DISCLAIMER:
See chapter six
Series:
None.
Spoilers:
See chapter one
A/N: The elvish is all Quenya, I got it from one of the very few elvish wordlists that work in the way of an English/Elvish dictionary, making it easier to write songs and such.
//: Means a flashback.
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Three Rings for the Elven-Kings
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Chapter Eleven
The Road to Lothlórien
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You have not traveled swiftly until you have traveled with two elves.
Light-footed, carrying Hantor over his shoulder and running behind Sealbeth the two elves found their way out of the caves with little light and no guidance, following the edge of the cave wall. It was a day and a little more after they had left their companions that Legolas first spied the beginnings of light. The rising sun nearly blinded the two elves, having been in the darkness for almost three days. Stepping lightly onto a rocky outcropping, the two elves could see far across the world. Stretched out before and to either side of them was the great forest of Mirkwood; once a place of beauty and safety, it now was beset with many dangers. To the south, far in the distance, Legolas saw a dark cloud gathering. The Ring on his chest stirred as though in answer to some summoning, and Legolas shuddered in revulsion.
"Sealbeth, we are out!" he cried happily, hardly tired and not at all out of breath. Sealbeth followed, now carrying the dead weight of Hantor's failing body.
"Legolas, slow up! We cannot run all the way to Lothlórien," Sealbeth called, setting Hantor down carefully.
Legolas turned to his companion, suddenly grave. "We must, Sealbeth. For Hantor's sake."
"What do you care for the life of this human?" Sealbeth demanded, impatiently swatting at a few stray hairs in his eyes. "What is he to you?"
"He lives," Legolas said simply. "Is that not enough?"
"To risk the Quest for the life of a weakling human?" Sealbeth scoffed. "Have you lost your head? Think! If the Ring falls now into the hands of the Enemy, no human, nor elf, nor even the ridiculous dwarves would be safe. The world is counting on you, Legolas—do not take every burden onto your shoulders that comes your way."
"I will not let him die," Legolas said flatly.
"Then you are a fool!"
"If we go to Lothlórien, we would be safe there. We could rest, and ask the Lady for guidance."
"It is a long and dangerous journey."
"No more dangerous than taking the Ring through the forest of Mirkwood. We can leave signs for the others to follow—Aragorn will know what to look for."
Sealbeth sighed, suddenly looking very tired. "Do not make me order you, mellon," Legolas said softly, coming to stand beside him and placing a hand lightly on his shoulder.
Sealbeth turned slowly to look at his prince, his eyes dark and questioning. "What is he to you, Legolas? What drives you so to save him?"
Legolas had no answer.
* * * *
Hantor remembered little of the trip. As his heart and lungs labored to work, he realized with sudden clarity that he was going to die. But then again, he had known he was going to die for a very long time. Since the first time he had fallen ill, and Lord Elrond had found the birth defect in him.
//:"How long will I live?" he had asked, only fifteen at the time.
Elrond shook his head in answer, his eyes dark with sadness. "I do not know, Hantor. The weakness in your affects your heart and lungs. They will wear out long before their time, and then…" The elf-lords voice trailed off.
"Then I will suffocate and die," Hantor had said flatly, with no trace of emotion.
"Hantor…"
"So be it. It is my fate."://
Hantor lay quietly in Legolas' arms as the elves ran, feeling only emptiness inside.
* * * *
Sealbeth was hunting for food when Hantor finally woke from his deep, unnatural slumber. Legolas sat quietly beside him, motionless and utterly silent. His long dark hair was held in place with several small, elegant braids. The keen silvery-blue eyes watched the stars above, and Legolas sang softly in his own tongue. "Bain lalaith linnon a bain lend, nîn gwathel… nîn hûn." Beautiful laughter, I sing of a beautiful tune, my sister….my heart."
"What are you singing about?" Hantor asked groggily, coming out of the deep sleep he had been in.
Legolas looked down at the human for a moment, and then answered steadily, "My little sister."
"What is she like?" Hantor asked softly.
"She had long curly hair, and it used to bounce around her head. She had the most beautiful laugh…I always loved to hear her laugh. As a child, she would dance standing on my toes, and show me the secret place she had where she would store her treasures. It was in a willow tree not far from the palace, a beautiful and ancient tree. She had a doll, a stone I had given here, and a story she was writing, all hidden in an old owl-hole."
Hantor detected something in Legolas' voice that boded ill of the little girl he spoke so happily of. "What happened to her?"
