Kelly Kragen: Yes, the Orcs are very nervy, calling the Elves 'pointy ears' when they themselves have such ears. Textbook case of the 'kettle calling the pot black'.
Vicki Turner: Thank you for the encouraging review!
Dragonfly: Thanks for pointing out Haldir's, uh, identity problem. He has now been restored to himself.
Joee: Let's see how much more trouble I can make for our favorite Elf. Mwahahaha.
Chapter 36: Gandalf's Bane
Gandalf rode through the Misty Mountains following the same trail as Legolas and his friends. He knew he approached the scene of battle long before he came upon it, for he saw the kites soaring overhead. As he drew nearer, he pulled a corner of his cloak over his nose to ward off the stench. Anxiously he urged his shying horse onward, praying that the bodies he was about to encounter would be those of foe rather than friend. It was with great relief that he broke into the clearing and at last saw that this was the case.
"This must be the doing of Legolas and his friends," he said to himself as he surveyed the scene of carnage, "although I cannot be sure because the arrows have been retrieved. Still, who else would be capable of bringing down so many enemies at so little cost to themselves?" For Gandalf saw no sign of a funeral pyre or of a grave and thus knew that no Elves had fallen there. Still, he hunted about the site for any signs that the Elves had indeed been there.
"Oh ho," he said at last, stooping and picking up a bloody fragment of cloth. "No Orc cloth this, but a strip torn from a Lórien cloak. So they did not escape entirely unscathed. Some blood on the ground here as well. Yet the quantity is not great, and it is to be hoped that the injury was not severe. Ah," he continued, stooping to pick up a thorn from the ground, "severe enough to require stitching. But not so severe as to force them to turn back. And since they have gone on, that means they are in hopes that Elladan and Elrohir yet live. Nothing they learned here has convinced them otherwise. Good."
Gandalf stood pondering awhile. Like Haldir and the other Elves, he was distressed at the thought of leaving the dead untended, but he, too, could not bestow the bodies properly.
"I think," he said at last, "that I will continue on foot. I mislike riding in the mountains anyway and will go but little slower. I will send back my horse with tokens of this battle, and his arrival in Lothlórien will bring out some Elves to attend to these bodies."
Gandalf retrieved four scimitars and bound them upon the horse's back and then sent the steed on his way. Before resuming his own journey, he smoothed a patch of dirt and with his staff drew upon it the rune for 'G'.
"That should suffice," he said, surveying his handiwork. "And now to put some distance between me and this noisome stench!"
Gandalf strode on quite vigorously for a Man who looked to be so agéd. His heart told him that Legolas was not too far ahead.
At that very moment, Legolas was looking over his shoulder. Haldir noticed that he had been doing this repeatedly.
"What is the matter, Legolas?"
"We are being pursued."
"Orcs?" said Orophin anxiously.
"No, 'tis no Orc, but I cannot make out what it is. I cannot seem to concentrate. I—I feel a little odd."
"You are odd," joked Rúmil, but in truth he did so only to disguise his fear for his friend, for it seemed to Rúmil that Legolas had been growing increasingly pale. Haldir had washed Legolas' wounds carefully, but was it possible that some Orc-poison had remained in one of them?
"Haldir," suggested Rúmil, "let us take a break. You can change the dressings on Legolas' wounds, and Orophin and I can scout the trail behind us to determine who or what follows us."
"Agreed," said Haldir. He dismounted and helped Legolas to do likewise. With concern, Haldir observed that Legolas' gait was unsteady and that he did not object when Haldir took hold of his elbow and helped him to the shade of a tree.
Rúmil and Orophin slipped back the way they had come, taking care to stay hidden. They had not gone far when they heard someone or something rustling its way through a thicket.
"Too noisy to be an Elf, surely," whispered Orophin.
"Aye, brother," agreed Rúmil grimly. "Let us split up, going to either side of this creature."
Shortly after parting from his brother, Orophin saw movement within the thicket. Yes, something grey moved there. An Orc? A wolf?
Surely the blow that Orophin had taken to the head at the hands of his Orc opponent must explain the action that he next took, for it is not characteristic of an Elf to release an arrow when not sure of his target. But that is just what Orophin now did.
"What in the name of Manwë!" bellowed an angry voice.
Orophin turned as white as the chalk downs and dropped his bow.
"Oh, no!" Orophin squeaked like a Hobbit. "I am doomed!"
Out from the thicket stalked an irate Istar, an arrow bristling in the crown of his tall hat.
"I should turn you into a Dwarf," growled the wizard. "For then you would wield an axe, a weapon that would require you to get close enough to your target to see what you are striking at!"
Truly Orophin had shrunk into himself so much that he already looked dwarf-like.
"I am so, so, so very sorry, Mithrandir!"
"Aye, and like to be sorrier before I'm done with you," huffed Gandalf.
Rúmil now joined them and hastily deflected the wizard's anger.
"Mithrandir, you can think on Orophin's punishment later. For now, we have need of your skills. Legolas is injured."
Gandalf immediately forgot the arrow that was still stuck in his hat.
"Where is he?" he demanded.
"Yonder a little ways," said Rúmil, gesturing up the trail.
"What do you stand there for? Lead me to him!"
Rúmil turned and loped back up the trail, and Gandalf strode after, sweeping past a shamefaced Orophin, who stooped to retrieve his bow and then followed the two at a safe distance.
