seen enough to convince himself that the Prince was gifted even more than most Elves at sensing the approach of dark forces. "We are too easy a target," he said, "clustered together as we are and mounted high upon our horses. We must dismount and spread out, taking care to keep to the cover of the trees."
Glorfindel quietly gave the order to the Imladris Elves, and Gilglîr likewise alerted the Mirkwood Elves. All dismounted, Erestor as usual taking care to position himself next to Estel.
They had scarcely taken this defensive maneuver when they heard the sound of an arrow being released, followed by another and another. Soon the air was filled with missiles flying back and forth, the Imladris and Mirkwood Elves aiming toward where they estimated their assailants to be by the trajectory of the incoming missiles. Strangely, no sounds were heard other than of shafts flying and striking trees and bushes and flesh. Nor was there any sight of their foes.
"Why are they not charging?" wondered Glorfindel. This was very un-Orcish behavior. Usually Orcs lacked the discipline to maintain cover. After shooting off a few volleys, they would charge into the open, where they could be easily cut down. Orcs were so stupid, they generally only won battles when their forces were so superior that they overwhelmed the opposition. Unfortunately, Orcs bred like cockroaches, which accounted for their increasing successes. Yet today the hidden enemy was not heedlessly charging into a rain of elven arrows in an attempt to swamp the Elves with bodies both dead and alive.
After the exchange of arrows had gone on for some time, Elrond silently signaled to Glorfindel, and the balrog-slayer, as well as Elrohir, Elladan, and some others of the Rivendell Elves, melted away into the woods and outflanked their foes, thus coming up behind the line of trees from which their enemies were shooting. At a signal from Glorfindel, the Imladris Elves released a withering fire into the unseen ranks of their opponents. Now at last they did hear cries, but the shrieks did not sound very Orc-like. Indeed, had it not been impossible, Elrond and the others would have sworn that the cries were those of Elves. But, no, that could not be. It was daylight and sunny; no Elf could have mistaken them for foes and launched such an attack.
Trapped between two lines of fierce and deadly elven archers, their enemies at last were quelled. Fewer and fewer arrows were launched at the company, and at last the bows fell silent altogether. All that could be heard were moans from the unseen injured—moans that, again, did not sound at all Orc-like. Elrond and Gilglîr ordered their respective forces to cautiously search the area to put the wounded out of their misery and to gather up the bodies of the dead for burning.
Elrohir was the first to come upon a felled assailant, an injured one. But he did not slay him. Instead, horrified, he called for Elrond. The wounded foe was an Elf. True, his behavior was very un-Elflike, for he tried repeatedly and futilely to strike at Elrohir with a knife. Yet in appearance there could be no doubt—this was an Elf who had been firing upon them, trying, albeit in vain, to kill them. Appalled, Elrohir and the others resumed the search for the wounded and the dead. The arrows had all been of Orc-make, but each and every slain and injured attacker proved to be an Elf. Not only that, but their assailants were Mirkwood Elves. Many Gilglîr recognized as having served in the Great Hall itself.
Among the latter was Dûredhel, the councilor who had argued that Tawarmaenas should not be numbered amongst the company. Gilglîr now remembered that this one Elf had always sought to ingratiate himself with Legolas' cousin, often flattering him by asking his advice and then complimenting him upon his replies. Now barely breathing, Dûredhel had been pierced by many arrows and was too badly injured to speak. Elrond and Gilglîr tried to question several of the other survivors whose wounds were less severe. Each behaved like the Elf first encountered by Elrohir. They thrashed about, lashing out with knives at anyone who came near. Carefully the frantic Elves were one by one disarmed and restrained as gently as possible, but no matter the kind treatment that they received, they refused to speak. At last the elf-lords gave up the effort. The Seneschal pondered for awhile and then spoke.
"I think I see how it was. For centuries Dûredhel believed that it would be Tawarmaenas who would ascend to the throne, and through 'befriending' Tawarmaenas, he hoped to someday wield much power. But your unforeseen return, Legolas, ruined his plan; hence he wished to do away with you in order to restore the status quo. This explains why he was so anxious that Tawarmaenas remain safely behind in the Great Hall. He did not wish to risk the life of the Elf through whom he hoped to rule some day."
"Do you suspect," said Elrond, "that Tawarmaenas had anything to do with this conspiracy?"
Legolas opened his mouth to protest, but Gilglîr silenced him with a look.
"After today," said the Seneschal slowly, "nothing would surprise me. But, no, I do not believe that he knew of this conspiracy. It was Tawarmaenas who convinced me that Legolas still lived, and it was Tawarmaenas who urged me to search for him. These are hardly the actions of someone who hoped to ascend to the throne."
