Yarrie: Eeep! Terrified writer scuttles toward computer, pursued by Orc disguised as fanfiction fan 'Yarrie'.
Nathalia Potter: Ah, you are on the mathematical chapter. Maybe I should do another one of those. Or maybe I could work through Erestor's entire curriculum: science, history, philosophy, etc. Actually, I guess I've covered science in 'Got Milk'. After all, the topic of reproduction can be considered to be biology.
Joee: Hmm. We haven't seen Thranduil in a while. Maybe it's time for a 'meanwhile back at the ranch' chapter. About Haldir: I should show him trying to woo an elleth! About Glorfindel: He hasn't found out yet, but I should create a chapter (or a separate story) in which he does! About Legolas and the pictures of him sans clothes. Yes, I must do a side story in which he comes across one of those! The potential for satire and humor is just too much to forgo.
Terreis: Codeine, eh? Maybe you should try some of Gandalf's mushrooms! Yes, they will head back to Imladris, so more adventures with Elrohir and Elladan coming up. Hopefully, however, no more beds will collapse! Oh, yes: I'm sure you do look forward to Thranduil's reaction much more than Legolas does! Ah, you caught the reference to the Pirates of the Caribbean (author beams).
Legosgurl: Yes, Thranduil's face will be a study when he hears the news.
Beta Reader: Dragonfly.
Chapter 60: Herd Mentality
The festivities had concluded, Caranlass' parents had made their farewells and departed for their homeland, and the Mirkwood Elves had begun to think of doing likewise.
"I have very much enjoyed my stay here," said Legolas to Círdan—quite truthfully, by the way, for, as soon as he was sure that it was Tathar who was to be married, Legolas had been able to relax and fully appreciate the beauty of his surroundings.
"You have very much enjoyed your stay here, but," said Círdan, smiling.
"But," continued Legolas, smiling as well, "I think it is time that my companions and I make the return journey to Mirkwood. For one thing, if we delay much longer, the weather will turn. I do not wish to cross the Misty Mountains in foul weather; nor do I wish to travel all the way to the Gap of Rohan, as we shall have to do if the Misty Mountains become particularly nasty, as they are wont to do on occasion."
"So I have heard," said Círdan. "I have never crossed those peaks myself during foul weather, but Mithrandir has been regaling me with tales of malevolent mountains. He tells me that Caradhras in particular is a real piece of work."
"That peak does have a reputation," agreed Legolas, "but I hope we will be able to avoid it and cross via a pass well to the north."
Mithrandir was of course pleased when Legolas told him that they would soon be departing the Grey Havens. The wizard had originally been making for the Shire, and he reminded Legolas of his promise that the company would bivouac on the border of that land so that he could visit it.
"It is past time for me to make a visit to Hobbiton," he declared. "I need to see how a friend of mine and his young kinsman have been getting on."
"You mean Bilbo, do you not, and his nephew—I disremember his name—Fredo was it?"
"Frodo. I did not know that you ever met him."
"Oh, I didn't, but Bilbo spoke of him. The young Perian was off birds-nesting with someone—the grandson of the gardener, I think."
"Yes, that would be Sam. I believe that someday Samwise Gamgee will be as invaluable to Frodo as Tathar is to you—just as loyal and steadfast. He is turning into a fair cook, too—although I do wish he would have a lighter hand when it comes to the salt! Hobbits and Dwarves share in common a belief that near any dish can be improved by a pinch of the stuff, and both peoples are inordinately fond of salted pork and corned beef. If I drink immoderate amounts of beer whilst in their company, that is the reason!"
"Ah, so it's two bad habits you have picked up from mortals—not only do you indulge in pipe weed, but you swill beer."
"Bad habits? Certainly not! They are both of them enjoyable pastimes."
"Enjoyable? You did not look as if you were enjoying yourself the other day in that drenching rainstorm. I saw you out there, shivering with cold because Círdan would not let you smoke within. You looked like a half-drowned Dwarf, hunched over, your clothes and beard soggy, rivulets of water running off the brim of your hat!"
"Well," huffed Gandalf, "the problem wasn't the pipeweed—it was Círdan! Even Elrond would have had pity upon me and allowed me to enter the Hall."
"Elrond has a very poor opinion of pipe weed, and you know it."
"Given that Beren is numbered amongst his ancestors, you'd think Elrond would demonstrate more toleration for the foibles of mortals."
"But you are no mortal, and so have no claim upon his forbearance."
"Do I look like an Elf?" Gandalf replied acerbically.
"No good, Mithrandir. Regardless of how you look, you are no mortal."
"More's the pity," sighed Gandalf. Legolas was surprised.
"If you were mortal you would die. Surely you would not wish for such an end!"
"Assuming that it is an end, which I am not at all certain is the case. But consider, Legolas: knowing that they shall die, many are the Men who live their lives over the space of a few years with a depth of feeling greater than that experienced by an Elf over the course of many centuries. You may say that immortality is the Gift of the Valar; I may say with equal reason that it is death that is the Gift."
"I suppose there is some sense in what you say," said Legolas slowly.
"Some sense! Some sense! Thank you very much," the wizard continued dryly, "for your overwhelming endorsement of my logic. You'd best remember, you young puppy, that I am a Maia."
"Pull rank, will you?" teased Legolas. "Aren't you the one who just a moment ago was so eager to claim kinship with humans?"
"That does not mean," Gandalf replied, unperturbed, "that I relinquish my claim to any of the perquisites of an Istar."
"What is it that Men say, Mithrandir? Ah, yes: you want to have your cake and eat it too!"