Rúmil was careful to give voice to several bird calls as he approached the spot where they had left Haldir and Legolas. It occurred to him that Haldir might be as jumpy as Orophin had been, and, as he wore no peaked hat that would be little injured by a missile, he had no desire to be struck by an arrow!
Haldir could have broken into dance, so happy was he to see Gandalf.
"Mithrandir! How very like a wizard! You pop up at the most unexpected times and just when we need you the most!"
"Unexpected? How so? Did you truly think I would not follow after Legolas, for whose safety I stand pledged? Now stop babbling and let me see his injuries."
Legolas was now so dizzy that he lay prone, and his face had gone from pale to flushed. Gandalf quickly saw that the leg wound was clean, but that the head wound was either infected or poisoned.
"My compliments to whomever stitched this gash in Legolas' head," said Gandalf, "but the stitches shall have to come out and the wound be drained and cleaned."
"Legolas," said Rúmil anxiously, "perhaps you would like that wine now?"
"I think," said Legolas weakly, "that I will not need the wine, as I do not think I shall be awake for long." With that, he fainted, his eyes closing in a most unelvenly and alarming manner.
Haldir quickly kindled a fire while Orophin searched for a source of water and Rúmil gathered additional wood. As they worked, Gandalf stooped over Legolas and caressed his brow, murmuring words of incantation. When all was ready, the wizard washed his hands and then passed his knife through water and fire. With its point he picked out each stitch. A foul-smelling yellow liquid oozed forth, and Gandalf pressed carefully upon either side of the wound to be sure that as much as possible was forced out. Then he rinsed the wound again and again until the water ran clear.
"For now," he said at last, "let the wound be left unstitched. Let it be wrapped to keep out the dust, but only loosely."
Haldir saw to the bandaging while Gandalf washed the foulness from his hands. When all was finished, the Elves and the wizard debated what to do.
"Is it safe to move him, do you think?" worried Haldir.
"If he is moved gently, yes," opined Mithrandir. "And safer to move him to a well-guarded place where there is a great stock of healing herbs than to remain in this exposed place where few medicinal plants grow."
"Should we take him on to Imladris or return with him to Lothlórien?" said Orophin.
"Loríen and the Lady Galadriel are closer, but Elrond is acknowledged by all to be the better healer," observed Haldir.
"If we return to Lothlórien," Rúmil pointed out, "we will be abandoning Elladan and Elrohir. They may be in peril."
"We have already concluded that they are likely unharmed," said Haldir.
"But we are not certain," argued Rúmil.
"We could split up," suggested Orophin. "Rúmil and I could continue the search for Elladan and Elrohir, and Haldir and Mithrandir could return with Legolas to Lothlórien."
"In these dangerous times," said Gandalf, "no company should split up unless it is absolutely necessary. Let this fellowship be unbroken."
"What do you advise, Mithrandir?" asked Haldir.
"Lothlórien is indeed closer, but not very much so. Elrond is the better healer, and Elladan and Elrohir lie in the direction that we must take to reach Imladris. I would suggest that we make for Rivendell—and quickly. The longer we talk, the more time will pass before Legolas is placed in the hands of Elrond."
"He cannot sit his horse," declared Rúmil.
"True," agreed Mithrandir. "You have six horses. Which is the strongest?"
"Elrohir's," chorused the Lothlórien brothers. "But he is very wild."
"Like his rider," added Orophin, albeit unnecessarily.
"Let me speak to him," said Gandalf. "I'll warrant he'll bear both Legolas and myself after I've had a word or two with him."
Perhaps Gandalf threatened to geld him; perhaps he merely enchanted him. For whatever reason, Elrohir's great stallion, who was reputed to be only a little less high-spirited than Glorfindel's steed, did deign to carry both Gandalf and Legolas, who, carefully wrapped in cloaks, was gently lifted before the wizard.
"I have not borne Legolas in such a fashion since he was an elfling," remarked Gandalf as he rode, his voice a trifle wistful. "It was good having the care of a youngling, even one so trying as Legolas could be on occasion."
"Why, Mithrandir, you old bachelor," teased Rúmil, "does anything prevent you from having younglings of your own?"
"I am rather busy, I hope you know," retorted the wizard. "I would make a most unsatisfactory father, for I would be forever gallivanting about rescuing this kingdom and that."
"Such could be said of most fathers," Haldir said sententiously. "At least, those who are warriors and scouts. It is necessary that the mothers in those cases be very forbearing and resourceful."
"And that's another thing," continued Gandalf. "You haven't seen many female Maiar hereabouts, have you?"
"Elrond is Peredhil, for he is Half-elven," observed Orophin. "If Elf and Édan may join, is there any reason that a Maia may not bond where he will?"
"Ah, but who would have me?" rejoined Gandalf. "Think you any of your willowy, graceful ellith would want their cheeks scratched by my bristly beard!?"
"Actually," said Haldir thoughtfully, "according to what Legolas has said, there is one elleth in Thranduil's Great Hall who would gladly—"
"Oh, I pray you," interrupted Gandalf, "do not go there!"
"Why not?" said Rúmil, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I understand that she is a worthy elleth who will keep you in clean cloaks."
"Aye, with a vengeance," growled Gandalf. "I'd sooner wrestle a balrog!"
Legolas stirred then.
"Balrog," he muttered. "Balrog. Mithrandir's bane."
"What's that he's saying?" asked Haldir.
"I do not know," said Gandalf. But his face was troubled.