PART 11
Nuhision, Aragorn, Gandalf and Elrond turned and walked sedately up the shining staircase, leaving the remaining members of the Company standing awkwardly in a sudden silence before the large table that served the Great Hall.
Gimli, as always when he was nervous, had a great scowl on his face and regarded the fifty members of the Rohan court with malice. One hand was on his axe and the other was clenched tightly by his side. His expression only lightened when Legolas put a hand on his shoulder. The elven-twins stood more gracefully, their beautiful faces outwardly composed and confident. They stood as royal princes do, regally and calmly, their expressions never betraying their true feelings. But Legolas knew, from gazing into their bright eyes, that they were very nervous and wanted to run, as he did, far from the stares of the people sitting at table.
The Rohan archers were composed of a group of fifty men and women, all above seven feet tall and each full of powerful strength. The men all had long dark red hair and fierce brown eyes, with very dark skin and powerful shoulders and arms. Their faces were curious, but set in a scowl very much like Gimli's. Their bows rested beside them, and when Gimli put a hand on his axe, their hands flew quickly to their weapons. These were fearless men, trained by the best in battle that there was. The women were smaller, but no more less powerful, and their feminine features did not soften their fierce scowls. Legolas felt even more nervous as a shadow passed over his fair elven face. The sun cast its rays into the Golden Hall, lighting all of their faces and seeming to soften the air of tension.
A male Rohirrim stood. "You are welcome here, Elves and Dwarf," said he in a rough voice. "Please do to sit down and partake of a meal. Our steeds have told us of your journey and hardships, and the Rohirrim are known for their hospitality." He managed to soften his features enough to smile at them and on his cue, the rest relaxed and the Company was led to the table to eat.
While this was going on, Nuhision, Gandalf, Elrond and Aragorn were conferencing in Nuhision's great study. The walls were made of a deep cedar, and books lined the floor-to-ceiling shelves that surrounded the circular room. Now that the sun was nearly set, candles had lit themselves around the room, closing it in and giving it a close feeling of secrecy. Nuhision himself seemed even bigger and more awesome in the semi-darkness, his black hair gleaming and green eyes snapping with fire and majesty. He bade them all sit and regarded each of them, one by one.
He spoke abruptly in his rich voice. "Gandalf. You alone know the danger that resides in the hills of Mordor. What of it?"
Gandalf spoke, looking grave. "It is a danger beyond what we have battled before. You have been warned of Zycrah's power, and I am sure you have heard her fell voice on the winds through the grasses. We are in need of your Rohirrim archers to battle her. I have prepared for you." He spilled a cascade of little green elessars onto the polished surface of the table, their sound washing against the wood like the finest waterfall. "With your help, we can get to the gates of Mordor."
Nuhision sighed. "Gandalf, for many months now we have heard this creature's voice, but have seen no sign of her power anywhere save a few orcs, which we killed outright, through the eyes. They did not even cross the paths of the old fields, which are uninhabited now."
Elrond sat up straighter, his regal voice as strong as Nuhision's own. "You were able to kill them because of your archer's straight shooting! They can no longer hallucinate, which is how they are controlled, if they are blind! We need your help, Nuhision. They are already at the Gates of Rivendell!"
Nuhision leaned forward, his sharp eyes flashing fire. "And I thought the Elves cured all! Did you not say, Elrond, that Elves are stronger than men? Did you not say that they could not be defeated in battle?"
As soon as he had flared up, the fire in Elrond went out, and he leaned in his chair, a tired king once again. "I did, yes, but this can only happen if we have the strength of men to help us."
Nuhision stared at Elrond, then his great shoulders slumped. "Well, Elessar, I do not hear a word from you. It is Gondor who will inherit Middle-earth. What say you?"
Aragorn, from the shadows, answered quietly. "I say what my elven-brother has asked you. We need the help of the Rohirrim archers to save Middle- earth."
Nuhision nodded gravely. "So it shall be done. They will accompany you to Mordor in two days time. Shall you be requiring the centaurs?"
Gandalf spoke again. "Most definitely yes. They are among the strongest steeds I have seen, and are a force to be reckoned with. Elrond will call his elven-army when we reach Gondor, and we will then march on Mordor."
Nuhision smiled. "Then it is settled. I will have pleasure collaborating with such strong forces. We will kill the evil from this place for good!" The company nodded and put their hands together in the Rohirrim agreement, and then went down to the Great Hall, where they found quite the joyous revel going on.
The fifty Rohirrim archers were joking, nay, laughing with the Elves and Dwarf. Much eating and drinking was going on, and even a few danced to the small orchestra playing in a corner of the vast Hall. The centaurs had returned and were chatting amongst themselves, Telperonwen breaking away to run amuck through the Hall, running down many dancers and causing general mayhem, but the Rohirrim were used to her antics, and simply ignored her or cheered her on.