Glorfindel spoke.
"You have provided a motive for Dûredhel's treachery, but what of these others? What could they have hoped to have gained by assassinating their prince?"
Gilglîr looked troubled.
"I do not know. Let us search the Elves for some sign—letters, perhaps, or other tokens."
Carefully, they searched the wounded and the bodies of the slain. It soon became apparent that each had carried a ring. These rings were not, however, displayed openly on the hands of the Elves. Rather the rings were worn on neck chains that were themselves hidden underneath the tunics of the warriors. They were simple rings, unremarkable save for the fact that each and every one of the enemy Elves had borne one. Gilglîr held one up to the sunlight, turning it each and every way, looking for any device or lettering. There appeared to be none. It was a simple, smooth ring of mithril, undecorated save for the beauty of the metal itself.
"These rings must signify their shared purpose," said Glorfindel.
"Or," opined Elrond, "they cast a spell upon the Elves. Else how do you explain so many Elves betraying their King and Prince?"
"If that is so," warned Gilglîr, "we'd best handle them as little as possible, although we must of course continue to try to unravel their mystery."
"Mithrandir may be able to help us there," suggested Legolas.
"Aye," agreed Glorfindel, "or Saruman. Are not the Rings of Power his especial study?"
"True," Elrond said slowly, almost reluctantly. "If Gandalf is unable to help us, then mayhap Saruman can."
Legolas did not like this suggestion, but he kept quiet because he thought he could do nothing. He did not know that Elrond had begun to share his uneasiness about the Istar of Isengard.
"For now," continued Elrond, "let us wrap them securely, and let the bundle be carried by a packhorse. I do not want any of our Elves nearer than necessary to these rings, for I misdoubt that they are evil."
Gilglîr suggested that they instead divide the rings into two bundles. He and Legolas and the other Mirkwood Elves would return to the Great Hall, and one of their packhorses would bear a bundle. Once at the Great Hall, a message would be sent on to Lothlórien, seeking the guidance of the Lady. Perhaps the rings would be sent on to her, should she desire to examine them. The other bundle would accompany the Imladris Elves so that they might show the rings to Mithrandir when he rejoined their company.
This seemed sensible advice, and all agreed.
Now they gave some thought as to what was to be done with the dead and captured Elves.
"We do not know the cause of their treachery," save Legolas thoughtfully. "If the dead acted under duress or enchantment, it seems unjust to consign them to mass burning without benefit of ceremony."
"True," agreed Gilglîr. "We must take steps to return the bodies to their relatives so that the dead may be properly commemorated. Whatever led them to behave so treacherously at the end, their lives were not without merit. Moreover, even if they had been altogether evil, the fault was not that of their kinsmen, whose grief should not be compounded by their being denied the opportunity to farewell their dead fathers and sons and brothers."
"And what of the living?" said Elrond.
"It would be out of the question to slay the Elves as we do wounded Orcs," declared Legolas, "at least not until it becomes plain that they are past amendment. If the rings had something to do with their treachery, perhaps the removal of those bands will itself start them on the path to recovering their wits."
It was in fact true that each and every injured Elf had become much calmer as soon as his ring had been wrested away from him. This gave hope to Legolas and the others that the Elves could be restored to reason, although it was likely some would be in danger of fading from grief once they realized that they had ambushed their kinsmen and sought the death of their Prince. At the very least, some in their sorrow and shame would choose to leave for the Grey Havens and so would be lost to Middle Earth.
"The Elves of Imladris will for now remain here," offered Elrond, "both to safeguard the bodies of the dead and to tend to the wounded. It would not do for you Greenwood Elves to divide your party so that some remain and some ride back for help. You cannot be certain that you will not be assailed as you return to the Hall; thus you should remain in as large a company as possible."
"Hannon le," said Gilglîr gratefully. "Legolas, you should bid farewell to your friends. Once we return to the Great Hall, Thranduil will send out many warriors to recover both the slain and the injured, but I doubt that you will be numbered amongst the riding."
Legolas doubted it as well, and he went to break the news to Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel that he would be riding back to the Hall and would be unlikely to return to accompany them any further on their journey.
"This must be farewell, my friends," he said sadly, "and it will probably be long before we see each other again. After this attack, I am sure that my father will try to hold me close."
"You should point out to him," suggested Elladan, "that this attack took place within his realm. It appears he is mistaken if he thinks he can keep you safe by imprisoning you within his domain."
