Disclaimer: I own nothing from Middle Earth or J. R. R. Tolkien's amazing little mind. I wish I did, though because I love Middle Earth, especially Legolas and Frodo and Aragorn and Elrond and Thranduil and Erestor and Haldir and...well...a lot! I do, however, own everything from Elfwood and Merendor.
Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I was disheartened by the fewness of reviews, but this chapter is full of action! I promise! And the next one is really angsty!
Elvarde
Forlorn
Chapter Three: Friendship or Enmity?
"Ada, if they're lying, then who are they?" Legolas asked, bewildered. "What do they want? What are they hiding?" It was late at night. The Elves had stopped for a rest against the slopes of the mountains. The watch had been set; a meager supper had been served; and most had gone to sleep. Thranduil, however, had drawn his son aside and shared his suspicions quietly.
"I don't know," he replied, "but I plan to find out."
"And what if it's not any of our business?"
"Then I'll make it our business!" Thranduil's deep blue eyes were cold and hard. "Ion nîn, when Elfwood's king was overthrown, the usurpers sent couriers to us, Imladris, and Lórien saying that if we made any interference, we would suffer the same fate that the late King Perya's family did — and our subjects would as well. Believe me when I say that Elfwood is wealthy enough to hire a mercenary army 100,000 strong. We wouldn't have a chance. If these three are here to, well, to frame us…"
"Then we'd better make sure they never report back to their sovereign," finished Legolas, fingering the silver hafts of his White Knives.
The twain turned their heads, eying the foreigners cautiously. Lord Eilendis was sleeping, while Rilvaro had offered to help with the watch, and the boy, shrouded in the folds of his black cloak, sat upon the ground as he stared into the distance in contemplation. Thranduil felt a small stab of conscience as he whispered to his son, "I think we have found just the right leverage to ensure that they never wrong us."
Legolas was shocked. "But we would never harm a mere chid," he protested, appalled at his father's suggestion. "Never!"
The Elven-king gestured for him to keep his voice down before responding with, "However, ion nîn, they seem to believe we would. Have you seen how protective they are of him? They're probably willing to die to keep him safe!"
"Aye…"
"But we won't go to that extreme unless we must," insisted Thranduil. "For now, let's watch them closely. Keep an eye on their every move. If we try to befriend them, they may drop their guard. Be very cautious, my dear son; we do not know how dangerous they are."
"I will, Ada," assented Legolas. "I will." He stood up and casually made his way over to the dark-clad boy. "Suilaid," he greeted, sitting down next to the taciturn child. "Lorna, correct?"
"Correct," murmured Lorna, his voice as soft a the breeze. His eyes lowered to the ground beneath the veiling cowl. "What do you want with me, Highness?"
The prince gave a cordial smile. "Well, for one thing, you can start calling me by my name," he suggested. "I never really liked my title much, anyways."
"Your name…" Lorna repeated slowly as if the concept were foreign to him. "As you wish, Prince Legolas, although I do find it strange that you should wish the friendship of your prisoners."
"You're not our prisoners!"
"Indeed?" The boy sounded unconvinced.
"Of course not!" cried Legolas indignantly. "It just made sense for us to travel together, as we're going to the same place." There was an awkward silence, and then Legolas decided to change the subject. "I wish the stars were out tonight. Their glistening light would ease my mind. Do you like the stars, Lorna?"
"I love them," answered the boy sadly. "They are beautiful. As you said, they would ease my mind tonight as well. I…I sense evil surrounding us." He shuddered.
"Pardon me?" Legolas asked sharply.
Lorna stood up. "Alert your guards," he requested hastily. "I can feel the presence of some type of wolves, only much more evil. Hurry!" Almost immediately, their keen, pointed ears discerned the sound of howling. Soldiers drew arms and awoke their sleeping companions. Thranduil unsheathed his sword as Tarmion the scout came running into the encampment.
He shouted, "Wargs! To arms! Wargs!"
Thranduil yelled, "How many!"
"I sense three score of them," stated Lorna as the howling became louder and more increased. The others looked at him oddly.
"What's going on?" Dírnaith queried wearily, whom Rilvaro has just woken up. "What's happening?"