Aragorn, Gandalf and Elrond settled at the head of the table with Nuhision, chatting civilly of political matters, while the twin-princes coyly spoke with some of the prettier Rohirrim ladies, Nuhision's daughters - they may have been married, but the twins were known for their playfulness and gentility with women. Gimli even was speaking semi-civilly with a great Rohan man, and they were discussing the make of their weapons and which breed of horse was best for battle. The only one still in the midst of all this revelry was Legolas.
He felt detached, almost as an outsider. He had been secluded in his Mirkwood kingdom for so long that he had forgotten how to hold his own at a gathering of different peoples. He felt his thoughts drifting away and spinning into the colour and noise of the party, and his eyes slowly slid from focus and returned to the gentle kingdom of Mirkwood . . .
*****
. . . Elladriel was sitting at the table in Legolas' study, writing gracefully in her lovely hand and enjoying the cool air from the woods upon her face. It was shortly after sundown, and the Mirkwood Elves had just finished their main meal in the Great Hall. Elladriel had crept away from the customary songs and stories and with Ashira, had come up to the study to think about her husband and to spend some time with her daughter. Ashira had grown but a very little, as elven-children are wont to do, and seemed a bit off colour since her father had left. It was if she knew that he was gone on a dangerous journey, for her sparkling coos and giggles were seldom heard now and she would cry for long periods on end, without stopping. She had fallen asleep during the meal in Elladriel's arms, and so Elladriel had taken Ashira up to her room to put her down. The elfling had only stirred a little when the warmth of Elladriel's arms left her, and she had been quiet for over an hour.
Elladriel was writing her husband a letter. She never meant to send it, for she had no idea where he was, but they had made a pact when they were married to always keep in touch, no matter if the message was written or just thought. Elladriel had always had a habit of writing things down, and it made her feel better, as if she were actually speaking to Legolas her thoughts, concerns and feelings for him.
Her letter ran:
My dearest,
The sun here shines not as brightly and the trees are dimmed now that you are not here to light them with your regal presence. The stories are sad, the songs are plaintive and your palace languishes under my inadequate care. The sky is darker now, and rain comes more often to our beloved forest. Our hearts are lacklustre and our souls beg for your return.
Your daughter cries for you everyday, and her tears sadden the whole kingdom. I cannot keep her emotions from falling, and the wind in her room is cold from her chilled feelings. She misses you terribly. Her growth is the same as ever, it is her emotions that are turned always to her missing father. The health of all the subjects remain the same, and we all wait for you to come back to light our faces and stir our hearts with the laughter and charm you give.
And I? I am dim. Not a day goes by I do not miss your warm strength around me, boosting my confidence and keeping me strong. I am a better Queen, nay, a better Elf, when you stand beside me. You complete me, my love, you complete my other half as was ordained by the stars above. They twinkle on your palace as I write here. I sit, the wind on my hair, and think I can hear your voice, uplifted in song as a true Elf always is. You make the wind run warm and your very voice touches the rain and makes it gentle on the golden mallorn leaves.
You will return to me, my love, my precious, my soulmate. And when you do, the faeries will rejoice and I will stand at the Hall, as always, to meet you.
And if perchance, you do not return . . . I will stand at the Hall everyday still, and wait for your soft emerald soul to come back to his palace, his home.
Namarie, my love, come back to me.
Your Elladriel.
As Elladriel placed the last words on the page, she heard a stirring from the room next door, and thinking that Ashira was in distress, she ran quickly into the baby's room.
At first, she saw nothing but the wind slowly swaying the leaves through the wide windows. She heard nothing from the crib, and she sighed in relief and turned to leave. It was then she heard a slight cooing from behind her. Elladriel turned around and went to the crib, and looked in.
Ashira lay there, a golden light surrounding her as her bright elven-eyes lay focused quietly above her, upon the mobile that her father had so recently sent home with his message. Every so often, she would squirm a little and coo delightedly and softly. The mobile itself chimed and moved with the wind, and Elladriel, listening, could discern a melody that Legolas always sang to Ashira before she went to bed. The baby was unearthly white, her face composed and calm, and slowly, Elladriel watched her eyes close and her face become peaceful with the song of her father on the wind. The baby was breathing deeply by the time the moon rose above the intertwined roof, and Elladriel's face was wet with tears as she stroked her baby's hair and knew that Legolas was still watching over his kingdom from afar.
*******
The moon rose over the Halls of Rohan as the party dwindled to a stop and the Rohan archers quieted for sleep. There was no need to watch in the Halls, and for the first night since they had left Rivendell, the Company fell into a restful sleep as the night rolled on above and the wind played the sweet harp of time and peace.
