Author's Note
Hello again! Thanks to my four reviewers, it is so motivating and exciting (a thrill really!) to read your comments and I am very grateful. Also, a speical thanks to Nietta for the advice:) Here is the next chapter- I am updating because school is beginning and I don't know what next week will hold. I hope you enjoy it!
-Athena
Three
Have I crossed? The thought was half formed, fleeting. He was disconnected, as though merely a spirit hovering above a tangible world but forbidden to participate in it.
"We found him in the woods, we feared the worst."
Voices. There were definitely voices to be heard. He was flying…or falling…it was a darkness from which he could not easily emerge and for his part was in no hurry to escape. The voices drifted farther from his current reality, become mumbled whispers, then suddenly returning with blasting full force.
"This cannot be happening….how did such evil come to pass?"
Was it shock that he heard? Alarm? Concern? Panic? The validity of these emotions was far from his mind. Should he not also be concerned, if for no other reason than simply for the fact that he could not associate himself with anything physical let alone a body?
A name, someone called his name.
Someone was weeping.
And suddenly there was pain to be felt. He longed to ease the suffering, the despair of the strangely familiar presence that he could not yet place. She cried for him. For that reason alone, for the pain in his soul at hearing such a sorrowful lament on his behalf, he struggled to reach for any sort of light that may lead him from his present darkness. He found it, faint but there, and as he looked towards it with ghostly vision, he felt his essence grounded, slowly returning to someplace that was familiar.
"He lives!"
With the light came pain, pain beyond comprehension. But darkness was no longer an option. He had won, for now, a bittersweet victory. His prize a sudden, shuddering breath, lungs that were his own, filling with air…
He opened his eyes.
The rest of the journey had been somewhat uneventful.
They reached the White Mountains after four days of travel and road through the canyons of sheer rock until finally the forest within was revealed. When they finally arrived at the edge of the wood, Aragorn pulled lightly on the reigns signaling his horse to stop. He dismounted, then crouched low to the ground, touching the rich soil with his hands. There were leaves cluttering the forest floor, and a few patches of grass scattered about, as if pushing through the blanket of fallen leaves. A blade broken here, a few crushed there. Aragorn sighed in acknowledgement, unable to deny the sure signs that this road had been tread by Elvin horse hooves. " Elrohir came this way-" he reported, getting to his feet.
Legolas had remained mounted, watching the ranger work. Aragorn had great skill in tracking and Legolas was certain that if anyone could find Elrohir, it would be Aragorn. It had been five days since their encounter with the orcs at the banks of the Anduin. The rain had slowed them considerably, as had their shallow wounds and lack of sleep. The two continued on, tired yet determined, constantly aware that every moment wasted in travel was a moment in which their friends could be in peril.
And yes, they were being followed.
Legolas watched wordlessly as the ranger mounted. He kicked lightly at his horse's rear, trotting to a halt beside his friend. The richly green forest lay before them in all its splendor. Its trees were tall, far taller than those of Mirkwood. Legolas wondered how they would compare to the trees of Fangorn. He had never been to the Firien Wood or to Fangorn for that matter. The stories of his youth described the later forest as ancient beyond countable years and Legolas could only imagine the wild heights trees of that forest aspired to. The trees themselves were rich with color, the wood dark, nearly as pitch. The greens, however, existed in too many shades to count. It was a hidden wood, protected by the sheer White Mountains which isolated it from the outside world. They trotted forward at a steady yet slower pace reflecting their need for caution. The arrangement of the trees was puzzling, almost as though it were planned. Dense forest seemed to line a cleared path into the wood and Aragorn and Legolas had no choice but to follow it.
"This forest is remarkable-" the elf conceded, unable to stifle his growing wonder.
Aragorn could not help but smile. He was well aware of Legolas' admiration and love of forests and trees. It seemed that they brought the elf a sense of peace and balance. "Again, it is a shame that we make this journey with such a somber purpose. I should have liked to explore this area more," he replied.
"We will have to come back," Legolas mused, a glint in his eye. "Although it seems whenever I am in your company, good ranger, mischief and mayhem follow."
Aragorn arched an eyebrow. "As I recall, Prince, you volunteered," and then added, "as you always do."
Legolas could no longer stifle the small smile that brightened his features. "Fair enough." He would let the man have this round. After all, he had volunteered.