Legolas did not look at him, but Hantor thought he saw tears in the ancient elf's eyes. "She died," he said softly. "Long ago. Orcs took her and my mother. We could not rescue them in time…" Legolas let out an unsteady voice. "My sister's tree was cut down by our father, against my wishes. I think the only way he could handle his grief was to forget her, forget them both."
He turned his bright eyes on the young human. "With longevity comes a terrible price, young human. As the years go by the burden of knowledge, of loss, of sadness experienced repeatedly wearies the soul. We watch our human friends die, we watch our siblings, friends, lovers, parents and companions die, through chance, through blade, through grief. Yet we cannot die naturally as you do, and so the years pile up until the laughter of childhood is long forgotten.
"'Tis a lonely life and one full of pain, Hantor. Arda Marred, we call Middle-Earth, for the presence of great evil here long ago destroyed the first work of the Valar, destroyed the beauty they had created, and warped it. That is why our powers diminish over the years in this land, why so many of my people seek the Westron Shores…for relief, for peace, for an end. We pay a great price for the life we live, young human, and unbeknownst to you we greatly envy the human race at times, with your gift to die. For though our bodies may perish, our souls remain in the confines of the world until years innumerable have passed. Yet you are free to leave this world and that freedom even the greatest powers, the Valar and the Maiar, envy."
Hantor struggled to sit up, his heart pounding in his ears. "Look at me," he answered, weariness in his tone, "I'm dying, Legolas, at only twenty-eight years old. You are a thousand times my age yet look no older, perhaps even younger than I look. You never fall ill, you never…" His voice trailed off as he saw the timeless sadness in the elf's eyes.
"I would trade gladly, young human. Sometimes I wish to die," Legolas said. "I miss my sister and her laughter."
The two fell silent and did not speak until Sealbeth returned.
* * * *
Legolas did not rest well that night.
He insisted he take the first shift, and once Hantor was asleep and Sealbeth was resting, he took to pacing. He had a vague sense of unease, as though something was creeping up on him. Back and forth, he paced, his breath frosting in the cold night air. They had lit no fire, yet Legolas knew instinctively someone, or something, had seen them.
By midnight, he could take it no longer. Waking Sealbeth and lifting Hantor into his arms, the two elves disappeared into the night, running south, towards Lothlórien.
By morning they were certain of their pursuers; a band of orcs, nearly thirty of them, and coming fast. "This is not good," Legolas panted, looking over his shoulder. Running all day and night while carrying an extra burden was easier for elves than for humans, but both Sealbeth and Legolas were beginning to show the strain of constant wariness and many long, sleepless nights.
"Really, I had not noticed," Sealbeth snapped, turning and letting loose a few arrows at the foremost of the orcs.
"We need to put some distance between us," Legolas said. Hantor had fallen unconscious again, and there was little either elf could do but get him to a healer, and quickly. Legolas handed Hantor to Sealbeth and ran along, shooting over his shoulder to slow the orcs down. The elves natural endurance outpaced that of the orcs, who began to fall behind, but still the orcs doggedly followed, urged on by the cracks of whips.
Sweat was beginning to form on Legolas' brow as he ran, his feet hardly seeming to touch the ground, running in silence except for the occasional twang of a bow over his shoulder.
The elves could cover almost a hundred miles a day, running steadily, and it was two hundred miles from the Northern Pass to the borders of Lothlórien. They had crossed the Sir Ningler River early on the first day down from the Northern Pass—Legolas knew that by the suns setting they would be within a few miles of Lothlórien.
If they lived that long.
Hantor groaned and suddenly seemed to be fighting for air. Legolas touched his face gentle with one hand. Sealbeth shot him a look-where-helping-humans-has-got-us look, which Legolas ignored.
"Hold on, young one," Legolas murmured. "We are nearly there."
As Legolas spoke, the two elves crested a hill, and caught their breath at the sight of Lothlórien's sweeping forest, stretching out far on all sides.
Sealbeth looked over his shoulder. "No time to waste, Legolas."
"Indeed," Legolas said with a sigh, and off the two elve went.
It was not long before they were passing under the mallorn trees. But to their dismay, the orcs neither halted nor slowed, and neither elf knew exactly where the hidden city of the elves lay.
Just as Legolas was beginning to despair of any help, a sharp voice caught his attention. "Amsí!"
He stopped suddenly and looked up. His keen eyes caught the glint of a fierce, elvish face peering down from the trees. Legolas swiftly turned and took Hantor from Sealbeth, allowing the wearying elf to spring up lightly and disappear into the boughs of the tree. Legolas swiftly followed.
The three elves waited silently as the orcs passed them by, grunting and snapping whips, their smell causing Legolas to gag silently.