The bantering between wizard and elf was interrupted by the arrival of Gilglîr, who had been seeing to the arrangements for their departure.
"Mithrandir, pardon me for interrupting your conversation with Legolas, but I have news to report. It seems that during the night our horses decided to set off on the return journey sans their riders."
Anomen and Gandalf exchanged perplexed glances. Elven horses had been known to depart a place on their own initiative, but only when danger threatened. Moreover, when they did so, they were careful to bear their riders away with them. Legolas well remembered the time when his horse had suddenly broken into a gallop and pounded across a plain, Legolas swearing the while because the horse was carrying him in the wrong direction—or at least he thought the horse was carrying him in the wrong direction. When the horse finally drew up and Legolas was able to look back, his elven eyes could just make out a pack of wargs, their tongues lolling as they stood gazing forlornly after the breakfast that had so inexplicably gotten up and walked off the plate.
"I have never heard of the Grey Havens being assailed," said Gandalf. "Surely they could not have sensed an approaching threat."
"Yet if there is no danger, why did they depart?" mused Legolas. "On the other hand, if there is danger, why did they leave without us!?"
"It is strange," agreed Gilglîr.
"What of Círdan's horses," asked Gandalf. "Have they fled as well?" Círdan kept only a few horses at the Havens, having little need of them, but the steeds that did dwell there had appeared to be as intelligent and spirited as any in Elrond's herd.
Gilglîr shook his head.
"That's another thing that's odd. Círdan's horses remain in the paddock and seem untroubled."
"You would think," said Legolas, "that if our horses sensed danger, so, too would Círdan's. They are descended of the same stock, after all."
"Ah, but they have led sheltered lives," opined Gilglîr. "Perhaps they can no longer recognize the approach of danger as easily as our own horses, who have faced many perils."
"Even if they failed to sense danger, wouldn't our horses have explained matters to them?" said Legolas. "I find it hard to imagine that our horses would be so selfish as to leave them behind."
"They left us behind," Gilglîr pointed out.
"Oh, yes, that's true. I had forgotten," Legolas said lamely.
"Mayhap danger does not approach," suggested Gandalf. "Or, if it approaches, it is no threat to the Havens but only to us. That would explain why Círdan's horses remain."
"True," said Legolas, "but it doesn't explain why we still remain."
"Perhaps that's the point," said Gilglîr suddenly. "Perhaps the horses are trying to tell us that we should not remain. We were going to linger for a few more days. Let us depart at once. It will require only a little more in the way of packing. Indeed, we could be off in an hour's time."
"On foot?" said Legolas.
"Have your legs ceased to function, O Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Northern Mirkwood?" teased Gilglîr. "Mayhap it is the weight of that diadem. Remove it, and no doubt mobility will return to your limbs."
"I was thinking of the fact that we have no packhorses. I would not want to ask Círdan to spare any of his horses, for he has so few."
Gilglîr shrugged.
"Packhorses? We need no packhorses. We have our own sturdy shoulders. Moreover, we need walk no further than Imladris, for surely Elrond will loan us horses for the journey to Lothlórien, from whence we may return his horses and continue on mounts borrowed from the Galadhrim."
"I might also point out," Gandalf interjected, "that the company will have the opportunity to rest their weary legs whilst I spend time in the Shire. I trust that this development will not force me to forgo that promised visit," he added wistfully.
Both Legolas and Gilglîr laughed in amusement, so plain was the wizard's longing for his beloved Shire.
"I swear to you that we shall deliver you safely to its borders," promised Legolas. "Gilglîr," he said, turning to the seneschal, "please inform our companions that we depart within the hour."
Gilglîr bowed slightly and hurried off to convey the order. The command presented no difficulty to anyone save the newlyweds.
"We could not possibly bear these gifts upon our backs," said Caranlass, surveying the garments, the utensils, the musical instruments, and the books that had been proffered in honor of their nuptials. "We shall have to leave them behind."
"Perhaps we can send for them later," suggested Tathar.
Edwen Nana was bustling about the room and said nothing. After a bit, she vanished. Shortly thereafter, a knock was heard.
"Enter," called Tathar. In came a scout. He picked up a flute.
"I'm all packed, and with a little room to spare. I'll carry this for you, if you like."
"We thank you," Tathar said gratefully.
The scout vanished but was almost immediately replaced by another, who picked up a book.
"I'm all packed, and with a little room to spare. I'll carry this for you, if you like."
"We thank you," laughed Caranlass.
A third scout arrived shortly thereafter and picked up a set of ladles.
"Let me guess," chuckled Tathar. "You're all packed, and with a little room to spare. You'll carry that for us, if we like."
"Yes," grinned the scout.
Caranlass went to the door and peered out into the hall. She giggled. Shepherded by Edwen Nana, a line of Elves stood there cheerfully, each waiting to add a wedding gift to his pack. In short order, all the gifts had been distributed amongst them. In the end, Tathar and Caranlass were even able to bring away the chair that Tathar had carved for Caranlass whilst he was wooing her. By attaching straps to it, he very cleverly transformed it into a pack frame and bore it on his back. Indeed, so well did this contrivance distribute the weight of his other burdens, that several Elves later asked him to build them similar frames.
By noon, the Mirkwood Elves were ready to depart. They dined briefly with Círdan's household and then shouldered their packs and set off.
The day was a fine one, and so welcoming did the world appear that Legolas had difficulty imagining that there could be any peril in it.
'Perhaps', he said to himself, 'it was merely a freak occurrence, this sudden flight on the part of the horses. There may be nothing to it after all'.
Thus reassuring himself, he marched steadily onward with his belovéd companions.