The path twisted for what seemed like endless miles until finally, the forest changed. It was somehow more dense, more full. Legolas knew that they were nearing the very heart of the forest. The magnificence only multiplied as the forest seemed to ooze with ethereal light and powerful enchantment. The trees were thicker, the leaves greener, and the air strangely heavier. Strange… he thought to himself. for a Whispering Wood, the trees are awfully silent… Before he had time to contemplate this much longer they arrived at what Legolas knew to be a gate, a sort of boundary marking the bounds of the Elvin city of Lamias. The gate was not made of wood or ore, but instead a line of closely grown trees, whose heights were obscured in the canopy above. The line clearly blocked the crafted path they had followed and was a significant change from the casually scattered pattern the Firien trees had previously kept to. Dazzling sparkles of sunlight trickled down from above, illuminating everything in a surreal glow.
Upon nearing the line of trees, both Aragorn and Legolas slowed their steeds, then dismounted, leading the horses by the reigns as they cautiously approached the city's boundary. It seemed strange to Aragorn that the place be so open, so easily accessed. He could feel the heavy enchantment looming, a more stifling presence than he had ever remembered feeling in Rivendell or Mirkwood or even Lorien. Legolas was close behind him, he knew. They were merely a few feet now from the line. Could it be that simple, just to walk forward and-
" What?" Aragorn gasped, meaning to walk straight through the line, but finding it impossible. He bumped into something quite solid and stumbled back slightly.
" Amazing, what sorcery is this?" Legolas gasped, eyes wide in awe.
As Aragorn stepped away, their vision changed. Suddenly, there was no clear path through the line of trees, there never had been. A wall of leaves and vines and bush, extending at least twenty feet above them stood firmly before them. It had been camouflaged, impossible to see unless looked for. The trees, like towers, lined the wall and the leaves and vines grew thickly between, as strong as any stone fortress could be.
A sudden swoosh of air ending in a dull thud captured their divided attention. While it was sudden, it was not altogether a surprise.
Legolas and Aragorn lifted their hands in submission. " We mean no harm," Aragorn raised his voice in explanation. Its deep tone resonated through the seemingly empty forest. " I am of the Dunedain of the north and am known as Strider."
" And I am Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil of Mirkwood, once Greenwood the Great."
Again, Legolas found himself in awe as the illusion of isolation was shattered. Figures emerged from the tree trunks, as if having been part of the wood itself. They brandished dark wood bows. Their cloaks were a dark brown, lightly speckled in shades of gray and sienna, the color of the bark. Their hair was long and also dark, like the elves of Imladris. Amidst them Legolas' brilliant hair and pale complexion seemed exotic. They did not speak. Instead they emerged, fully armed, and proceeded to surround the trespassers.
Of the ten elves, one emerged lowering his bow, yet keeping it in a calculating grip. The air was still. The tension surmounted even the moments spent in the previous days in wait of the orc attack. Finally, he spoke. " I am Dalinor, captain of the northward guard. What is your purpose." He was a tall elf, sturdy yet slight. His icy blue eyes were fixed on Legolas, seeming not to acknowledge the edain's presence.
" We seek an audience with King Elimerel of Lamias." Legolas spoke, his voice almost musical.
Dalinor's stare was hard, his eyes narrowed in growing suspicion. They seemed earnest in their request, no weapons drawn, no sign of evil intention. But then, things were not always as they seemed. They were clearly travel worn, their eyes weary, their cloaks stained and torn. And they were wounded. Strange, an elf and anedan traveling together as if… it is preposterous. And the name, Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood, surely the King will desire to speak with him… In all his long years he had never seen such a fair elf. Though he had been told of the light features of the elves of the Great Wood, he had never traveled to those realms. In all his long years…He did not like it, could sense that the outlanders' presence would only lead to trouble. However, they posed no immediate threat and their request was well founded. Perhaps they brought a message from the outside? In either case, friend or foe, it was for his King to judge.
"And you shall have it," the captain replied, at length. "Surrender your bows and blades to my men. Your horses will be cared for presently." As he spoke, two of the surrounding elves lowered their own weapons and began to take those of the foreigner's. Legolas and Aragorn exchanged an uneasy glance and then hesitantly complied. "I will lead you into the city."