"Legolas, Sealbeth," Legolas said promptly when the orcs were passed, motioning to himself and Sealbeth.
"Suilad, Thranduilion," the elf said quietly.
"Mae govannen, edhel uin Lothlorien," Legolas answered. "Yrch aphad men."
The elf's eyes held silent questioning. Legolas and Sealbeth exchanged looks.
"Lothron im pedo an i hiril?" Legolas asked
The elf glanced to one side, as though sigling some unseen companion. "Aphad nin."
* * * *
With two elven escorts, Legolas, Sealbeth, and an unconscious Hantor made the journey into Lothlorien swiftly. It was clear that Hantor would not last long without treatment, and as weary as the two elves were becoming neither would slow down the rapid pace they were setting.
It took another day to reach Lothlorien, and by the time they reached the city Legolas was looking nearly as bad as Hantor, the Ring sucking his strength and endurance from his body. The elven healers quickly took Hantor away once Legolas and Hantor reached the elven city. Sealbeth was oddly silent as he walked beside his lord, and his eyes were downcast. If Legolas had not been so preoccupied with his own worries and concerns he would have noticed his companion's melencholy.
Their guide took them into the city of the Galadhrim, Caras Galadhon. Legolas looked about him in delight, forgetting briefly his troubles and weariness, looking at the tall and magestic mallorn trees, softly speaking to the elves in their native tongue.
"The Lord and Lady will see you now," said an elf by the name of Haldir, the one who had found them. "Follow me please."
The climb to the top of the largest and grandest mallorn tree was a long one. Sealbeth followed Legolas up the steps, and he seemed strangely reluctant, as though there was something he had to do but dreaded doing it.
When they reached the top mallorn flet, the Lord and Lady rose to greet them. It struck Legolas how beautiful the Lady was just before he and Sealbeth bowed low, as was called for.
Greetings were exchanged and the Lord and Lady led them to a room where a table was set and food awaiting. Neither Galadriel nor Celeborn asked any questions until after the two tired elves had eaten their fill and were sipping their wine. Legolas, who had grown up in a place where wine was valued very highly, automatically began listing the qualities of the wine he was drinking. Not too sweet, obviously aged for some time…
:Welcome, Legolas of Mirkwood.:
Legolas shot a sharp look at the Lady, who spoke softly in her husbands ear.
:Your quest is known to us.:
Legolas continued to sip his wine. :Oh fair Lady, I thank you for your assistance.:
:The burden you carry is not an easy one, Child of the Firstborn.:
:I know not what to do.:
:You will find your path, young one. You and your companions are weary, rest now.:
Then the Lady spoke aloud. "You are weary from your travels, both of you. Time to rest, now, and regain your strength."
Legolas and Sealbeth rose with the Lord and Lady, and bowed deeply to them. "Thank you, Lady," Legolas said sincerely, and the two took their leave. Just as Legolas was about to decend though, he paused.
"Lady—if it is allowed, may I see Hantor?"
"He is sleeping," she answered. "But Haldir will take you to him."
* * * *
Legolas looked at the still, sleeping form lying in front of him. Hantor was still pale, but his cheeks were beginning to regain their rosy appearance. He looked relaxed, younger. Then, almost as if hearing him though Legolas made no sound, Hantor opened his eyes.
The talan, or flet they were on was a wide one used by healers for the occiasional stray arrow, but the healers were still quite skilled in more complex matters such as Hantor's defective heart and lungs. Legolas smiled kindly at the human as the young man blinked his eyes wearily.
"L-golas?" he mumbled, his speech slirred.
"Hush, go back to sleep," Legolas commanded softly. "I just wished to see that you were all right."
Hantor was struggling to say something. "You…you saved me," he mumbled. "Thank you…"
Kneeling, Legolas placed one slender hand against his hot brow and sung quietly an old Quenyan melody used to calm elven-children before bed.
Quildë, quildë titta quén
Lótessë fume tulin sere
Serin, titta quén
Sí ana fume
Hantor's breath deepened and his eyes slipped closed. He was sleeping. As silently as he had come, Legolas slipped from the talan, leaving the human to heal.
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Amsí = up here
Suilad, Thranduilion = Greetings, Thranduil's son
Mae govannen, edhel uin Lothlorien = Well met, elf of Lothlorien
Yrch aphad men = orcs follow us
Lothron im pedo an i hiril?=May I speak to the Lady?
Aphad nin = follow me
"Quildë, quildë titta quén
Lótessë fume tulin sere
Serin, titta quén
Sí ana fume."
Translated is,
"Hush, hush little one
May sleep come with peace
Rest, little one
Now to sleep."