Nuhision, Aragorn, Gandalf and Elrond turned and walked sedately up the shining staircase, leaving the remaining members of the Company standing awkwardly in a sudden silence before the large table that served the Great Hall.
Gimli, as always when he was nervous, had a great scowl on his face and regarded the fifty members of the Rohan court with malice. One hand was on his axe and the other was clenched tightly by his side. His expression only lightened when Legolas put a hand on his shoulder. The elven-twins stood more gracefully, their beautiful faces outwardly composed and confident. They stood as royal princes do, regally and calmly, their expressions never betraying their true feelings. But Legolas knew, from gazing into their bright eyes, that they were very nervous and wanted to run, as he did, far from the stares of the people sitting at table.
The Rohan archers were composed of a group of fifty men and women, all above seven feet tall and each full of powerful strength. The men all had long dark red hair and fierce brown eyes, with very dark skin and powerful shoulders and arms. Their faces were curious, but set in a scowl very much like Gimli's. Their bows rested beside them, and when Gimli put a hand on his axe, their hands flew quickly to their weapons. These were fearless men, trained by the best in battle that there was. The women were smaller, but no more less powerful, and their feminine features did not soften their fierce scowls. Legolas felt even more nervous as a shadow passed over his fair elven face. The sun cast its rays into the Golden Hall, lighting all of their faces and seeming to soften the air of tension.
A male Rohirrim stood. "You are welcome here, Elves and Dwarf," said he in a rough voice. "Please do to sit down and partake of a meal. Our steeds have told us of your journey and hardships, and the Rohirrim are known for their hospitality." He managed to soften his features enough to smile at them and on his cue, the rest relaxed and the Company was led to the table to eat.
While this was going on, Nuhision, Gandalf, Elrond and Aragorn were conferencing in Nuhision's great study. The walls were made of a deep cedar, and books lined the floor-to-ceiling shelves that surrounded the circular room. Now that the sun was nearly set, candles had lit themselves around the room, closing it in and giving it a close feeling of secrecy. Nuhision himself seemed even bigger and more awesome in the semi-darkness, his black hair gleaming and green eyes snapping with fire and majesty. He bade them all sit and regarded each of them, one by one.
He spoke abruptly in his rich voice. "Gandalf. You alone know the danger that resides in the hills of Mordor. What of it?"
Gandalf spoke, looking grave. "It is a danger beyond what we have battled before. You have been warned of Zycrah's power, and I am sure you have heard her fell voice on the winds through the grasses. We are in need of your Rohirrim archers to battle her. I have prepared for you." He spilled a cascade of little green elessars onto the polished surface of the table, their sound washing against the wood like the finest waterfall. "With your help, we can get to the gates of Mordor."
Nuhision sighed. "Gandalf, for many months now we have heard this creature's voice, but have seen no sign of her power anywhere save a few orcs, which we killed outright, through the eyes. They did not even cross the paths of the old fields, which are uninhabited now."
Elrond sat up straighter, his regal voice as strong as Nuhision's own. "You were able to kill them because of your archer's straight shooting! They can no longer hallucinate, which is how they are controlled, if they are blind! We need your help, Nuhision. They are already at the Gates of Rivendell!"
Nuhision leaned forward, his sharp eyes flashing fire. "And I thought the Elves cured all! Did you not say, Elrond, that Elves are stronger than men? Did you not say that they could not be defeated in battle?"
As soon as he had flared up, the fire in Elrond went out, and he leaned in his chair, a tired king once again. "I did, yes, but this can only happen if we have the strength of men to help us."
Nuhision stared at Elrond, then his great shoulders slumped. "Well, Elessar, I do not hear a word from you. It is Gondor who will inherit Middle-earth. What say you?"
Aragorn, from the shadows, answered quietly. "I say what my elven-brother has asked you. We need the help of the Rohirrim archers to save Middle- earth."
Nuhision nodded gravely. "So it shall be done. They will accompany you to Mordor in two days time. Shall you be requiring the centaurs?"
Gandalf spoke again. "Most definitely yes. They are among the strongest steeds I have seen, and are a force to be reckoned with. Elrond will call his elven-army when we reach Gondor, and we will then march on Mordor."
Nuhision smiled. "Then it is settled. I will have pleasure collaborating with such strong forces. We will kill the evil from this place for good!" The company nodded and put their hands together in the Rohirrim agreement, and then went down to the Great Hall, where they found quite the joyous revel going on.
The fifty Rohirrim archers were joking, nay, laughing with the Elves and Dwarf. Much eating and drinking was going on, and even a few danced to the small orchestra playing in a corner of the vast Hall. The centaurs had returned and were chatting amongst themselves, Telperonwen breaking away to run amuck through the Hall, running down many dancers and causing general mayhem, but the Rohirrim were used to her antics, and simply ignored her or cheered her on.
