Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.
Thank you all for the good reviews, I am really happy that this story is being received so well! I think this chapter might be my first cliffy – enjoy . . . (and 10 points to Joee1 for having an excellent memory)
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The day of the hunt had turned out to be warm and sunny, a last fling of summer before the autumn drew in. The trees opened their leaves to the life-giving sunlight and birds chirped merrily amongst the branches. Despite his misgivings, Legolas found himself happy to be outside on such a beautiful day. The carefree spirit that ruled in Imladris had long been missing from Mirkwood's lands.
Of course, this levity could be taken to extremes, thought the prince as he eyed Elladan and Elrohir. The twins had been exchanging whispers and hushed giggles all morning and Legolas had little doubt that they were planning some new trick. Estel was apparently part of the conspiracy as well, judging by how reluctant the human was to look him in the eye.
"We are here," announced Elladan abruptly, coming to a sudden stop. "The best hunting ground in Rivendell."
Legolas looked around. To him, the terrain looked no different from many other parts of Elrond's realm, but the twins presumably knew what they were talking about. Besides, it was now well past noon and the four had been travelling since sunrise. The prince was not going to refuse the chance of a break.
"Estel, have you got the food there?" asked Elrohir, unwrapping his own pack. The two had shared the burden of the picnic, while Elladan and Legolas both carried the basic healing kits that Lord Elrond had insisted they take.
"I'm just getting it, be patient. After all, we've waited long enough for it – it seems an age since breakfast."
"It would do to you, Estel," teased Elladan. "I swear you have a bottomless pit for a stomach!"
"Hah, you're a fine one to talk," retorted his younger brother, not looking up from his pack. "Ada is always complaining that you two eat him out of house and home. He says it would be cheaper to feed a pack of wargs!"
Elladan stuck his tongue out at Estel in a childish gesture before turning to the prince. "Help yourself. We will eat and then outline the afternoon's plans."
Legolas murmured his thanks, though in truth he disliked hunting on a full stomach. Still, things were awkward enough as they were without refusing the offered hospitality. The prince selected a few things and stretched out on the grass, basking in the warmth of the sun. Around him the brothers' friendly bickering continued, but Legolas ignored it. He was too busy trying to work out just what the twins had up their sleeves.
"So is it true that you're fantastic at archery?" Estel asked the prince, having belatedly realised that neither he nor his brothers had spoken a word to the foreign elf throughout lunch. He waited a moment, but no reply was forthcoming. "Legolas?"
"Hmm?" The prince sat up, looking at Estel. "I am sorry, were you talking to me?"
"He was, the Valar know why," said Elrohir under his breath. Estel shot the twin an annoyed look. The man did not like Legolas much, but he felt that his brothers rather overstepped the mark sometimes.
"I was asking about archery. Glorfindel said your skill was great." Estel was curious to learn more about this reserved elf and thought that discussing a favourite hobby might encourage the prince to open up.
Legolas shrugged. "He spoke truly. I am the best archer in Mirkwood – perhaps in all of Middle-Earth." His voice was matter-of-fact, but the words would have sounded boastful no matter what tone of voice he used. Behind Legolas' back, Elladan pulled an exaggerated face.
"Would you show us?" Estel was fascinated by weaponry and the peculiar skill of the archer that had so far eluded the young man.
"A simple demonstration? What fun is there in that?" asked Elladan, scrambling to his feet. "We all have our bows here – why not have a contest?"
"I don't think so – I'd be out first round," pointed out Estel ruefully. "You know I'm better with a sword than a bow."
"I will sit it out as well, Elladan," piped up Elrohir. "It's too warm for unnecessary effort."
Elladan looked at Legolas. "Just the two of us then – if you accept the challenge, of course." The older twin's competitive nature was coming to the fore.
Legolas got to his feet. "Certainly I accept. In fact, I would be willing to lay down money on the result."
"Oh really?" Elladan cocked his head. "Very well – I have fifty florins that say your ability is not as great as is rumoured."
"Why not make it five guineas? A more rounded figure," suggested Legolas.
"If you wish it."
"I do. What exactly are we to shoot?" inquired Legolas.
Elladan dug around in his pack, eventually finding what he was looking for. He held up two medium sized leather balls.
"Here. I brought them in case we wanted a game, but they will do for this. Estel and Elrohir will throw them up into the air and we will shoot them before they land." The twin waited to see if Legolas would accept. Such quickly moving targets were difficult, especially with such small objects.
Legolas, however, did not think twice. He signalled his agreement and Estel and Elrohir moved a few hundred yards away, ready to toss the balls into the air.