With an indifferent gesture, Rilvaro uttered completely emotionlessly, "We're under attack by some sort of monsters, I suppose, which will tear out our entrails and devour our still-living flesh, while our screams soar into the night sky and forever haunt this place, ever echoing off the mountains." He drew his sword. "Well, are you going to just stand there, horrified, or are we going to defend ourselves?"
The moon and stars were veiled by clouds, while the snow-covered ground prevented any fire, so the night was lightless. The soldiers formed a ring and waited for the attack. It came very suddenly, when the first warg sprang into the air with a snarl before falling dead, pierced by a volley of arrows. The wards came from all sides, bounding agilely down the rocks. The Elves fired arrows after arrows at the wolfish beasts, yet they advanced still.
Eventually the wargs came too close for arrows, so swords and white knives were then wielded. The wargs were dividing the Elves into several small groups through their attacks. The mangled bodies of their few victims leaked blood onto the snow. The air was filled with the sounds of screams, snarls, and howling.
Thranduil fought valiantly as the wargs cornered him against the slope of the rocks. Four wargs stood on the precipice above, ready to jump down upon their prey. Ignoring the helplessness of escape, the Elven-king continued to fend off the wargs as much as possible. One of the wargs above fells atop him, its weight pinning him to the ground. "Ack," he groaned as his face was splattered by its blood. An arrow was embedded in its throat.
"Ada?" asked Legolas fearfully as he dragged the warg's corpse off his father. He helped Thranduil to his feet. "Ada, are you--"
"Hannon le," mumbled the fair-haired Elven-king quickly before rushing back into the mêlée.
Rilvaro and Eilen's sole focus was to protect Lorna. The three companions were, like Thranduil, trapped against the rock wall. The boy held a short sword but was prevented from using it by Eilen's having shoved him against the rock in order to keep him out of the wargs' reach. Rilvaro slashed left and right with his swords, his face calm and cold as if warding off attacks by wargs were perfectly easy. Lord Eilendis was frantic, however. Although he was a skilled warrior, he had never even seen wargs before, and therefore, he felt terrified that they might harm the child he had vowed to keep safe. He fought courageously, but as his focus was on Lorna, he neglected his own personal safety.
Three wargs leapt on top of Eilen, forcing him to the ground. With vicious growls, their yellowed fangs tore into his flesh as their claws ripped into him. Their saliva-dripping tongues lapped up his blood. The Elf-lord winced in pain but did not scream.
Lorna, however, could not hold back a horrified cry. He ran to Eilen's side and raised his sword to fights. The wargs stopped and turned to the boy. Every warg there was now staring at Lorna, their amber eyes gleaming evilly. The child stumbled backwards in fright.
Then, the wargs attacked him and him alone.
Rilvaro nimbly dashed over to them and shielded the boy with his body. The dark-haired warrior's ice-blue eyes lifted to the snow-encrusted mountain slopes. Ice and snow came tumbling down, burying everyone. Then, although there was no wind, the swirling, white flurry was swept away by some invisible force back onto the mountaintops. Rilvaro collapsed to the ground, closing his eyes with a groan. His arms enclasped Lorna tightly.
The wargs were frozen in place by layers of ice.
The Wood-Elves stared in shock at this. Then their bewildered gazed turned to the three Merendor Elves. Dírnaith was standing and trying to make sure the others were alright. "Are you positive?" he asked.
"I'm fine!" insisted Lorna. "But you-- you were hurt!"
"Oh, no, I'm fine," Eilen reassured, placing a hand comfortingly on the boy's shoulder. "Are you sure you're alright? Are you very sure?"
"Hello, I'm dying down here," remarked Rilvaro in that same drawl of his.
"No!" cried out Lorna. He placed his hands on Rilvaro's wounds inflicted by the wargs. There was a brilliant, silver flash, and when this faded, the child was embracing Rilvaro. "I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"
"Just a little dizzy." The dark-haired guardsman motioned to the mountaintops. "That took a lot out of me."
Lorna started to cry. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! This is all my fault! Why didn't I sense them sooner?"
Eilen gave the child a consoling embrace. "Everything's alright...as long as you're safe," he said firmly. "Nothing else matters."
Rilvaro nodded in agreement. "Nothing." He stood up, and after sheathing their weapons, the three companions returned to the Wood-Elves. All three of them were completely unscathed.