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
"Enter," came the deeply resonating reply. "What is it?"
" An elf, sire, Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood, and one of the edain, a Dunadan of the north. We have apprehended them on the northern border. They have requested an audience…" the messenger bowed low before straightening to await his orders.
There was silence for the space of a moment as the ominous figure, cloaked in shadow, seemed to consider the report. " They have, have they? Very well, send them in."
The messenger, with a nod, turned quickly and descended the stairs, disappearing from view.
King Elimerel sat alone, on a throne of dark Firien wood, intricately engraved in the ancient Elvin tongue of his predecessors. The hall was open, airy. It was a large room reminiscent of a large gazebo. The landing was flanked on all sides by stairs and the thick stone pillars, which lined the borders as walls, suspending a tall ceiling. It was a formal meeting place, a place where the King would hold court and pass judgment. It was elegant and intricate, the stone pillars smooth as marble yet strong as iron. Now, in the fading shades of twilight, the torches had yet to be lit, and the streams of fading rays flooded the room between the pillars, casting alternating streaks of light and shadow. The throne itself was set three steps higher than the floor, its elevation a symbol of the King's office and majesty.
He knew they had come. He had been watching them since they had entered the forest.
He watched now, as they two were led in. They walked with a dignified air, their faces the picture of composure. Elimerel smiled to himself, yet maintained an outwardly unreadable expression. He too could play this game. " Leave us," he spoke. With that, Dalinor motioned to his troop to take their places guarding the pillars surrounding the open hall. As they spoke, the torches were lit, bathing the room in a golden glow.
His expression softened ever so slightly. " Welcome to Lamias, friends. What business have you with the King of the Whispering Wood?"
Aragorn eyed the king in suspicion. His stature was somewhat larger than that of the average elf. He sat tall on his throne, hand clasped firmly around a golden scepter, the other resting on the arm of the throne. He wore long, flowing robes, the color of crimson red and flaming bronze. It was he who spoke first. He bowed slightly in respect, then replied, " My lord, I am called Strider, Chieftain of the Dunedain of the north, and I have been sent by the will of Elrond to your court." He could not yet assess the King's hospitality and his suspicions grew with every passing moment of intensified silence.
The King's eyes narrowed slightly. Then suddenly, his entire composure changed. The king sat back, relaxing his posture slightly and softened the steely gaze that bore into the souls of the outsiders. "Please continue, good ranger," he requested, puling the scepter to rest on his lap.
"We have come in search of another who was sent before us. Elrohir of Imladris, Lord Elrond's son, was sent to your court bringing word of Gandalf's disappearance- He was due in Mirkwood two days prior but we have heard no word to explain is absence." He was careful with his words, still not fully trusting the strange elf king.
" Yes, he was here. I remember the elf you speak of, Elrohir. I assure you he stayed but one night and then insisted on continuing his journey the following morning. He left Lamias five days ago, with ample provisions and a message for his Lord." There was a moment of silence.
Legolas shot a sideways glance at Aragorn who nodded slightly. Their fears were confirmed, Elrohir was missing…
"I am greatly troubled by this news you bring. Please, you will stay in Lamias as my guests and will be treated with our utmost hospitality. I must apologize for the manner and mood of my people, we are of an ancient line and do not trust easily. Long has it been since I have looked on one of the edain and also one of the fair woodland elves such as yourself, prince Legolas of Mirkwood. I will do everything in my power to help you find Elrohir." With that, he rapped twice on the stone ground with his long scepter. Within an instant Dalinor appeared with two guards behind him.
"We thank you for your kindness, Lord Elimerel," Legolas spoke, with a bow.
" In these times of darkness, good prince, kindness is a rare gift. I am simply returning that which Lord Elrond and King Thranduil have shown me. It is the least I can do." He smiled warmly, then straightened. " Dalinor will show you to a healer. Your wounds need dressing and you are both weary with travel. After you've taken some rest you will join me for dinner and we will discuss how to proceed. I am sure that you have many questions and for my part I will do my best to help you."
With that Dalinor stepped forward and motioned for his guards to return their weapons. Then he nodded curtly and turned on his heel. "Follow me please," he spoke as he lead them out of the great hall.
Elimerel watched them leave, his expression returning to its original somber frown. So it begins…
Dun Dun DOOOONNE...until next time!