The two elves readied their bows. Elrohir called down from the other end of the large clearing. "Ready, steady . . . throwing!"
Estel watched, open mouthed, as the two arrows sped towards their targets. To accurately spear the small things seemed to him an impossible task. He knew that the twins often played this game together and that Elladan had had much practice. It would take a lot of skill – or a lot of luck – to defeat him.
The two balls fell, knocked back by the arrows. One fell haplessly to the floor, a groove from the arrow carved in its side. The other Estel could not immediately see, until his brother's gasp alerted him.
"By all the Valar . . ."
The second ball was lodged in a tree just behind where Estel had been, a Mirkwood arrow embedded in its side. Before Estel could say anything, the two competitors came over.
Elladan smirked. "So, do we have a victor?" He bent and picked up his own marked ball, not seeing the pinned arrow.
His brothers stayed silent, but Legolas was quick to respond. "Assuredly so, Elladan. I hope five guineas will not drain your resources too much."
Elladan looked up sharply. "My resources? What do you - " He stopped abruptly as he saw Legolas' arrow.
Estel openly stared at the prince. "How could you have done that? It was impossible, not even Glorfindel has ever hit the ball dead on!"
Elladan scowled, irritated to have lost. "That is impossible – there is some trickery here -"
"There is no trickery," interrupted Legolas angrily. "I fired my shot just as you did yours. There is talent and skill and centuries of practice, yes, but there is no trickery. Do not accuse me of it."
Elrohir placed a restraining hand on his twin's arm. "Let things be, 'Dan. He is not worth it." Yawning, he started to wander back down to gather up the detritus of the picnic. "Come on – we are wasting the best hours of the day."
Estel caught the younger twin's wink and grinned to himself. Legolas may have won the archery contest, but the twins' latest plan would soon bring the prince back down to earth.
Once the picnic site had been made presentable again, Elrohir turned to the prince. "I am afraid this afternoon will not be a straightforward hunt," he said apologetically. "We promised to teach Estel the art of tracking and it is easier done with four than three."
Legolas glanced over at the human with thinly veiled contempt in his eyes, which Estel ignored. "I thought this was supposed to be a productive hunt, not a training session." Ordinarily Legolas would not have been so rude to his hosts, but the three had been getting on his nerves all day and their refusal to politely acknowledge his victory angered him.
"It is," said Elladan in a placating manner, surprisingly not taking offence. "It will be. But we would like to help Estel first. It will not take long."
The prince suppressed a sigh. At this moment, he wished he had never agreed to come to Imladris. He was beginning to doubt whether the trade negotiations were worth all the aggravation. "Very well. What is the plan?"
It was Estel who answered. "The twins have laid out a track which I should be able to follow. If you will come with me to make sure I am doing so correctly, they will meet us at the end."
Legolas narrowed his eyes. While he did not know the human particularly well, he would not have said that Estel was the type to admit to needing help or supervision. Even if he were, why could one of the twins not supervise him? It would make far more sense, given that they would know Estel's progress and capabilities. The prince remembered all the whispering earlier on and decided that, whatever the point of this plan, it was bound to end in trouble of some sort.
Even so, Legolas could not refuse. He gave his agreement reluctantly, vowing to be on his guard against the joke that was clearly being concocted.
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Estel turned his head to make sure that Legolas was still behind him. It had been a good three or four miles since they had parted company with the twins, but the prince had yet to utter a sound, save an occasional grunt of agreement when Estel double checked the trail.
As it happened, the twins had left an astoundingly clear path – it could practically be traced blindfold. Estel was more than capable of following a much less visible track, but the three had wanted to lure Legolas into a false sense of security. For their trick to work the prince had to trust Estel and he was far more likely to do so if he thought the man incapable.
Just ahead, Estel caught sight of a fork in the trail. At last, he thought and ran towards it. Once there, he waited for Legolas to catch up.
"We will have to split up. Look, the path splits."
Legolas shook his head. "Split up? Surely you do not need me to tell you that that is a last resort, only to be used when all other options have been explored. Certainly not for something as inconsequential as a fork in the trail. No, choose a path and we will explore it together. If this were a real tracking, separating could be dangerous."
"But Legolas . . ." said Estel, introducing a deliberate whine into his voice. "If I choose the wrong road we'll take ages to find the twins and we won't have time to do any hunting. If we each take different ones we'll be quicker."
The prince eyed Estel. The prospect of ending this tracking business sooner was an attractive one. "And you will be all right on your own?"
Estel drew himself up, looking offended. "I've managed all right so far, haven't I? I'm not a child. Look, you go that way and I'll go this. It will be much quicker."