Aragorn, Gandalf and Elrond settled at the head of the table with Nuhision, chatting civilly of political matters, while the twin-princes coyly spoke with some of the prettier Rohirrim ladies, Nuhision's daughters - they may have been married, but the twins were known for their playfulness and gentility with women. Gimli even was speaking semi-civilly with a great Rohan man, and they were discussing the make of their weapons and which breed of horse was best for battle. The only one still in the midst of all this revelry was Legolas.
He felt detached, almost as an outsider. He had been secluded in his Mirkwood kingdom for so long that he had forgotten how to hold his own at a gathering of different peoples. He felt his thoughts drifting away and spinning into the colour and noise of the party, and his eyes slowly slid from focus and returned to the gentle kingdom of Mirkwood . . .
*****
. . . Elladriel was sitting at the table in Legolas' study, writing gracefully in her lovely hand and enjoying the cool air from the woods upon her face. It was shortly after sundown, and the Mirkwood Elves had just finished their main meal in the Great Hall. Elladriel had crept away from the customary songs and stories and with Ashira, had come up to the study to think about her husband and to spend some time with her daughter. Ashira had grown but a very little, as elven-children are wont to do, and seemed a bit off colour since her father had left. It was if she knew that he was gone on a dangerous journey, for her sparkling coos and giggles were seldom heard now and she would cry for long periods on end, without stopping. She had fallen asleep during the meal in Elladriel's arms, and so Elladriel had taken Ashira up to her room to put her down. The elfling had only stirred a little when the warmth of Elladriel's arms left her, and she had been quiet for over an hour.
Elladriel was writing her husband a letter. She never meant to send it, for she had no idea where he was, but they had made a pact when they were married to always keep in touch, no matter if the message was written or just thought. Elladriel had always had a habit of writing things down, and it made her feel better, as if she were actually speaking to Legolas her thoughts, concerns and feelings for him.
Her letter ran:
My dearest,
The sun here shines not as brightly and the trees are dimmed now that you are not here to light them with your regal presence. The stories are sad, the songs are plaintive and your palace languishes under my inadequate care. The sky is darker now, and rain comes more often to our beloved forest. Our hearts are lacklustre and our souls beg for your return.
Your daughter cries for you everyday, and her tears sadden the whole kingdom. I cannot keep her emotions from falling, and the wind in her room is cold from her chilled feelings. She misses you terribly. Her growth is the same as ever, it is her emotions that are turned always to her missing father. The health of all the subjects remain the same, and we all wait for you to come back to light our faces and stir our hearts with the laughter and charm you give.
And I? I am dim. Not a day goes by I do not miss your warm strength around me, boosting my confidence and keeping me strong. I am a better Queen, nay, a better Elf, when you stand beside me. You complete me, my love, you complete my other half as was ordained by the stars above. They twinkle on your palace as I write here. I sit, the wind on my hair, and think I can hear your voice, uplifted in song as a true Elf always is. You make the wind run warm and your very voice touches the rain and makes it gentle on the golden mallorn leaves.
You will return to me, my love, my precious, my soulmate. And when you do, the faeries will rejoice and I will stand at the Hall, as always, to meet you.
And if perchance, you do not return . . . I will stand at the Hall everyday still, and wait for your soft emerald soul to come back to his palace, his home.
Namarie, my love, come back to me.
Your Elladriel.
As Elladriel placed the last words on the page, she heard a stirring from the room next door, and thinking that Ashira was in distress, she ran quickly into the baby's room.
At first, she saw nothing but the wind slowly swaying the leaves through the wide windows. She heard nothing from the crib, and she sighed in relief and turned to leave. It was then she heard a slight cooing from behind her. Elladriel turned around and went to the crib, and looked in.
Ashira lay there, a golden light surrounding her as her bright elven-eyes lay focused quietly above her, upon the mobile that her father had so recently sent home with his message. Every so often, she would squirm a little and coo delightedly and softly. The mobile itself chimed and moved with the wind, and Elladriel, listening, could discern a melody that Legolas always sang to Ashira before she went to bed. The baby was unearthly white, her face composed and calm, and slowly, Elladriel watched her eyes close and her face become peaceful with the song of her father on the wind. The baby was breathing deeply by the time the moon rose above the intertwined roof, and Elladriel's face was wet with tears as she stroked her baby's hair and knew that Legolas was still watching over his kingdom from afar.
*******
The moon rose over the Halls of Rohan as the party dwindled to a stop and the Rohan archers quieted for sleep. There was no need to watch in the Halls, and for the first night since they had left Rivendell, the Company fell into a restful sleep as the night rolled on above and the wind played the sweet harp of time and peace.