"You may be sure that I will try that argument," said Legolas. "But it is unlikely to do any good. Perhaps," he added gloomily, "I should run away."
"NOOOO!!!" chorused all his friends.
"Legolas," said Elrohir firmly, "you are the Prince of Greenwood and heir to the throne. You can no longer shirk your responsibilities. Thranduil will not grant you as much freedom as you had formerly, but you shall have to make do."
"Easy for you to say," retorted Legolas. "You have always had more choices than I have had!"
"Oh, the life of a prince is soooo dreadful!" scoffed Elrohir.
"Elrohir, that's not fair," interjected Elladan. "We two share the burden of the future of Imladris, but Legolas carries the fate of Mirkwood entirely upon his shoulders."
"He does have Tawarmaenas," argued Elrohir.
"Yes, as a steward, but you know it is not the same thing. It is still Legolas who will have the ultimate responsibility for all decisions. Whereas, as long as you and I both remain in Middle Earth, we will decide jointly what is best to be done."
"Which," crowed Elrohir triumphantly, "proves my point: Legolas cannot sidestep his duty for he shares it with no one."
Legolas had to smile at the flummoxed expression on Elladan's face.
"Enough, you two! I promise I will not run away."
"Of course," Elrohir now suggested, a mischievous look upon his face, "it will probably not hurt your cause if you were to threaten to run away from time to time."
Now Legolas laughed in earnest.
"Elrohir, one minute you speak as gravely as an elder; the next you are as impish as an elfling. But you are probably right. I have no wish to be sly, but I do not think I will tell Thranduil that I don't ever mean to run off."
"That's lying by omission," announced Estel, who had been listening to this entire conversation with great interest. "And it's the best sort of lying because it works as well as actually uttering an untruth but at the same time is not really lying at all."
"Oh, and who told you that?" asked Legolas.
"You did!"
"I did!?" Legolas looked silly.
"Yes, you did! It was around the same time that you showed me how to escape the Hall by climbing down the trellis."
Elladan and Elrohir were now laughing immoderately, so much so that they attracted Erestor's attention.
"Here, now, what is this ruckus!?" he grumbled.
"Estel is revealing all of Legolas' secrets," shouted Elladan, "and look how he blushes!"
"Who? Legolas or Estel?"
"Legolas, of course. Estel never blushes."
"And if he did," Elrohir chimed in, "'twould never be apparent under all that grime!"
Here Estel did blush, and he stood up and rapidly walked away. The young Elves instantly sobered.
"I do believe," said Legolas softly, "that we have hurt Estel's feelings."
Elladan nodded thoughtfully.
"Estel is growing rapidly, both in stature and maturity. He is not a grubby little boy any longer. We shall have to remember that henceforth."
"My words were the most offensive," volunteered Elrohir. "I will go and speak to him."
"Very well, brother," said Elladan, "but do tell him that we are all sorry."
Elrohir hastened after Estel.
"Estel," he called, "wait up."
"Why should I?" said Estel bitterly. "I do not want to offend your sensitive elven nose."
"Estel, you do not smell like an Elf, 'tis true, but you do not smell like an Orc, either."
"A Troll, then?"
"No, not a Troll. You smell like leaves and horses and earth, but such odors are not foul ones. They are the ones properly belonging to a Ranger."
A hopeful look passed across Estel's face.
"A Ranger?"
"Aye, a Ranger."
Estel sometimes envied the Elves, for he felt his woodcraft inadequate when compared to theirs. But for all his admiration of Elves, for all his attempts to emulate them, he did not want to be one. No, he had always wanted to be a Ranger. The Men of the North were tall and mysterious, their garb and demeanor hinting at adventures unguessed at by the Elves who for the most part dwelled in comfort in Rivendell. It was a harsh life, Estel knew, but it was the one he wanted, and he was glad to be compared to a Ranger, even if only in odor! The youth promptly forgave Elrohir and the others and cheerfully turned back with the young Elf. It was a good thing, too, for the Mirkwood Elves were saddling up, and both Estel and Legolas would have been sad if they had parted on less than amiable terms.
A short while later Legolas was trying to maintain a dignified demeanor as he rode away with Gilglîr and the Greenwood Elves, but in the end he could not help but look back longingly. There stood many whom he loved, the lad not the least. "I wonder," he murmured to himself, "how much time will pass before I see them again."
He tried not to think it, but another thought there was that he could not keep from his mind: were there some in that party whom he would never again embrace? It was only with the greatest effort of will that Legolas, Prince of Greenwood, kept himself from turning his horse about and galloping after his friends.