Legolas threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine. I will see you at the end."
Estel watched the prince stalk off. He would see Legolas sooner than the elf anticipated . . . and he could not wait to see the prince's face.
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Legolas had been walking for about twenty minutes when he felt the change in the ground. Where previously it had been solid, full of earthworms digesting the soil and roots greedily sucking up the nutrients they left behind, now there was an unexpected sense of space – somewhere the plants could not feed from.
Perturbed, Legolas laid his hand on the nearest trunk, trying to determine where this strange hole began. Inching forward, the wood elf was prepared for the ground giving way beneath him, managing to jump backwards just in time.
A long and protracted rumble began as various well-placed twigs, leaves and shoals of dirt fell into a hole some fifteen feet deep. Once the cacophony had died down, Legolas dared to look over the edge of the pit.
Natural or designed, the hole would make an effective trap. The sides were smoothly sloped and rounded, impossible to climb, while the top had been cleverly disguised. If he had not sensed the change in the ground, Legolas would have been stuck down there until the twins or Estel turned up – and who knew how long they might have left him there?
So this was the joke they had been sniggering about all day. Trapping the arrogant visitor – yes, Legolas could see one of the twins having a bright idea like that. Foolish of them not to remember that he was a wood elf, though. None of Legolas' friends in Mirkwood could have failed to spot the hole, even if it was beyond the capabilities of the Noldor.
The question was, where were the twins now? It was a wonderful opportunity to play them at their own game – imprison them in their own trap, if that were possible.
Again Legolas reached out a hand to the nearest trunk, but this time with a deeper connection in mind. He closed his eyes, reached out with his spirit until he felt his blood become as slow as sap and his skin cried out for the essential sunlight. To an observer it would seem that the young prince's features had stilled and solidified, as though carved from wood.
Sindar elves were blessed with a strong link to the land in which they lived. They could indeed communicate with the trees, but it was a long and laborious process.
Legolas concentrated on a mental image of the hole. Once he had that fixed in his mind, he visualised the passing of the sun and the moon, the coming and going of heat and life. The hole . . . how long?
The tree responded with its own image. Legolas felt it as a sapling, buffeted by the winds, bent to breaking point. Then growing, solidifying, always stretching. Many years.
The twins. Laughter, soft footsteps, linked to the one who ruled here. Show me.
Vibrations of voices on the leaves, a dark night. "Only an hour or so . . . not too long . . . knock his pride a bit . . ."
Focus on the twins. See the forest, how it all connects . . . feel the other plants competing. Where are they now?
Grass, small roots that are widely spread. Fewer trees, not enough food. Not near.
The man. Heavier footfalls, distant . . . less connected. Where?
The power stops. Beyond that now . . . the black ones. The Destroyers. Gone. Lost. They kill. Fire, flame, sword, pain, axe . . . disrespect.
Legolas' eyes flew open and he abruptly broke the connection. He felt stiff and awkward, as always after these encounters, but he paid it no heed.
Estel . . . he had asked of Estel and the forest had replied. There could be no doubt as to the meaning of the images.
Yrch.
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There was a slight ripping noise as Estel caught his sleeve on yet another thorn bush and the man cursed quietly. He was not familiar with this part of Rivendell and there was no sign of the twins. The trail they had laid some days before was clear enough, but Estel had not realised that the meeting point was so far from where the trail had forked.
The trees had thinned out and Estel saw he was at the borders. Beyond the faint, barely discernible line that marked Rivendell's boundaries, acres of fields stretched away, rising up over the hills. Various small villages cultivated this area and haystacks littered the farms, left behind after the summer's harvest.
As Estel looked out over the world outside Rivendell, taking an absent-minded swig from his water bottle, something dark caught his eye. Over in the foothills of the mountains, amongst the various nooks and crannies, there was some sort of camp. Estel's eyesight was not as good as an elf's, but even he could see that the strange objects littered around the site were anything but human.
For a few minutes Estel simply stood, pondering the best course of action. The sensible thing would, of course, be to ignore the strange camp and try to find the twins. But he was curious to get a closer view and besides, Elrond would probably welcome news of what was happening past his borders. The thought that he could be endangering himself never occurred to the young man.
Estel dropped closer to the ground and began to make his way towards the mysterious camp, barely noticing as he passed out of Rivendell and his father's protection. It took a good hour or so to make out the foul beings just inside the stone hollows and the air began to stink as Estel grew closer. They were sleeping, but the noise of the intruder caused one of them to stir. Its black eyes looked around and the young man's breath caught in his throat.
These beasts were the dreaded orcs . . . and Estel had walked straight into their campsite.
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